to have rubbed Camilla’s nose in the fact of her relationship with Anthony, Sarah agreed. Anthony got their coats and waited in the hallway while Sarah said protracted, air-kissing farewells to friends. Camilla was trapped in conversation in the kitchen with a short, sweaty criminal barrister who had pursued her all through Bar School year, and to whom she had not the heart to be unkind. She glanced out and saw Anthony leaning against the front door, patiently waiting for Sarah. He yawned and then looked in her direction. Their eyes met, and he smiled at her, then raised his eyes heavenwards. She smiled broadly back, happiness spreading throughout her whole being at this wordless, conspiratorial exchange. Maybe he wasn’t in love with Sarah, really. And, anyway, the fact that he could share his impatience with Sarah’s luvvie leave-takings showed that he regarded her as a friend, a proper friend. She was still smiling as she turned back to the persistent young man and his account of his recent success at Snaresbrook Crown Court.
Anthony and Sarah found a cheap Italian restaurant a few streets away. Sarah was a little drunk from the party, and by the time she and Anthony had shared a bottle of wine over a plate of pasta, she had that languorous, utterly relaxed hunger that only sex could satisfy. Anthony paid the bill, and as the waiter disappeared she smiled at Anthony and said, ‘Why don’t wego back to my flat and start where we left off? I feel incredibly randy just looking at you.’
‘I’d love to, but,’ sighed Anthony, ‘I have to go home and get some sleep before tomorrow.’ His mind was already focused on the work that he and Leo would have to do the next day, and he was in that singular, purposeful frame of mind where not even Sarah’s provocative charms could touch him.
‘Oh, come on,’ she said, leaning her head on her hand. ‘You can sleep at mine. Afterwards, that is.’
The table at which they were sitting was small, small enough for Sarah to reach a hand below the table, take one of Anthony’s, and slide it between her thighs. The restaurant was practically deserted, and Anthony had not the strength of will to draw his hand away. As his fingers stroked the damp warmth of her crotch his insides dissolved, and his good intentions almost deserted him. Then he thought of how he would feel the next day if he didn’t get enough sleep, how his inability to concentrate would irritate both himself and Leo. He took his hand away and shook his head.
‘I’m going home.’
Sarah’s desire to be made love to now combined with a fierce wish to have her own way. She was not accustomed to being turned down in this manner, and for such a reason.
‘You mean I’m not as important as a piece of work? Not as important as your wondrous Leo, and his good opinion?’ she asked, her tone sullen.
Anthony had turned away to look for the waiter, anxious to retrieve his credit card and leave. Now he turned back to her, looked at her without expression, and said simply, ‘Not right at this moment, no.’ He did not intend to be rude. But she had asked a question, and he gave a short answer. He knew that his offhandedness had something to do with the fact that she had spent a small part of the meal bitching about Camilla, which hehadn’t liked, and also with his own growing sense of fatigue. He looked impatiently round for the waiter again.
‘If he’s so important to you, I’m surprised you don’t sleep with him as well,’ snapped Sarah, then added, ‘Or maybe you already do.’
Anthony froze, but said nothing, and at that moment the waiter returned with his card. When he had gone, Anthony, without even glancing at Sarah, said, ‘Listen, I don’t need this. Why don’t you just go home and sleep off your bad temper? Or maybe you could take some more coke to cheer yourself up.’ The slight contempt in his voice roused a kind of impotent fury in her. She rose, snatching her coat from the back of the
Anthony and Sarah found a cheap Italian restaurant a few streets away. Sarah was a little drunk from the party, and by the time she and Anthony had shared a bottle of wine over a plate of pasta, she had that languorous, utterly relaxed hunger that only sex could satisfy. Anthony paid the bill, and as the waiter disappeared she smiled at Anthony and said, ‘Why don’t wego back to my flat and start where we left off? I feel incredibly randy just looking at you.’
‘I’d love to, but,’ sighed Anthony, ‘I have to go home and get some sleep before tomorrow.’ His mind was already focused on the work that he and Leo would have to do the next day, and he was in that singular, purposeful frame of mind where not even Sarah’s provocative charms could touch him.
‘Oh, come on,’ she said, leaning her head on her hand. ‘You can sleep at mine. Afterwards, that is.’
The table at which they were sitting was small, small enough for Sarah to reach a hand below the table, take one of Anthony’s, and slide it between her thighs. The restaurant was practically deserted, and Anthony had not the strength of will to draw his hand away. As his fingers stroked the damp warmth of her crotch his insides dissolved, and his good intentions almost deserted him. Then he thought of how he would feel the next day if he didn’t get enough sleep, how his inability to concentrate would irritate both himself and Leo. He took his hand away and shook his head.
‘I’m going home.’
Sarah’s desire to be made love to now combined with a fierce wish to have her own way. She was not accustomed to being turned down in this manner, and for such a reason.
‘You mean I’m not as important as a piece of work? Not as important as your wondrous Leo, and his good opinion?’ she asked, her tone sullen.
Anthony had turned away to look for the waiter, anxious to retrieve his credit card and leave. Now he turned back to her, looked at her without expression, and said simply, ‘Not right at this moment, no.’ He did not intend to be rude. But she had asked a question, and he gave a short answer. He knew that his offhandedness had something to do with the fact that she had spent a small part of the meal bitching about Camilla, which hehadn’t liked, and also with his own growing sense of fatigue. He looked impatiently round for the waiter again.
‘If he’s so important to you, I’m surprised you don’t sleep with him as well,’ snapped Sarah, then added, ‘Or maybe you already do.’
Anthony froze, but said nothing, and at that moment the waiter returned with his card. When he had gone, Anthony, without even glancing at Sarah, said, ‘Listen, I don’t need this. Why don’t you just go home and sleep off your bad temper? Or maybe you could take some more coke to cheer yourself up.’ The slight contempt in his voice roused a kind of impotent fury in her. She rose, snatching her coat from the back of the
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