‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
Of course not, you prat.
‘Why do you ask?’
He points at my face. ‘You’ve been crying.’
‘I stubbed my toe,’ I lie. ‘And now I need a glass of wine.’
‘Allow me.’
Remaining silent, I watch as he orders the wine and slides it under my nose.
‘I thought this was a kinky club.’ I slug back a mouthful.
‘It is.’
‘But …’
‘Rooms at the back,’ he explains. ‘That’s where all the action takes place. New to this?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘On your own?’
‘Yes.’
I scan the bar. No sign of Lucy. I can only assume she didn’t dare enter this den of filth. And I’m glad. The last thing I need right now is her gabbling in my ear like Jiminy Cricket. Focussing back on my blue-eyed companion, I realise that the reckless part of my brain has thoroughly taken the helm. ‘He’s nothing special,’ I tell myself. ‘But he’ll do.’ I watch as he sips at his pint. He doesn’t seem to be about to push things any further, so I guess it’s all down to me.
‘Will you show me the ropes?’ I ask.
He raises an eyebrow.
‘Talk about going in at the deep end. Maybe not rope … not yet.’
‘Well, what do you suggest I start with?’
He purses his lips, thinking for a moment.
‘I’d say a light spanking, but if stubbing your toe made you cry, I’m not sure you’d enjoy it.’
Seriously? Do I actually look like a kink virgin? I lean forward, swaying slightly.
‘Oh, I like a good spanking, but I’ve done that, been there, worn the T-shirt. And now I want something more.’
‘Which is?’
I hold my breath. I know exactly what I want. I’m feeling pain and craving pain. And I want to take it to the extreme.
‘Whips. I want whips. Do they have whips here?’
He opens his mouth.
‘Trust me, you don’t want to be whipped.’
I blink into his face. I definitely just heard those words, but the lips didn’t move and there was something distinctly American about that accent. I turn slowly, only to find Gordon standing behind me.
‘What would you know?’
‘Quite a bit, actually,’ he says breezily. ‘I once spent an entire week with my butt cheeks on fire. It wasn’t pleasant. Now, I don’t know why you’re jonesing for agony, but let me tell you something. It’s not what you need.’
‘And I don’t need you telling me what I don’t need. And anyway …’ I prod him in the chest. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Lucy came to get me. She wants me to take you home. I’ve got a ride waiting outside.’
‘I’m staying.’
‘You shouldn’t.’ His eyes flash with something I can’t quite understand. ‘Now, let’s go.’
‘I don’t have to do what you say,’ I slur. ‘You’re not actually my boss or anything.’
‘No, I’m not. But I’d like to consider myself a friend. Whatever happened back there at the club, this isn’t the answer.’
‘Oh yes it is.’
He shakes his head. ‘You won’t feel that way in the morning.’ He pauses. ‘And I won’t take no for an answer.’
He holds out a hand, and I stare at it. I’m exhausted and drunk, and in actual fact I’d love nothing more than to climb into bed and curl up in a foetal position. With no further complaints, I give in, letting him lead me back outside and guide me to a car. Lucy’s already in the front, sitting next to the driver. I slide into the back, with Gordon at my side.
‘You okay?’ he asks.
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Maya!’ Lucy barks. ‘Don’t be so rude. What’s got into you?’
‘Men.’ I look out of the window, unable to focus on anything. The booze is really kicking in now. ‘They all think they can boss me about, and they all want the same thing. A good fuck.’
‘Maya!’
‘Well, it’s the truth. He wants to fuck me.’ I wave a hand at Gordon. ‘Knights in shining armour. They’ve always got a hard-on underneath all that chain mail.’
‘Well, this particular knight in shining armour doesn’t fit your generalisation,’ Gordon argues. ‘He just wants to see you through your front door, make sure you’re okay, and then be gone.’
I laugh.
‘Oh come off it. Sex. That’s all men ever want. And when they get what they want, they chuck you in the bin and move on to the next conquest.’
‘What makes you say that?’ he asks.
‘My ex,’ I mutter, hating the sound of the word in my mouth. Daniel Foster, my ex. A man who belongs to the past. ‘He’s changed his mind and wriggled out of it. He just never had the fucking balls to tell me straight. Lucy was right. Men are shits.’
I close my eyes, descending quickly into a stupor. I don’t know whether I dream it or imagine it, or if it’s real, but I feel a finger brush against my cheek and hear Gordon’s voice again.
‘Don’t believe it,’ he says quietly, his words almost lost in the rumble of the engine. ‘Hold on.’
Chapter Eight
We stagger into the arrivals hall at JFK. Immediately, we’re greeted by a chauffeur and escorted outside to a black limousine.
‘We’ve had some pretty heavy snowfall,’ he informs us. ‘I hope you’ve brought your thermals.’
I glance at the snow – heaped up at the kerbside, piled against bollards and bins – and then I thank Lucy for checking on weather reports, insisting we bring our thickest coats.
‘Get in the car,’ she urges me, breath clouding in front of her face. ‘I’m freezing my knackers off.’
Satisfied with my achievements so far, I settle in for the next leg of the journey. Apart from one slight hiccough, I’ve
