Page 100 of Untether

‘Tackle me? Go on. I can’t wait to hear this.’

I clear my throat. ‘Yeah. I called itdirty-lite.’

She bursts out laughing. ‘Meaning?’

‘I’m sure you’re smart enough to work it out.’

‘IknowI’m smart enough, but I’d enjoy hearing you explain it far more.’

‘Okay, so…’ I sigh. ‘It means what it says. Dirty, but not too dirty, you know? A little dirty talk, a littlegood girl…’ I tail off, embarrassed.

‘Wow. So you blew right through that assignment, and then some.’ She reaches for me under the covers and snuggles closer.

‘That’s a fair assessment, yeah.’

‘So was showing up at my house in a mask with aropeand making me blow you part of thedirty-litething?’

‘Erm, nope.’

‘Got it. And going down on me during an orgy and then cuffing me to a bed?’

‘Not quite.’

Her face lights up in a huge grin. ‘Lucky I’m a goodsport, as you guys say, right?’

‘You mean, lucky you’re a dirty little ho who likes it good and rough?’ I grit out, rolling her onto her back and climbing on top of her.

‘That too,’ she concedes with a smirk.

‘It’s safe to say, Ms Russell, that I spectacularly underestimated you,’ I tell her, pinning her arms above her head. Her dark hair is a lustrous halo on the pillow. Her eyes are shining and, for now, the faint chants outside are forgotten. It seems that, by some happy miracle, I’ve given her precisely what she needed this morning.

‘Many a man has done that, Mr Sinclair, and none of them had a happy ending,’ she tells me with a smile.

‘Except for me,’ I insist. ‘I was stupid enough to underestimate you and I’ve had lots of happy endings. And, if I haven’t made you too sore, I think I’m about ready for another.’

‘Go for it, but none of thatdirty-liteshit,’ she tells me. ‘Have a little self respect and give it to me like a man.’

I rear up above her, not missing the hitch in her breath as she drags her gaze down my body to where I’m fully hard again.

Game fuckingon.

66

AIDA

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

—Milton,Paradise Lost

There should be no room for ego in my profession. The way I see it, it’s kind of like politics. You know you need people who can serve as well as they can lead rather than being total egomaniacs, but, alas, that career path is rife with power-hungry dicks.

It’s the same with the news. Disseminating the news is a service, not an ego trip. Obviously, many news broadcasters disagree. Their endgame is being a household face and name. But what I’m trying to say, very inarticulately, is that there’s usually a disconnect when I see myself on camera. The stories aren’t mine to tell. I’m merely a vessel whose job it is to relay other people’s stories with clarity and accuracy and sensitivity.

That’s it. It’s never about me.

Looking at the latest draft ofParadise Found,the second part of my documentary, is a totally different feeling. Because, while the programme deals with some huge universal truths, the channel for those truths is not only my story but the most horrifyingly private part of that story.

Lorna Davidson’s words keep running through my mind. They’re a paper cut that won’t heal—measly and insidious and fucking painful.

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