And suddenly, I don’t know why – maybe Mike’s words had something to do with it, or maybe it’s just that being honest Idostill find Flavia very attractive and I’ve just spent a whole evening in her company, albeit in a large group – but standing next to her just inside the room, I find that I’ve lost my ability to speak.
All I can do is think about the curve of her mouth, the way her hair brushes against her neck and how muchIwould like to brush my finger, my lips there…
She catches me looking at her (gazing, if I’m honest) and responds with a slow smile.
I take a step towards her, because I can’t help myself, but halt when she says, ‘Whatisyour dream job? You must have one? Is it really embarrassing?’
I nearly laugh out loud at my own presumptuousness. Just because she wanted to kiss me, sleep with me, once, a long time ago, doesn’t mean that there’s any reason that she’ll want to ever again. Which is of course a very good thing.
‘Dream job,’ I say, to drag my mind firmly away from her glorious… everything.
Also:whyam I finding her glorious? We have absolutely nothing in common. Physical attraction and having a few amicable conversations are not enough reason to kiss someone when they’re vulnerable, youknowthem, and having a broken relationship with them would cause tension between your two families, who live almost next door to each other and have been close for decades, and you know that you don’t do relationships, so any kissing, or anything else, would just be a short-term fling. Which shemightbe up for, but she also might not, and it’s a tricky thing to discuss in advance of doing anything.
What were we talking about? Dream job.
‘Erm… no, still no inspiration,’ I say.
‘Okay, no, that’s ridiculous.’ Flavia moves over to the uncurtained windows. ‘Wow, the view’s amazing at night too. Look at the city lights sparkling and all the buildings lit up, and the massive shadows of the mountains and the moonlight over the sea.’
I join her. ‘It is indeed stunning.’
She turns to me. ‘Racing driver? Olympian? Stripper?’
‘As my dream job? What? No? Firstly, I am not six. Adults don’t dream of being racing drivers or Olympians, because that ship has sailed. Secondly, stripper? Whose dream job is that?’
‘That isn’t true. That ship is still with us. There are plenty of Olympic disciplines that we could still take up at our ageandwin golds in at future games. Archery. Curling. Sailing. Bottom person in the two-man luge. And what’s wrong with being a stripper?’
‘Clearlyyou’rea secret Olympian wannabe,’ I say. ‘Have you done a lot of research into the two-person luge thing? And obviously there’s nothing wrong with being a stripper if you aren’t being exploited and youwantto do it, but how many peopledowant to do it?’
‘Isn’teveryonean Olympian wannabe? And, yes, as it happens, I might have researched the luge thing because they’ve just introduced the women’s two-person luge. And surely some people with amazing bodies who are also exhibitionists would enjoy being strippers?’ As she speaks, her eyes travel up and downmybody. When they return to my face, she gives a small gasp and bites her lip, as though she’s been caught out doing something very, very naughty.
I smile, ridiculously pleased. If I’m going to be lusting after her, it feels only right that the compliment should be returned.
On the stripper front: I really wouldn’t mind stripping very slowly for her right now.
However.
She’s lost her father and separated from her husband in the past year and is, one would imagine, quite vulnerable emotionally at this point, and Idowreck all my relationships, plus I really don’t want to make things awkward between our families, so – even if she would like to – it’s a moot point. I’m definitely not going there.
So I say, my voice sounding only slightly odd, ‘I’m going to have to think further about my dream job. Two-person luge. Stripping. On it.’ I love that she can keep two simultaneous conversation threads going. I feel like she could have kept talking about both the luge and stripping for hours if my lust hadn’t got in the way. ‘I’ll let you know my conclusion over breakfast. Would you like to use the bathroom first?’
‘No, you go,’ she says, equally huskily, I can’t help being pleased to note.
Of course. She isn’t going to want to come out of the bathroom in her nightclothes and then lie in bed while I wait here.
I brush my teeth and wash my face quickly and then – much as parading across the room dressed only in the trunks I’m going to sleep in would round off our stripping conversation nicely – I apply extreme maturity and common sense, emerge from the bathroom fully clothed, say a quick goodnight from the opposite of the room, and then go to my own room to get changed.
7
FLAVIA
Well.
When I’m out of the shower and in my pyjamas, I get into bed and pull the duvet up right round my ears, like it will ward the world off.
It feels like today was crazy.
Dominic. And Jed.
