'You aren’t the only one with debts to pay.'
Sylvie’s face looked strained. I wondered again why she should care so much about Dix’s needs, but smiled to lighten the mood.
'He’s not going to come through here as well is he?'
'No,' Sylvie laughed. 'Why? Are you looking for company?'
'That’s what the girls down Anderston way ask the punters.'
She flicked her fingers against the water’s surface, splashing my face.
'I’ve no idea where Anderson Way is, but I get the idea you might be calling me a whore again.'
The splash was playful, but I thought there was real hurt behind the words. I caught her by the wrist.
'No, Sylvie, I’m sorry. I think you’re brilliant.'
Her hand was tiny. I placed it on my chest. She held it there for a second, then scooped some bubbles from the top of the tub and rubbed them into my skin, brushing against my bruises. It felt sore and sad and good all at the same time. Sylvie looked down at my half-hardness emerging through the fading froth. She tugged my chest hair teasingly and reached for the towel.
'You don’t know what you want do you, William? A whore, a Madonna or just a good fuck.'
'And what do you want, Sylvie?'
'Nothing.' She looked away. 'Just to live.'
'Then you’ve got your wish.'
She shook her head.
'Who’s the greatest person you can think of?'
'I don’t know.'
'Just say someone. The first person to come into your head.'
'Einstein.'
'He’s dead.'
'I know.'
She dropped her hand into the water again.
'All I want is to live while I’m still alive,' she grinned. 'Even if I die in the process.'
'A short life but a merry one?'
'You got it.'
Her hand slipped further beneath the water and brushed gently against my cock. I caught her wrist between my fingers and drew it away. Our eyes met.
'I don’t need sex to be your friend.'
'No?'
'No.'
And I let go of her wrist, felt her fingers fasten around me, closed my eyes and allowed myself to be swallowed by the rhythm of her hand and the warm waves of bathwater that started to lap against my chest.
Afterwards Sylvie shook her hand clean in the bathwater. I caught her fingers again and held them to my lips.
'Thanks, Sylvie.'
She shook her head.
'You should relax, William, you’re so formal, like a third-grade English teacher who’s just been jerked off by his most promising student.'
The water had grown cold. I pushed the scum of my spunk away from me and started to get out of the bath.
'I wish I didn’t feel you were talking from experience.'
Sylvie shrugged and shifted to the toilet seat. I wanted some privacy, but what had just passed between us stopped me from asking her to leave. She sat with Dix’s clothes on her lap, and passed me the towel.
Her voice was soft.
'Has anyone ever died doing your bullet trick?'
'I’ve never shot anyone for real, no.'
'You know what I mean.'
'I told you before, it has its risks but they’re probably no more than the odds of crashing on the motorway.'
'Midday or rush hour?'
'You were safe.' I wrapped the towel round my waist and sat on the edge of the tub, facing her. 'Magic is all about effects, if the trick doesn’t look dangerous then who’s impressed? The first man ever to die doing the bullet
