Access Restricted by Alice Severin Page B

as if she were sniffing at me, like an animal. I gazed at her, levelly, or as much as I could, given how jetlagged I realized I was becoming. I wanted the information. This was what I needed to do to get it.
    “You’re not stupid, are you?” Poppy gazed at me.
    “I try to avoid it,” I answered. “I don’t want the pictures, I’d just like to see them.” Maybe I could make this a bonding moment. “I’d like to see what you experienced.”
    “He didn’t really do that with me. Ah, simpler times.” She smirked into her glass. “But yes, I’ve got them.” I looked at her hopefully. “You probably want to see his cock. Most people do. Remember the ‘plaster casters’? Now those were the days. When men were men, and women kept souvenirs of their favorite parts. I met one of the ladies once. She was fantastic. No point in living your life filled with regrets over what you haven’t dared to do, that’s what she said. I tend to agree.”
    I nodded. “I would love to see them.” I tried to look grateful. Like I needed her to corrupt me.
    “Yes, they’re definitely erotic. Naturally not as impressive as he was in the flesh, but we take what we can get, don’t we?” She looked me up and down. “All right. But this is off the record. You can only allude to how well-constructed he was…is. Some lucky girl. But once, that was me. Yes. I’ll show you. Stay here, I’ll be back in a moment. The loo is through there if you need it.” And with that she swept away. I could hear her footsteps going up the staircase, and I wondered if they were in her bedroom.
    That’s where I’d keep them.
    I went to the bathroom and I tried to straighten myself up a little. There were so many more questions I really wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to give myself away. I couldn’t decide what I felt about her. I liked her, even felt a bit like we had something in common besides the obvious, but it almost didn’t seem real that she once had a relationship with Tristan, maybe even felt she was in love with him. That’s what I would ask her, I thought. How she felt then. How she felt now. Maybe her answer would help make sense of my jumble of emotions. But I thought of his smile, his whispers in my hair, and I didn’t want to compare it. I didn’t want to think of our connection as some problem to be figured out, one more relationship on some long timeline that started and ended…when? I splashed some water on my face. The circles under my eyes were becoming darker. It had been a long day. It really was time to cut it, go home, stop feeding my irrational curiosity. I had enough material for now. But just a few more questions, couldn’t hurt, right? I went out, and found Poppy sitting there, gazing at the photos, 8x10 glossies. She hadn’t heard me, and I stood there for a moment and watched her. She was pretty, no question. Her long neck was gracefully curved, looking down at the pictures. She was smiling, but it was a smile so close to tears, that I immediately felt guilty for spying on her. I carefully backed up a few steps, over the large square red clay tiles in the hallway, and closed the bathroom door with a loud click, and advanced again into the room. Sure enough, she had mastered her emotions, and on her face was a bright, if pained smile.
    “Oh, there you are,” she called out, and we might have been at a garden party, discussing fabric patterns for the new curtains, instead of about to sit together and look at pornographic photos of her old boyfriend, my new one, except she didn’t know that, having sex with yet another woman. Interesting. I sat down, and sipped at my wine. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she had put the photos back into a folder. Maybe she had changed her mind. I waited. I had a feeling it would be better if I didn’t show as much interest as I felt. I looked at her, and she held my gaze. Her eyes were strange, I thought. Soft and brown, but with darker spots. She didn’t look friendly