Hattie confided, her voice becoming soft and just a little breathless. ‘Melanie from wardrobe told me.’
Melanie, the fount of all wisdom, had probably forgotten to mention that he was a) gay, b) married or c) both. Still, so as not to dishearten my one true friend, I patted her on the back. ‘Fab. So ask him out.’
‘Really?’ Hattie snapped to attention. ‘I suppose I could, couldn’t I?’ Sometimes she forgot this was the twenty-first century. ‘That’s how you hooked up with Nathan, wasn’t it? You asked him out.’
‘Pretty much.’ I ducked my head. The problem with discussing men was that the conversation inevitably seemed to come round to my love life. If love life had been an accurate descriptive, that wouldn’t have mattered, but what I had was actually a sex life, and a fairly unusual one at that. I was swinging with three guys and a couple, four if you counted the man I’d met at the gallery, and Hattie only knew about Nathan. As for how I’d hooked up with Nathan, the problem there started with the word ‘date’. Date hadn’t featured very prominently in our first conversation, and certainly hadn’t preceded ‘fuck’, ‘ride’, or ‘cock’, and possibly hadn’t come before ‘you don’t mind if my mate joins in, do you?’ either.
I could be a really bad girl.
I was also a monumental coward. ‘Hey, I’m going to go and straighten up the gift section.’ It had already been done that morning, but anything to avoid the relationship questions. I liked Hattie – a lot. I didn’t want to fall out with her, but I’d learned pretty quickly that people didn’t like my arrangement. While one or two friends had been accepting, more often they turned judgemental, and then cut me dead. The friends I had remaining were mostly the ones I was playing with, and even they were slightly huffy with me at the moment. It wasn’t as if I’d planned what had happened at the gallery, I’d just been swept along by events. Birthday madness, I suppose you could call it …
Let me explain first that pottery doesn’t excite me. The choice of venue for my birthday outing wasn’t of my choosing, but the tickets had been free and so was the booze, so I could hardly complain. Nor did the monochrome palette of this particular pottery collection help to inspire any new-found love. So it’s surely not much of a surprise to learn that when Nathan quirked his eyebrow and in his best James Bond voice asked if I’d prefer to be shaken or stirred I accepted his offer to find out.
We were giggling when we crept into the gallery’s green room, having completely ignored the sign that read ‘VIPs only’. It was already late in the evening at this point, and I’d drunk far too much champagne. I was feeling pleasantly tipsy. My inhibitions had sailed west and, I’ll admit, I was spectacularly failing to keep my hands off Nathan’s glorious butt. You see he’d scrubbed up rather well tonight. Out had gone his normal weathered jeans, replaced by smart black trousers, and a tuxedo and bow tie. I never could resist a smartly dressed man, and booze makes me horny.
I expected the green room to be just as dull and austere as the rest of the gallery, with its whitewashed concrete and steel design, but much to my delight, that wasn’t the case. Instead, we stepped into a world of glittering black tiles, huge gilt-framed mirrors and mood lighting. Someone with comfort in mind had designed this room. Several sumptuous red leather sofas completed the effect. But, best of all, the room was deserted.
‘Finally.’ Nathan ushered me inside and closed the door. His arms immediately wrapped around my waist from behind. ‘Which was it you said you preferred – shaken, or stirred?’ He jogged me about a bit, making me squeal, but bringing us into closer contact. Breathless with laughter, I snuggled against his warmth. ‘What say I give you a little birthday treat?’
I didn’t have to look at him to know what he had in mind. It was on my mind too.
‘We shouldn’t,’ I gushed, while relishing the prospect of being naughty. ‘Someone might come in.’
‘Really, no? Or do you just mean, tempt me some more?’ He fitted himself to the curve of my back and began to roll our hips together in a slow dance. ‘Who’s going to catch us? Folk were already leaving when we sneaked off. There’s probably only Sam and David left in the building by now.’ Sam was the gallery’s assistant manager, David her husband, one of the directors. In fact, Sam had provided the tickets for the exhibition. ‘You know neither of them would object to us having a little fun.’ His whisky-gold eyes glinted with wicked intent as he held my gaze via the mirror.
True enough, they were more likely to join in than protest. Still, this was a public building, even if it were a private lounge within it, and everyone else had gone home.
‘What about if I just creep under here a little?’ Nathan walked his fingers up my thigh, so that his hand found its way under the short hem of my dress. I clamped a hand down to stop his progress, but Nathan was one step ahead. His lips teased the shell of my ear in the exact way that’s guaranteed to undo me. Right on cue, a pleasant shiver rolled through my body, leaving me tingly and alert, and I forgot all about playing hard to get. ‘Let’s live a little, Lys. You only get to be twenty-seven once, remember.’
True enough. I kept promising myself I wasn’t going to grow old and boring. I’d already wasted too many years being young and boring. Ever since I’d split with my ex, three days into the New Year, I’d been making up for lost time. A moment later, Nathan’s fingers alighted someplace they oughtn’t to have been, prompting another sharp intake of breath.
‘Here or outside,’ he hissed. ‘There’s no way I can wait until I get you home. Got to have you soon, babe.’ His lips found mine, and I could only agree. Thoughts of cleaners and security staff were pushed to the very back of my brain. No one would walk in, and even if they did, so what. He was sexy and I was more than eager to feel what he’d got.
Nathan didn’t waste any time. He rocked forward a fraction, sliding our bodies into closer contact, while our tongues continued to duel.
‘Mm.’ I wriggled back against his hard-on, while our tongues continued to duel, and gasped to find his fly already loose.
Nathan chuckled against my shoulder. ‘God, you’re sexy when you do that. Do it again?’
I wasn’t sure if he meant the groan or the wiggle, so I did both. ‘Someone’s eager.’
‘Babe, I’m so hard, I’m aching.’ He nudged my knees apart, and slipped himself between my thighs. Hard muscle stroked along the seam of my pussy. Heat immediately filled my cheeks.
Whoa! I hadn’t realised my desire had become quite so acute. I was wet and slick, and more than a little warm. ‘Yes,’ I encouraged, trying to angle my hips in order to capture him more fully. ‘More.’
‘Babe, you’re so soft and warm.’ He trembled a little, as he tried to hold me steady. It didn’t work, I was just too eager, and feeling him there, right between my thighs, mere millimetres from where I wanted to get him, was proving too much. ‘Yeah,’ he sighed, sliding against me. ‘Just, yeah.’
When the door swung open, I had sense enough left to try and push Nathan off. He, of course, was having none of it. Thankfully, the intruder turned out to be David, with Sam not far behind.
‘I told you we’d find them somewhere they weren’t supposed to be, being inappropriate,’ David remarked.
‘And I agreed, if you recall. Honestly, you two. Can’t you keep your hands off one another for a second?’ Sam cast a stern glance in our direction before giving her husband a hungry kiss, hands already groping his body.
‘If
