The Key (3 page)

Wine and glasses put before us on the bar, the drinks paid for by David, the barman left us to it. I breathed a sigh of relief and waited for David to pour us both a hefty measure. He appeared in no hurry—he obviously let it breathe for longer than I did. I didn’t feel it would be appropriate for me to pour it myself, even though I could just do with grabbing the bottle and supping from it directly. I needed the Dutch courage. Instead, I took off my raincoat then draped it over my arm. Balancing my elbow on the bar so my jacket fronts just happened to part, revealing the PVC corset with the laces accidentally on purpose not done up tight enough, I didn’t glance down to see if the desired amount of boob was visible. I smiled at David, acting oblivious.

“Oh, well now…” He cleared his throat and leant forward so his mouth was beside my ear. “Your, umm, your breast… Your nipple… It’s trapped between two strands of those laces. Looks rather painful.”

I’d wondered what that pinching feeling was. With him still close, I reached up and cupped one side of his face. “Why don’t you fix that, then?”

He coughed and eased back, looking me straight in the eye. “What, in here?”

“Why not? The order of the day is to live dangerously, no? Be alive and vigorous in our dealings with one another. You said that I am forward, and I think that you secretly like it. Could I not be more forward than that?” I paused and offered him a wink and a half-smile. “Fix my clamped bud. Free it from its confines and give me relief. Or”—I tugged at his tie—“pull the laces tighter and make me howl.”

He appeared alarmed, his non-monobrow raising high. “Good Lord, are you all right? I mean, do you have a condition where you can’t help what you’re saying?”

“The only condition I have is that you suck my bud, too. I dare you to do it.”

I had no idea what on earth had happened to me since taking off my raincoat and could only put it down to the fact that my sexy clothing was on show, which, in turn, had brought out my sexy self.

He glanced towards the men on the stools behind me, then to the barman. “I… They’ll see us.”

“Drop something so it makes a loud noise and then they’ll think you are bending down to pick it up. On the way, you can lick my nipple, if you please.”

He released air through his mouth, cheeks puffing out, but nevertheless reached into his jacket pocket to produce a set of keys. He looked about nervously then dropped them, their clank on the floor loud. Swiftly, he bent over and licked my boob, missing my nipple completely. No matter—that he’d been prepared to be as daring as I’d been so far meant he had potential to become quite interesting date material.

“There,” I said as he snatched up his keys and stood upright again, safe from my reach by moving back a step. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Um, no, but… Listen, do you want to get out of here?”

“Not particularly. A good bottle of red should not go to waste.”

In truth, I was afraid to leave at that moment as I wasn’t in control of myself. Chantal had well and truly taken over and I couldn’t trust her alone with this man.

“Yes, quite.” He smiled, a pretty deep pink blush on his cheeks, and set about pouring us those hefty measures I’d longed for a few minutes ago. “There you are.” He slid one glass towards me, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you,” I said, lifting the glass then sipping daintily, staring at him over the rim.

He gulped back a large mouthful, albeit in a controlled manner, then closed his eyes for a second or two. Once he opened them again, he seemed more with it but a tad preoccupied. I had an idea I’d frightened him. He’d said on the phone that he wasn’t used to forward women, so I reckoned he was feeling out of his depth, unsure where to go next.

“Shall we take a booth?” I asked, gesturing with my head to one in the far corner, where we’d be shielded quite nicely from everyone else.

“Oh, I’m… Is that wise?”

“Of course it is,” I said, running my fingertips down the top of his arm. “How else will we get to know one another unless we spend quality time alone?”

“It’s the
alone
I’m a little afraid of,” he said, ending with a chuckle. “I’m not… You’re—”

“I’m what, David?”

“Extremely sexy,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t think I can trust myself with the likes of you. In private. Things might happen that perhaps shouldn’t on a first date.” He inhaled deeply. “I… You’re…”

“Yes, I am sexy, no? Be yourself, David. Be the man you’ve always wanted to be. Come. We will sit over here.”

