Page 31 of A Night with Damien Spur

And how should she play her role tonight?

The siren dressed to kill, ready to devour her man?

The pussycat ready to serve her man? Something softer, less obvious… more romantic.

Yes, that’s it. A softer approach.

Nicholas needed to be gently coaxed. Teased out of hiscomfort zone.

***

It was late afternoon. Sophie smiled at her reflection in the mirror and raised her glass of champagne.

‘And here is Sophie, freshly bathed…’ she mouthed the words like a commentator on a TV cookery show, ‘… swathed in an oyster silk slip dress and, underneath, just a pair of gossamer lace panties. For the perfume? She is wearing Miss Dior – subtle, chic, not too overpowering. A perfect dish, moist and tender, ready to be served on a bed of crisp white linen. And the winner is…’ Sophie giggled. ‘Oh, Nicholas, if you only knew.’

Nicholas arrived with a bunch of yellow roses from Waitrose, a bottle of Rioja and some superglue from Tyler’s DIY to mend the handle of a treasured bright red ceramic jug that the cleaner had broken.

The jug was a memento from her favourite hotel, La Colombe d’Or in St Paul de Vence, a reminder of happy summers spent with her beloved husband, Daniel, at the charming auberge. Picasso nestled in one corner, Matisse in the other. Miró, Chagall, Bonnard, Kandinsky casually hung in the bedrooms, hallways, the rustic dining room.

How she missed her Daniel. The romance of it all. Even when little Mikey came along it didn’t spoil the fun. His father taught him to swim in the pool and sometimes in the afternoon they would all go to the Café de la Place and playboules.

Her family. Lost.

And here she was, about to seduce a married man by spiking his soup.

‘Sophie?’ asked Nicholas. ‘You okay? When do you want me to mend the jug? I can do it now if you like.’

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ said Sophie hastily, back to real time. ‘Don’t worry about the jug. You can do it tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow? That might not be possible.’

‘But you said…’

No, Sophie, no. Don’t go there. Let the evening unfold naturally. Don’t make him feel uncomfortable. Relax him. Wait and see what happens after the Viagra.

‘Anyway, darling,’ Sophie wrapped her arms around his waist, ‘can you open the champagne?’

‘Of course, darling.’ He kissed her neck, ever so softly. ‘You smell wonderful,’ he let his nose linger on her fragrant skin.

And then he thought of Kate.

It’s okay, Nicholas, don’t worry. Just have a good wash before you go home. And surely Sophie’s got some antiseptic in her bathroom cabinet. Dab it on. That’ll mask the scent.

The guilt had made Nicholas sweat.

Timing, Sophie. Too soon.

He’s not ready yet.

‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ She gently pushed him away. ‘Need to check the dinner.’

Drop the cannellini beans into the soup and cook for fifteen minutes. That leaves just enough time for a cuddle on the sofa. Get him in the mood.

‘Chin-chin.’Look deep into his eyes. Hold his gaze and just a little smile. Now talk to him, flatter him, tell him how much you missed him.

Play with his finger, stroke his hair. That’s it. Tease him…then give him a gentle kiss. That’s enough. Keep him wanting more.

‘Sophie…’ he called from the living room.

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