accusations, so I shrug and offer to make tea for the rest of the office.
He doesn’t invite me anywhere this weekend.
I am more on tenterhooks than ever for my regular Saturday tryst with Dimitri. Looking for clues as to our probable activities, I text him a question.
‘What should I wear?’
He replies: ‘Whatever you want.’
This isn’t helpful. It’s what he wants that I need to know, have to know, will die of fretting pretty soon if I don’t find out.
I text back: ‘Spacesuit then?’
‘If you like.’
Of course, I don’t have a spacesuit. In the end I go with my usual flirty dress with stockings. I feel so drab amongst the wet-look man-made materials in the café, though, especially beside Dimitri who is more like a one-man carnival than ever, trailing scarves and fringes in his jingly-jangly wake.
‘So then,’ I quaver, ridiculously nervous, my coffee cup jittering in my hand.
‘So then,’ he prompts when I don’t continue. His smile is playful, his eyes only pretend stern.
‘Just wondering what’s on the menu for today.’
‘Your choice,’ he says. Why all these curve balls? Can’t he act predictably, just once?
‘My choice? Dinner at the Ivy then?’
He chuckles and tickles me under the chin. ‘One day, I promise you. But tonight must be something we do in the schoolroom, because I have booked there. You can choose what. I have one rule.’
‘A rule? What’s the rule?’
‘What you choose, you must not have done it before.’
‘Well, that covers quite a lot of things.’
‘And it is maybe something you never planned to do. Something maybe that scares you.’ His fingertip rests beneath my chin, holding up my head, keeping my eyes fixed on his.
My scalp begins to crawl with dread anticipation. He wants me to do something that scares me. All my anxious fantasies of the past week crowd into my mind.
‘Why?’ I ask weakly. ‘Why something that scares me?’
His hand moves around to cradle my shoulder, putting me in an instantly reassuring place. ‘Because I want to make it good for you. Take your fear and kill it.’
‘Maybe it won’t be possible.’
‘If it is, I will do it. Think of a scary thing. Tell me what it is.’
I try to calm my thoughts, to come up with a workable list.
Nothing with multiple partners, for a start. That’s a scary step too far, just for now. Piercing? I picture Dimitri looming above me with a needle and a lighter flame … no. No way. My imagination takes me on a whistle-stop tour of all the most outrageous sexual practices I have ever heard of before coming to a sudden stop as something infinitely more simple, more doable, more intimate and yet just as scary occurs to me.
‘There is something,’ I say slowly, then I stop. I don’t know if I can say the words.
‘Good. So what is it?’
I hide my face in his shoulder. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Ohhh,’ he croons, delighted by my reticence, grabbing my hair and making me look at him. ‘You can’t tell me? Is it very bad? Very, very wicked? I hope so.’
‘I don’t think it’s that uncommon, actually,’ I say. ‘I guess lots of people do it. Just, I can’t imagine it feeling good. Not for, y’know, maybe for the person giving it, not so much for the person receiving.’
I really, really hope all my hedging and skirting is giving him a clue. I just don’t want to say the words out loud: they are so ugly, so bald, so crude.
‘You mean the cane?’ He frowns.
‘Nooo. Nothing to do with spanking. Something a bit more … intimate. I imagine it can be painful, all the same. And it does involve the same … body part.’
‘Ah!’ His bangles clash as inspiration strikes. ‘You mean anal sex, right?’
Was there any need to say it quite so loudly and emphatically? A number of people at neighbouring tables look over and smirk. I curl back up into the crook of Dimitri’s arm, pressing up close to his rangy, bony shoulder, suppressing an urge to whimper with
He doesn’t invite me anywhere this weekend.
I am more on tenterhooks than ever for my regular Saturday tryst with Dimitri. Looking for clues as to our probable activities, I text him a question.
‘What should I wear?’
He replies: ‘Whatever you want.’
This isn’t helpful. It’s what he wants that I need to know, have to know, will die of fretting pretty soon if I don’t find out.
I text back: ‘Spacesuit then?’
‘If you like.’
Of course, I don’t have a spacesuit. In the end I go with my usual flirty dress with stockings. I feel so drab amongst the wet-look man-made materials in the café, though, especially beside Dimitri who is more like a one-man carnival than ever, trailing scarves and fringes in his jingly-jangly wake.
‘So then,’ I quaver, ridiculously nervous, my coffee cup jittering in my hand.
‘So then,’ he prompts when I don’t continue. His smile is playful, his eyes only pretend stern.
‘Just wondering what’s on the menu for today.’
‘Your choice,’ he says. Why all these curve balls? Can’t he act predictably, just once?
‘My choice? Dinner at the Ivy then?’
He chuckles and tickles me under the chin. ‘One day, I promise you. But tonight must be something we do in the schoolroom, because I have booked there. You can choose what. I have one rule.’
‘A rule? What’s the rule?’
‘What you choose, you must not have done it before.’
‘Well, that covers quite a lot of things.’
‘And it is maybe something you never planned to do. Something maybe that scares you.’ His fingertip rests beneath my chin, holding up my head, keeping my eyes fixed on his.
My scalp begins to crawl with dread anticipation. He wants me to do something that scares me. All my anxious fantasies of the past week crowd into my mind.
‘Why?’ I ask weakly. ‘Why something that scares me?’
His hand moves around to cradle my shoulder, putting me in an instantly reassuring place. ‘Because I want to make it good for you. Take your fear and kill it.’
‘Maybe it won’t be possible.’
‘If it is, I will do it. Think of a scary thing. Tell me what it is.’
I try to calm my thoughts, to come up with a workable list.
Nothing with multiple partners, for a start. That’s a scary step too far, just for now. Piercing? I picture Dimitri looming above me with a needle and a lighter flame … no. No way. My imagination takes me on a whistle-stop tour of all the most outrageous sexual practices I have ever heard of before coming to a sudden stop as something infinitely more simple, more doable, more intimate and yet just as scary occurs to me.
‘There is something,’ I say slowly, then I stop. I don’t know if I can say the words.
‘Good. So what is it?’
I hide my face in his shoulder. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Ohhh,’ he croons, delighted by my reticence, grabbing my hair and making me look at him. ‘You can’t tell me? Is it very bad? Very, very wicked? I hope so.’
‘I don’t think it’s that uncommon, actually,’ I say. ‘I guess lots of people do it. Just, I can’t imagine it feeling good. Not for, y’know, maybe for the person giving it, not so much for the person receiving.’
I really, really hope all my hedging and skirting is giving him a clue. I just don’t want to say the words out loud: they are so ugly, so bald, so crude.
‘You mean the cane?’ He frowns.
‘Nooo. Nothing to do with spanking. Something a bit more … intimate. I imagine it can be painful, all the same. And it does involve the same … body part.’
‘Ah!’ His bangles clash as inspiration strikes. ‘You mean anal sex, right?’
Was there any need to say it quite so loudly and emphatically? A number of people at neighbouring tables look over and smirk. I curl back up into the crook of Dimitri’s arm, pressing up close to his rangy, bony shoulder, suppressing an urge to whimper with
Similar Books
