A bird? Or had poor Fish been trying out some wild new exercise?
She reached out her arm, poured the last drops into her glass and drained it. On the screen, the Geisha was being taught the arts of pleasuring a man. She watched keenly, suddenly feeling more awake now, getting her second wind. She had put this film on in the hope of learning a few things she could try out on Roy.
Which was why all she had on beneath her silk dressing gown was some very slinky and revealing cream lace underwear that she had bought on Saturday, at an outrageous cost, from a specialist shop in Brighton. All evening she had been planning what she would do when he arrived. She would open the door, kiss him, then stand back and let the front of the dressing gown fall open.
She was longing to see his reaction! She had once read that men got turned on by women who took the lead. And it was a real turn-on for her just lying here, in this outfit, thinking about it. The clock on the front of the video player read eight minutes past midnight. Where are you? she wondered.
As if in response, her home phone rang. She put the cordless handset to her ear and answered. It was Roy, on a crackly mobile.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m OK. Where are you, you poor thing?’
‘Five minutes from the office. I’ve got a couple of things to quickly sort for the morning – I could be with you in half an hour. Is it going to be too late to come over?’
‘No, it won’t be too late at all! Just get here when you can. I’ll have a drink waiting for you. How’s it gone?’
‘Good. It was very good. Tiring, but worth the journey. Are you really sure you’d like me to come over?’
‘I’m totally sure, my darling! Making love is really a lot more fun with two people than one!’
She heard the
‘Hello?’ she answered.
And then,
102
Skunk’s phone pinged. An incoming text. He disentangled himself from a half-undressed Bethany, desperately trying to get his bearings. He’d been asleep, his body was all cramped up, he couldn’t find the fucking phone. And he had the shakes badly now.
‘Ouch!’ Beth said as he dug his hand under her thigh.
‘Trying to find me phone.’
‘Think I broke my back earlier,’ she said, then giggled.
‘You’re a dirty cow.’
He found it, on the floor in the front passenger footwell. It was a text from DC Paul Packer:
Skunk texted back:
The time display showed fourteen minutes past midnight.
Awkwardly wiggling around, with Bethany complaining that he was squashing her, Skunk got his shell-suit bottoms back up. He still had his sneakers on. He gave Bethany a quick peck on the cheek. ‘See ya!’
‘What are you doing? Where are you going?’
‘Got a meeting in me office!’
‘Tell me about it!’
‘I gotta go.’
He climbed out of the car with difficulty, his body still stiff and very shaky, and stood in the dark shadow of the construction site hoarding, one hand on the car, the other on the hoarding wall. He was breathing heavily, palpitating, and thought for a moment he was going to throw up. Rivulets of sweat were guttering down his head and body. He saw Beth’s face peering out anxiously at him, caught like a ghost by the glare of a street lamp opposite.
He took a step forward and realized he was giddy. He swayed and nearly fell over, just catching the side of the car in time to steady himself.
He pulled the hood of his thin cagoule up over his head, then launched himself forward. A breeze had started and the hoarding rattled a little. There were silent cars parked along both sides of the street, bathed in orange sodium glow from the street- lighting. The MG was about fifty yards ahead.
