On the guest list: Lincoln, Jake, Mal, O, Rachael, Jade. We could, if so minded, dance an eightsome reel. But somehow I don’t think that’s going to be on tonight’s agenda.
What actually is on the agenda is a moot point. Lloyd is worried about balancing vanilla and kink, wondering if we should go overboard on bondage furniture or just let our guests improvise at will.
‘I think we should just go with the flow,’ I say, chopping up celery and peppers for crudités. ‘Hand them a drink, direct them to the food table and let them get on with it.’
All the same, Lloyd is whizzing to and fro, pondering new cocktail recipes, spraying fragrance on all the bedding and constructing an elaborate table centrepiece out of sex toys. I hadn’t realised we owned so many dildos.
‘You’re so creative,’ I say, admiring his handiwork as I plonk plates of canapés down all around it. ‘You could be a florist.’ I turn to watch him plumping up sofa cushions. ‘Actually, we’re short of a chambermaid just now.’
‘Shut up, Sophie,’ he growls. ‘I want everything just so.’
‘This is a big deal to you, isn’t it?’
He leaves the cushions alone and stands straight, looking me in the eye. ‘Yes. Isn’t it to you?’
I shrug, not wanting to admit it. Old habits die hard. ‘It’s just a party.’
‘It’s more than a party and you know it.’
‘What is it then?’
He beckons me over and catches me before I reach him, holding me close, tucking my head under his chin. ‘It’s the closest we’ll probably ever come to a wedding,’ he says.
I stiffen, the word ‘wedding’ making me want to wheeze.
‘Yeah, I know.’ He sighs. ‘It takes time to overcome a phobia, and commitment phobia’s no different. But this is a commitment ceremony, of a sort. It’s you and I, standing up in front of witnesses and telling them that we are together, by choice. Partners as well as lovers.’
‘And we’ll register our commitment by shagging everyone in sight.’
Lloyd pats my bottom. ‘It’s unconventional,’ he admits. ‘But we don’t have to do things by the book. There isn’t a book, is there? Not for us.’
‘Unless it’s a dirty one.’
He squeezes me. ‘Right. But you do see what I’m saying, don’t you?’
‘This is a commitment.’
‘Yes. And a statement of intent. Something that says who we are and how we want to live. It’s important to get this into the open. It is to me, anyway.’
I look up at him, his creased brow, his anxious eyes, and kiss him. ‘I get that. You want to make a declaration.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Well, if I say I’m quite a private person it’ll sound weird, but … oh, why not? I’ve got nothing to hide. I don’t care who knows I want to be with you.’
‘Thanks. That means a lot to me. But are you wearing that?’
I’m in Capri pants and a washed-out vest for the purposes of housekeeping and vegetable chopping.
‘No. I don’t suppose you’re going to get much action in that shirt either.’
‘Even from you?’
‘Especially from me. Better get ready.’
I can’t decide what’s best for the purposes of an orgy. Fancy underwear and nothing else? Sophisticated evening wear? A rubber dress? Most erotically charged types of clothing are well represented in my wardrobe, but I can’t seem to make the decision.
I get Lloyd to wear the black outfit he wore at the fetish club, complete with eye mask and gloves, but I still can’t make my own mind up.