Page 23 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“That would fit to my lesbian identity?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It was a question.”

I pick up one of the thin slices of beef and throw it onto the grill. “No, I’m not a vegetarian.”

I take the beef off the grill with chopsticks. Blow on it and bring it to my lips. They’d marinated the beef in some delicious concoction of spices and sauces. Because Liam was right. This was the most delicious, tender beef I’d ever tasted.

“Did you have fun shopping today?”

“I had more fun thinking about your dance performance last night.”

His phone vibrates.

“Hold that thought,” he says, standing up looking down at his phone. “I need to take this.” He disappears behind the closed door.

I kick off my shoes, and raise silently from my chair to press my ear against the door.

The only words I managed to make out are the dockyards and Kathleen.

I hear my own phone buzz. It’s a text from Ferg. It says “50 M”. I stare down at the phone. His telling me they’ve seized fifty million euros worth of drugs. I delete the message quickly before Liam returns.

He opens the door and steps inside. Steam follows his muscular figure. His facial features have changed. Stress grips his whole body. A vein next to his temple pulsates.

He sits down taking a slice of beef and puts it on the grill plate.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Nothing I haven’t planned for,” he answers.

“Oh, what have you planned for after dinner?’’ I ask. “Another long nap?”

“Dessert,” he says, licking his fingers while he undresses me with his eyes.

“How do you like your dessert?” I ask.

“I like to dominate my dessert,” Liam says, taking a strip of beef to his mouth and forking a stem of tender steamed broccoli onto his fork.

“What about if your dessert doesn’t like to be dominated?” I ask.

He leans forward. His biceps strain against his shirt. “I’ll make her like it.”

“I’m sorry to tell you that there won’t be any dessert this evening.”

He lifts his eyes from the beef, puts his fork down and rubs the sides of his mouth with a napkin.

“I’ve got my period,’’ I explain.

“I don’t mind,” he says.

“But how are you going to pleasure me with your tongue?”

“I’d like to taste all of you.”

Part of me is repulsed by what he just said and part of me questionably isn’t.

His phone vibrates again. He stands up. “What now?” he asks.I’m sorryhe mouths at me, slinking behind the door. My shoes are still off. I tiptoe towards the door.

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