Page 37 of Untether

His hand stays on my thigh. There’s something familiar about this touchy-feely dynamic between us. It’s right there at the back of my mind, bothering me, evading me.

Until it isn’t.

Of course! The way we are together reminds me a little of the relationships between the professional dancers and the celebrity contestants onStrictly Come Dancing.It’s something that’s always given me a kick, seeing how physical those relationships get.

I’m not the only one—the British tabloids are always rife with speculation about which couples are fucking for the entire three months each year that the show airs. And, while dancing Argentine tangos with someone day in, day out is entirely likely to make you more likely to want to fuck them, the intensive daily dance practices tends to make every single couple physically relaxed with each other to an extent that’s pretty extreme.

These guys know their way around each others’ bodies, theytrusteach other with their bodies, and it shows more and more as the competition goes on. Which leads me to wonder if Cal and I will be openly making out in a few weeks from now, having ditched these chairs for a two-seater couch.

‘You still don’t know what Callum has in store for you tomorrow, is that right?’ Simone is asking me now.

‘That’s right.’ I squeeze his hand playfully. ‘He’s been playing his cards close to his chest.’

‘Okay, Callum,’ Simone says. ‘Time for the big reveal.’

When she says that, like aStrictlyhost, I have the most uncharacteristic urge to giggle right there. Because instead of saying,well, Simone, next week we’ll be performing the foxtrot,what can he possibly say?

Well, Simone. Tomorrow we’ll be exploring the reverse cowgirl style. This is a tough one. Aida’s going to need to work on her rhythm, as well as all the quad work that style involves.

Oh my fucking God.

Thankfully, Cal doesn’t say any of that. He takes a deep breath and smiles straight at me, and I realise that even if he’s not exactly nervous, he’s hoping that what he says next will please me.

‘Tomorrow’s all about Aida,’ he says. ‘Obviously, this entire process is all about Aida. So you’re welcome to veto this, sweetheart. But it’s really important that we start slow. I actually got some advice from a pretty stressed-out mum I know who gave this idea a big thumbs up, so I’m hoping it’ll sound good to you.’

He asked a female friend? My nervous system floods with some kind of feel-good hormone as I realise how intent he is on making this a positive experience for me.

‘Go on,’ I prompt, grinning goofily at him.

‘Tomorrow I’ll be giving Aida a full-body massage,’ he says, glancing to the camera before turning his attention right back to me. He shifts in his seat so his body is facing me. ‘It can be as clean or dirty as you want to make it. I’ll be led by you. Tomorrow is about you getting used to me touching you. It’s about you relaxing, and feeling indulgedand cared for, and it’s about getting you to trust me. You’ll call all the shots.’

He clears his throat and places his other hand under mine so he has my hand in a kind of sandwich between his palms.

‘It’s about making you feel great, and getting you to be present in that gorgeous body of yours, and—this is very important—it’s about showing you exactly how much I’ll enjoy touching you. Because I know I will.’

His face is so intense now, those huge, dark eyes fixed on mine. His expression is as genuine as his tone, and I drink it in. I drink it all in.

‘How do you think that sounds, sweetheart?’ he asks.

I don’t think it’s just the recognition that this is TV gold that has me swallowing before I can answer him.

My daily experience throughout my career has been of shouty white men. Of entitled guys ignoring me. Talking over me. Talking overeach otheraround newsroom desks or across political debates.Intent on making their own voice heard, on furthering their own agenda.

But this guy listens. He’s listened to everything I’ve told him. And while that may seem like a low bar, it’s everything to me.

‘It sounds perfect,’ I tell him, and I don’t need to fake my smile.

24

CAL

We’ve arranged to do all of the sex stuff at Alchemy. It makes sense. After all, I have an entire sex club at my disposal and it lies empty until its doors open to our ravenous members at eight o’clock each night.

That’s the good part.

The less good part is that, to accommodate this and Aida’s desire to do the school pickup, our rendezvous will take place while her sons are at school. It’s fine with me—I can fuck anytime, anywhere—but I’m conscious that ten-thirty in the morning isn’t exactly sexy o’clock for her.

She’s getting ready in a bathroom down the hall. All our rooms are ensuite, but I wanted her away from this room to maximise the impact when she sees it for the first time. Besides, she’s recording some candid to-camera stuff on her phone. It’ll be rough and ready, but she hopes it’ll give her viewers a good idea of how she’s feeling in this moment.

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