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That word was almost barked out. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him speak. I lay there waiting for a solution to the problem to present itself, or for him to actually say more than one word. I was beginning to think he’d insist I leave, handcuffs or no handcuffs, when a long sigh finally pierced the silence. “Blindfold.”

I sought to make sense of it. “You want to put a blindfold on me, so you can put the light on and I won’t be able to see anything? You don’t need to do that. I can just close my eyes.”

“No.”

“Okay, blindfold. Sure. Why not.” It seemed stupid to disagree when I was already handcuffed. I followed the sound of footsteps across the room followed by a scraping sound. Was that a drawer? I wondered what he was going to use for a blindfold, a tie maybe, or a scarf? Or maybe he had actual blindfolds ready to go. Maybe the drawer was full of handcuffs and blindfolds, not to mention other sex toys or bondage gear.

Lost in thought over the possible kinky contents of the drawer, I jumped at the sudden brush of fabric against my head, his hands running over my face to make sure he’d tied it in the right place. I wondered how he was going to ensure I couldn’t see anything. I’d been blindfolded before, not in a kinky way, more in a parlor game sort of way. I’d always been able to see something—either through the blindfold itself, or if I lifted my head, I’d usually been able to see underneath it. Was I going to get a peek at the mystery man? My heart rate picked up in anticipation, the phantom hands struggling to tie the fabric securely. It felt woolen. Probably a scarf, then.

The presence disappeared. More footsteps. Then the telltale click of a light switch. My eyes, behind the scarf, were suddenly flooded with light. I strained to see something. But, whatever he’d used to block my vision was too thick to see through. With option one dismissed as useless, I lifted my head, hoping to find enough of a gap below the blindfold to see something. However, it had been pulled down too low. Either he was clever enough to have thought of all the possible loopholes and eventualities when tying it, or he’d just been lucky. During my struggles to try and see, I hadn’t bothered to track his movement. Where was he? I listened. Nothing. What was he doing? Was he looking for the key? Was he standing there staring at me? Staring at my naked body. Christ! What if he was finding me lacking. I shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to try and cover myself.

Realization suddenly came to me in a rush. If he was staring, it probably wasn’t my nakedness he was staring at. My words came out in a rush. “I can explain about the hair. Well, I can’t. I lied…obviously. It’s not blond. I guess, I just figured in the dark, I could be something a bit different. Sorry, if you specifically asked for a blond. It’s brown. Well, you can see that. I lied about the eye color as well. I have no idea why I’m telling you that. It’s not like you can see them under the scarf. Is it a scarf? It feels like a scarf. They’re brown as well. Brown hair, brown eyes. Very ordinary. Sorry.” I ran out of things to ramble about.

Another click and then I was suddenly plunged back into darkness. Footsteps came toward me and then gentle hands were removing the blindfold. “Did you find the key? Sorry about dropping it. It won’t happen again. Assuming, you still want to see me again. You know, after finding out, I’m not blond. And that I lied. Sorry, again.”

Hands moved to unlock the handcuffs. Again, it took a while, the fumbling fingers finally managing to fit the tiny key in the lock. Then he was gone. I rubbed my wrists, racking my brain for something else to say. Something that would end the night on a good note. Or would at least give me a clue whether I would ever be coming back here. “If you speak to Tom, that’s the boss of the agency I work for, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention the lying thing. Not that you owe me anything. But…if you could not mention it, I’d appreciate it.”

“I won’t say anything.”

Wow! I’d gotten a whole sentence out of him. I decided it was better not to push by enquiring whether my services would be required again.

Chapter Fourteen

“Shall I turn it off?”

“Huh?” I brought my attention back to Justin with difficulty. At the other end of the sofa, he’d turned sideward and was currently regarding me with a quizzical expression.

At my clueless expression, he elaborated. “The film.”

Right, we were meant to be watching a film. Some sort of action thing, with lots of explosions, gunfire, and car crashes. “No, I’m watching it.”

“Really? Because, I could have sworn you’ve been miles away for the last ten minutes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Who just died then?”

Someone had died! “The…er…man who was following…the woman.”

He shook his head. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. We can do something else, Dean. We can watch something else, or we can go out. I don’t want you to be bored.”

“I’m not bored.” I forced a smile. “Honest. I want to see what happens…to the man.”

“Which man?”

“The main character, the one whose wife died earlier in the film.”

Justin looked less than convinced, but he did turn his attention back to the screen, so I must have said something right. I sank lower on the sofa, determined to do a much better job of pretending I was watching. Truth be told, I’d been deep in thought trying to work out what was going on in our relationship. We’d seen each other several times over the last few weeks: lunches, dinners, days out. Whatever we’d done, we’d had a great time. We’d laughed, we’d joked, the hours had flown by. There’d been an awful lot of kissing. Very good kisses. Kisses that had gotten me increasingly hot and bothered. But that was where the problem started. Every time I’d tried to progress it past the point of kissing, even to heavy petting, he’d back off at such a speed it had left my head spinning, not to mention my balls extremely blue. I just couldn’t work him out. He obviously liked me. He’d brought a friend to the restaurant the other night while I was working, claiming it was an excuse to spend more time with me. There was genuine lust in his eyes when he looked at me. He kissed just as enthusiastically. He initiated a lot of the kisses. So, what was going on?

Frustrated, I’d tried to broach the subject several times. He’d fobbed me off or changed the subject. I didn’t know what else to do. I’d like to think sex wasn’t that important, but it clearly was. At least to me. It apparently didn’t matter a jot to him.

If I was honest, I’d been hoping that once my relationship with Justin had become sexual, I’d manage to find the willpower to bring Tuesday evenings to an end. Apparently, me having brown hair and eyes, and being a liar, hadn’t been a deal breaker and the visits were still ongoing. There I was, having mind-blowing sex with one man, while supposedly having a meaningful relationship with another. I chewed my fingernail. I was a bad person. A weak, bad person. A person who probably didn’t deserve to be anywhere near a nice person like Justin.

I lived with the constant fear of Justin finding out about the escorting. I hadn’t even come clean about the straightforward dates. That would at least have been a good place to start. But I was scared I’d find my ass dumped so fast, there’d be nothing I could do about it. And who’d blame him. I’d fully deserve it. It might have been different if I’d been honest straight away, but I’d left it too long now. Georgia had promised she wouldn’t say anything about my past. She was still completely unaware that I was still seeing the mystery man on a Tuesday. I’d managed to manufacture a string of plausible excuses to explain my absences. I was lying to her. I was lying to Justin. All in all, it was a powder keg waiting to explode one way or another. My luck could only hold for so long.

A sigh from the other end of the sofa brought me crashing back to the present. I hadn’t even noticed he’d paused the movie and now I was faced with a concerned-looking Justin—again. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. Of course not.”