Page 48 of Resisting Mr Black

“Have you done kinky stuff with all your sexual partners?”

“What I like isn’t that kinky, really, and no not all.”

“How do you have kinky sex with someone who’s not into it? Surely not everyone’s up for it?”

“No, you’re right They’re not. Everything I do is consensual. If the woman doesn’t want to try it, that’s fine. Although I’d prefer it if they did at least try.”

I stare into my coffee. “Have you ever whipped anyone or been with more than one person at a time?”

“I’ve whipped someone because they asked me to. And I had a threesome with two women once, when I was younger. Overrated.” He raises his eyebrows and lifts the cup to his lips taking a sip.

“Who got you into the whole scene?”

“A woman.”

“Do you still have contact with her?”

He places his cup down on the table. “No. I haven’t seen her for a long time.” His hand covers mine, and he lifts his eyes to mine. “Everything I’ve done has always been with consent. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never make you do something you don’t feel comfortable with. All I ask is that you try it.”

That doesn’t sound so bad,I reason.

My phone begins tovibrate on the table beside me. “Mum calling” flashes on the screen. I hesitate. Her timing is always rubbish but I know I need to answer it, because if I don’t, she’ll just worry.

He looks at my phone, smiles, and gets to his feet, collecting the empty plates and mugs off the table.

“Hi, Mum. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, Sophie. Is it?”

I frown at the apparent panic in her voice. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t get through on your mobile, it just rang out, so I tried you at work.”

“I haven’t had any missed calls.”

“Well, I did… bloody modern technology. Anyway, Lucy said you’re off sick. Are you okay, dear?”

“Yes, I’m fine I’m just feeling a bit… sick.” I’ve always been rubbish at lying.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

I roll my eyes and lower my voice. “No, Mum. Of course, I’m not. Jesus!”

I catch the pointed look thrown in my direction from Art who’s clearing up the breakfast things in the kitchen.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I could pop by the flat,” she offers.

I press my hand against my forehead. I haven’t told her I’ve moved yet. She’d freak out about the potentially poisonous substance lurking in my old flat. I’ll save that for another time. “No, no. I’m fine, stop worrying. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay, love, if you’re sure. I was calling to say Martin has his eye on a miniatureFlying Scotsmanmodel kit, which I think he’d love for his birthday. Do you want to chip in, I’ve got it in my basket and I’m about to click buy?”

I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to buy him, so I’m in. “Of course. Text me the details and I’ll transfer some money over to you.”

“Wonderful, I’ve booked the table at Carluccio’s on the twenty-ninth.”

“Yes, twenty-ninth at half past seven,” I repeat to make sure I don’t forget. “I’ll be there.”

“Lovely. I’ll let you get some rest then. Hope you feel better soon. Bye, love.”

---