I walked away, sashaying so he’d be under no illusion what the back of my skirt disguised. He’d already copped an eyeful of a section of my naked flesh, so maybe it was time for him to see some more. I entered the booth and sat with my back to the other customers, hidden by a well-placed pillar littered with shiny horse brasses. I wondered, as I waited for him to join me and freed my nipple from its confines, if he was a leg man and me revealing the top of my thigh above the stocking band would do the trick to loosen him up. Perhaps an exposed tit in public wasn’t his thing.

Relief gusted through me when he sat beside me. He leant forward to place the bottle of wine on the table along with his glass. I still clutched mine, a lifeline of false bravado in the form of dark berries infused with what I thought might be cinnamon. While he got himself comfortable, elbow lightly jabbing into the side of my breast, I idly had a thought that my teeth might have gone that hideous lilac they sometimes went after drinking certain reds.

I nudged him so he looked at me, then gave him a beaming smile, showing as many of my teeth as possible. If he reared back in disgust, I’d know it would look like I’d eaten the biggest beetroot on the planet and the answer to my musings would be clear.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he asked, showing no signs of distress.

“Yes, but nice is so boring, do you not think? Naughty is so much better.”

“Um, yeah. I could do with some naughty.”

I felt that had been a bit of a struggle for him to say, as though he was trying very hard to keep up with me and my runaway mouth.

“Ah, I am so glad you expressed that,” I said, thickening my accent. “Because I do naughty so very well. Would you like to find out
how
well, David Thompson?”

Chapter Three

“We need to leave,” he said, reaching out for his wine and necking the lot in five seconds flat. He dumped the glass back down with a thud, and it teetered, at one point appearing as if it might fall over. “It’s not safe to stay here.”

“Safe?” I asked, glancing around in mock horror. “You forget I am a secret detective. Nothing frightens me.”

He laughed, a little unsteadily I thought, and the nugget of JS still sitting inside me felt sorry for him. Chantal was bold as brass, insane even, possibly terrifying to a man like him. Hell, she was scaring me with how well she’d made herself at home.

“Don’t be daft,” he said, smiling. “I mean it isn’t safe in here for you in a sense that I want to touch you, but don’t want an audience.”

I swivelled, leaning back to peer around the pillar, the laces strangling my nipples. “They are all discussing their lambs and things. Cowpats and suchlike. They are not interested in a couple enjoying a bottle of wine after a long
hard
day. Are you hard, David?”

“Christ. I will be if you keep on,” he said, twisting the wine bottle as though he was contemplating whether or not to pour himself another glass. “You’re so…different from other women I know. Is it because you’re French?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “Perhaps it is just who I am. I will not deny that I find you attractive and I want to touch you too—what is the point in refuting that? We are here to see if I am the key to slide into your lock. Do you think I might be?”

“I’d say there’s a bloody good chance. Blimey.” He shook his head. “Many men dream about women like you, did you know that? I never thought… Jesus.”

“He will not help you, but the devil might, if only you would allow him to.”

He stood abruptly, left the table and walked away. For a moment I thought he’d changed his mind about the feelings I’d inspired in him and just had the urge to remove himself from the vicinity in order to calm down. He spoke to the barman, who produced the wine cork, nodding in that way men had of silently saying, “
You’re in there, mate
.”

Yes, he would be in there if I had my wicked way.

Back at the table, David pushed the cork into the top of the bottle then sat beside me again. He leaned across and whispered, “Drink up. Really, we need to leave. I’m about to embarrass myself. I can’t look at you without my…”

I guzzled my wine, beetroot-stained-teeth effect be damned, then put my glass on a coaster advertising Guinness. The alcohol joined the potency of Chantal’s personality, leaving me lightheaded and weak-legged. I held up one finger. “Just wait for a second, please. I need to collect myself.”

“Would you like a second or two alone? I can wait by the door, if you like.”

“No, I am quite all right now, thank you.”

I stood, teetering a bit, unused to such high heels. He took my arm, picked up the bottle, and I walked with him to the door. Once again he opened it, allowing me through first. Out in the cold air, I realised that the freshness of it would mess with my head, making me feel drunker than I actually was.

