Guilty Pleasure. Jane O'Reilly
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‘I wish that I was wearing a skirt,’ I reply.
‘Why?’
I lift my drink, sip a little. ‘Because I really need your fingers inside me right now.’
Ethan lifts his pint, takes a long, slow pull. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his throat work, as I watch Cal playing on the quiz machine. A couple of girls have moved closer, and it doesn’t surprise me to see him quickly engage them in conversation. ‘I see.’
He moves his hand away, and my heart leaps up into my throat. ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ I say quickly, panic rising inside me.
‘On the contrary,’ he says. ‘It’s exactly what you should have said.’ He sets down his pint and gets to his feet. He smoothes his tie and looks down at me. Everything he does is so careful, so considered. I’m constantly wondering what he’s going to do next, what he’s going to say. ‘I’m going back to the office for a bit,’ he says. ‘I have some work I need to finish.’ He moves away from the table, talks to Cal for a moment. Cal looks at Ethan, then looks over at me.
Then Ethan walks out of the pub. I don’t let myself watch him go. I play with my drink and I play with a beer mat and I ache and ache and ache. And then I get to my feet and walk over to Cal. ‘I’ve got to get going,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ One of the girls scowls at me.
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