‘Yes,’ I said.
* * *
His room smelled of difference. His bag was on a chair, unzipped, the toe of a sock peeping disarmingly through the gap. The bathroom was in darkness, but the door was ajar. His washing stuff was sitting by the side of the basin: a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant and his razor. The homely intimacy of it pulled at my gut and I suddenly thought how much I wanted this: how much I’d missed it.
‘You okay?’ I realised he’d been watching me.
‘Of course.’
‘You don’t look okay.’ He came across and put his hands on my shoulders.
‘Don’t I?’
‘No.’ He continued to look at me, scrutinising my face as though trying to read something there, I didn’t know what.
‘It just feels a bit weird. Being here.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘As though I shouldn’t.’
‘Well technically, you shouldn’t.’ He reached forward slowly and slipped his fingers around the nape of my neck. ‘Both of us booking our single rooms, making those expense claims. We should really be considering financial accountability and professional standards…’ Strands of my hair caught as he drew me into him. ‘…All those kinds of things.’ The kiss was long and soft. The room tilted. My breath was knocked out of me and I found I was trembling.
‘Are you cold?’
I shook my head.
‘You’re nervous.’ He said it matter-of-factly.
‘Not nervous, more, kind of…’
‘Not comfortable.’
‘Maybe.’ My shyness returned a hundredfold.
‘Don’t over-think things.’ His arm slid into the small of my back and I felt the pressure of his hips pushing me backwards. I instinctively wanted to look round, but he wasn’t going to let me.
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘I won’t let you fall.’
He guided me expertly to the edge of the bed, my knees buckling beneath me, and suddenly, there he was above me, gazing down. His expression was strange, troubled, as through trying to figure me out. ‘You’re still in charge; you’re absolutely in control. I’m in your hands,’ he whispered. I smiled, but he didn’t smile back, concentrating instead on smoothing my hair, his fingers threading again and again, pulling painfully at the snags as he arranged it into a coronet around my head. I went to move.
‘No don’t,’ he frowned. ‘Don’t. Stay like that. Look at your curls – they’re beautiful.’
My eyes met his, questioningly. I watched his lips as they dipped towards me and I closed my eyes; I felt his breath skirting past my cheek and I opened them. His temple was pressed close to mine, his mouth in my hair, I could feel the wetness loud in my ear as he breathed me in. ‘You smell so good,’ he whispered. He looked into my eyes, and then kissed me again, letting his tongue gently tip its way against each lip.
‘Don’t build your walls up against me. I won’t hurt you – not ever.’
My brain challenged every word, but my body responded.
‘Shhh… Trust your instincts,’ he whispered. ‘They’re right.’
My head raged in warning, but my heart responded like bathing in the warmth of the sun.
‘Shhh now…’
* * *
The sky was dark, framed by the open curtains. I had no idea if it was late. The bedside light was making a faint buzzing sound. I shifted my ear and lay against his chest, listening to the quiet thrub-thrub of his heart.
‘You haven’t asked me.’ His voice suddenly boomed into my ear. ‘Sorry, were you asleep?’
‘No, just drifting.’ I stretched my toes into the cool patch at the bottom of the bed. ‘What haven’t I asked you?’ Every joint, every muscle felt loose and unbound. My brain was a scrambled, pleasant wooliness.
‘Anything.’
‘What do you want me to know?’
‘God, you’re good.’ I heard the smile in his voice. ‘Very cool.’
I gave a tiny shrug against his side.
His chin rubbed against my hair. It made a rasping sound. ‘I’m not married, or in a relationship, nor do I have any kids. I have my own flat, my own teeth and my own car. I am a nice, decent guy – and that’s not a contradiction in terms.’
‘Is that possible?’ I let him hear the smile in my voice.
‘Absolutely possible and absolutely true.’
‘Well that’s good, then.’
His chin flexed in amusement and then he yawned, widely. He pulled me closer to him. ‘Is there anything else you need to know?’
‘Not just this moment,’ I nuzzled in closer.
‘Like you say, that’s good then…’ His voice drifted lazily and then he went quiet. There was silence for a few moments more and I felt his arm jerk. I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. I peeped up, carefully. His eyes were closed and his breathing was quiet and regular. I lay there, luxuriating in his warmth, fighting off the tiny frissons of anxiety that kept running through me. The last time I’d allowed myself to get close to someone… The last time I’d let my guard down… Dan. The pain of it had been physical… Somewhere, deep inside, the ache was still there… I batted the thoughts away. This didn’t have to be like that. Paul wasn’t Dan and sabotaging myself had become like a muscle reflex: instant and automatic knee-jerk reaction. I snuggled in and shut my eyes. I wanted to enjoy this. It was nice… he was nice. He was so right: thinking, over-thinking, letting my imagination run amok. I just needed to let things happen.
* * *
I don’t know what woke me. The side lamps were still on in the early morning light, giving the room an unpleasant grey glow.
I peered over the hump of Paul’s shoulder at the clock. 05:17.
Carefully and very gently, I eased myself from the side of the bed and patted around for my clothes, pulling them on any old how, and then finding one boot had gone missing. Fishing blindly round, I found it, clunking it against the side of the bed. Paul’s breathing changed and I paused, my own breath caught high in my throat. I waited. After a few seconds, he sighed deeply and turned over as a sudden flash on his side of the bed lit the room with a dim blue light. His phone flashed silently again and then went black. I knew I shouldn’t look. I’m not entirely sure what made me, but craning over, I gently pressed the ‘on’ button, and there, in front of me, were a whole stream of missed messages and calls, all from the same number, but no name. It took a moment for my brain to register and then a squeeze of mortification caught in my throat. What had I been thinking? Was I completely stupid? Of course. A woman: a girlfriend; a wife, even. Why had I ever thought it would be any different? Closing my mind to the stark humiliation, I blindly fished round for the rest of my clothes, and grabbing my coat and briefcase, gingerly tiptoed to the door. It glided smoothly open without a sound and I glanced back. He hadn’t moved. Slipping through into the corridor, I let the door click softly behind me.
The corridor lay in muffled stillness. I walked quickly, feeling exposed and vulnerable; my whole body tingling and burning with the shame of it. Thank God I’d seen it when I did. I was too old now to deal with all that kind of rubbish, too old and just too tired.