The First Mistake(36)

‘Do you usually expect it?’ I replied, because he seemed to me to be a man who usually got what he wanted.

He propped himself up on one arm and traced my cheek with his finger. ‘This is not what I usually do, but I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself with you.’

I rolled my eyes and started to get up, assuming that we’d both got what we’d come for. There was really no need for the post-coital sweet talk.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked, catching hold of my wrist.

‘Home,’ I said, suddenly uncomfortable. Funny how allowing myself to be tied up and rendered helpless by this stranger in the name of love-making somehow seemed safer than this unexpected invasion of my space.

‘I’d like to see you again,’ he said, releasing his grip.

I smiled. ‘That’s very gentlemanly of you, but you and I both know that’s unlikely to happen. There’s honestly no need for pretence here.’

He looked hurt. ‘I think we’ve got something special.’

I laughed as I stepped into my dress. He would have perhaps seen it as me making light of the incredible time I’d just had, but I knew it was my defence barrier going up, ever-ready to take the knock that I was sure was coming. That’s why I always made sure to get in there first.

‘Look, I had an amazing time,’ I said. ‘A really amazing time, but you made it quite clear that you’re just looking for some fun, and I’m happy with that. Really, I am. Let’s not make this any more awkward than it needs to be.’

‘I’m away a lot,’ he said. ‘That’s why I can’t commit to anything serious.’

That’s one I’d not heard before.

‘But if I was around more, I’d definitely want to see where this went.’

‘Of course,’ I said, as if placating an upset pupil in my class. ‘And if I was around more, I’d like to see where this went too, but alas . . .’ I childishly refused to let him have the upper hand, to make him think that I was in any way disappointed.

I sat back down on the bed and ran my hand across his bare chest, onto his toned shoulder and down his tattooed arm. If he carried on smiling like that I’d have to get undressed and do it all over again.

‘You want to, don’t you?’ he asked, as if reading my mind.

I smiled. Of course I did, but there was no harm in leaving him wanting more.

‘When you’re next in town, give me a call and let’s see if we can hook up.’ I sounded like I’d swallowed a ‘How To Play It Cool’ manual. He pulled me down on top of him, his tongue searching my mouth. It took all of my willpower to pull myself off.

‘I’ll surprise you,’ he said as I reached the door.

‘You do that.’ I smiled, wishing he would, but knowing he wouldn’t.

So to say I was gobsmacked when he texted a week later is an understatement. I was already talking about him in the past tense to Maria the morning after I’d met him at the hotel, as if he was just a dream I’d had.

‘I swear to God, he was the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,’ I’d mused, as I’d allowed my tea to over brew. Maria had listened enviously, no doubt imagining it was her. ‘But he wasn’t as sexy as your Jimmy,’ I’d added.

‘Who are you kidding?’ she’d said, swiping me around the arm with a tea towel that had been in the staff room for years. I had a recollection that it might have been on my rota to take it home and wash it every once in a while. I couldn’t remember ever doing so. ‘Every man’s sexier than my Jimmy,’ went on Maria, ‘but I love him all the same. Will you be seeing him again?’

‘Oh shit,’ I’d said, as I’d caught sight of the manila-envelope coloured tea and pulled the bag out, burning my fingers. ‘Of course not. It was a one-night only performance and I’ll happily live off it for the rest of my life.’

Surprise! his text said, almost making me drop the phone.

Make him wait, I said to myself. No need to be overkeen. If I’d been in class, it would have been okay, but I was planning lessons in the library, and every second that passed felt like a day. I was quietly impressed that I lasted over four minutes.

Who’s this? I texted, knowing damn well it could only be him.

It’s Thomas . . .

Sorry??? Sometimes I’m my own worst enemy.

From the other night . . . we met at the Westbury. I tied you up and then I . . .

Well, that served me right. I looked around the library, imagining that the conversation was being played out over a tannoy, and blushed furiously.

I typed and deleted Hey, what’s up? five times, before hitting send.

I’m in town tonight and want to see you.

Was he asking me or telling me? Either way, it turned me on and I knew I was going to go, no matter what prior engagement stood in my way.

I’m not sure I’m free, I replied, knowing that my diary was clear.

No problem, he wrote, calling my bluff. Another time perhaps?

Fuck.

Let me check, I texted back, far too quickly.

I waited for what felt like an inordinate amount of time, but in reality, it was probably only two or three minutes. Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen – that’s me!

I’m supposed to be having dinner, I typed. But I might be able to move it. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I just say, Yes, I’m free and I’d love to see you?