Lynne Fox - Heads I Win Tails You Lose

We linger over our meal, conversation minimal but much conveyed by suggestive looks and body language so that, by the time the meal is over, anticipation and sexual desire between us is palpable.

Peter lifts up our second bottle of wine to the light.

‘All gone I’m afraid. Would you like a brandy or some coffee?’

I remove my shoe under the table and run my stockinged foot up his calf.

‘Actually, I think I’d like to go somewhere quiet.’

Peter’s smile is confident, assured; he thinks he’s in control. No matter. I can be gracious provided the end result is of my choosing. He stands and offers me his arm as we leave the restaurant.

Entering my hotel room, he pushes me against the wall as the door closes behind us and kisses me hard with an urgency that won’t admit delay. His fingers find the zip at the back of my dress and expertly pull it down, peeling the straps from my shoulders. My dress slides to the floor as he bends his head down to kiss my breasts. I place my arms around his neck as he lifts and carries me toward the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he kneels over me, removing his jacket and shirt, tossing them onto the floor as I reach for the zip of his trousers.

I close my eyes and give myself up to animal instinct, the physical sensation so satisfying I have no need of emotional attachment.

Later, under the covers, Peter makes love to me again; slower, gentler and almost reverential. Drifting into sleep I muse as to which I prefer.

Next morning we order breakfast to the room, he pours the coffee and handing me a cup he leans forward and places a tender kiss on my forehead. ‘I have to leave today.’ It’s a statement said in a tone that doesn’t allow any discussion so I simply nod my acceptance with a slight downturn of my mouth, implying my disappointment. It does no harm to dissemble.

I watch him leave, a tinge of disappointment spoiling the pleasure of the previous night, it would have been nice to have lingered a little longer but I am, above all else, a pragmatist. I must get back to see what progress the police have made regarding Edward Howden’s death and Peter would only be a distraction I can ill afford.

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