“Oh!” I leaned into him. “This air is bracing. I wish for a warm beach in France where we could stroll in the sand and perhaps fuck behind a dune.”
Oh, Lord Almighty, stop me now.

“That would be… Yes, that would be very nice.” He led me across the car park. “I’m afraid I don’t have any dunes handy, but I do have a car—not that I expect us to become further acquainted in there. What I meant was, I could take you home and we could meet up again another time when you’re… You look a bit peaky. Are you all right?”

“Of course,” I said, looking around to see where his car was.

There were none in sight.

“Listen, I’ll be as blunt as you,” he said. “I don’t usually do first-date fucking.” He guided me to the footpath, walking me along it, past houses then some high bushes that appeared to stretch on forever. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but it’s never felt right, d’you know what I mean?”

Jane knew, but Chantal found the idea alien. “No, I do not know what you mean. If two people want to be together in that way, then there is no firm rule on this earth that says one should not act on impulse. If we are feeling a little rampant, what would be the harm?” I smiled up at him. “
Do
you feel rampant?”

“Oh, God. You’re incorrigible.”

“But fun, which is what you wanted, yes?”

“Yes. Look, I live down here a little way. Do you want to come back to my place? It doesn’t mean I’m going to take advantage of you but—”

“I want you to,” I said. “That is the idea. We need to see if this key is me before we waste any more time. If I am not the right one—I may be gold when you prefer silver—then it is best to find out now rather than later. Your fair maiden might be out there somewhere, and you may miss her if you spend time with me when it is clear we are not meant to be.”

I’d just spouted the biggest load of waffle of my life, but hey, he didn’t seem the least bit put off by my words. He stared ahead, seeming to ponder what I’d said.

“I suppose,” he said. “What difference would it make if it were tonight, tomorrow or next week?”

“That is the ticket,” I said. “Come along. Lead me to your flat.”

“It’s a house.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “Tell me, you obviously like the look of me, otherwise you wouldn’t be coming back to my place, but what do you think of me as a person?”

“We hardly know one another, have hardly spoken, so I cannot say. What I
can
say is that you do not seem weird, you are a gentleman, and you are not visually disruptive, offending my retinas.”

Visually disruptive? What the fuck?

He laughed, loud and with his head thrown back, and I felt pleased with myself that I’d made him do that. I’d been worried my choice of words would have struck him as strange, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“My God,” he said. “You’re such a breath of fresh air.”

“Good. I would not want to be halitosis.”

He laughed again, bending forward as we walked, and I realised it wasn’t so difficult to get a man to like me. Why hadn’t I been more like Chantal years ago? The trouble was, what would happen when—or if—he discovered I was actually Jane Smith, a boring old fart who stumbled over her words and didn’t have anything witty to say in the slightest? I’d save that dilemma for the future. No sense in mulling over it now. It could sour the mood, and I was on a roll.

“How have I missed meeting a woman like you? Do any others even exist?”

“I have no idea on both counts, but I am glad you put the advert in the paper.”

“Christ, me too. You have no clue how glad I am.”

Warmth burst inside me, and I let it spread, heating my body and cheeks. He was upright again now, so I leaned into him and squeezed his hand back. An explosion of happiness joined the warmth, and I was so full I was fit to burst. I’d expected tonight to be a disaster, and many meetings with many different men going the same way. Could I really have found the man of my dreams so easily?

“I think I have a good indication,” I said. “Do you usually take women back to your home on the first night, even if you do not have sex with them?” I sidestepped a pile of dog poo, highly pleased about that as I really didn’t want to sully my jazzy black heels.

“Um, no. The women I’ve dated in the past… Well, let’s just say they’ve been women who already knew me, so I was never quite sure whether… Well, whether they really liked
me.
”

“Of course they must have liked you, otherwise they would not have gone out with you in the first place. You are talking a bit of nonsense, I think, no?”

“No, you don’t understand, and a part of me doesn’t want to take you home because then you would, and at the moment you just like me for me. As far as you’ve said, anyway.”