‘I’m a bit of everything, Allyson.’
You’re a bit of everything I’ve ever wanted.
Allyson cleared her throat. ‘So. I’m just putting this out there, you can take it or leave it …’ She stopped. How was she going to phrase this? ‘First of all, the job’s yours. Obviously. I wanted twelve, but, like I said, you’re my lucky thirteen.’
‘That’s great. I love the idea of this place. It was one of your customers that mentioned the ad to me, as it goes. Peregrine Sands?’
‘Oh, Mr Sands, yes. He’s got an eye for a good performance.’
‘He keeps promising he’ll have a word with some of his director mates for me, but nothing’s come up yet.’
‘Well, when the big spanking musical gets written …’
They laughed and Allyson’s heart surged.
‘I don’t know him that well,’ Emma confessed. ‘Just met him at a fetish party the other week. I got a caning and some career advice. Not bad.’
‘It turned me on,’ blurted Allyson, no longer able to maintain the brittle chit-chat. ‘What I did to you. I’m usually able to detach but you had an effect on me.’
Emma bit her lip and for an agonising moment Allyson thought she was going to get up and leave.
‘I thought I ought to be honest with you from the start,’ gabbled Allyson, filling the gap. ‘I don’t want to be like some creepy boss trying to use their power to get you into bed. I don’t want to be like that. So I’m telling you upfront. That’s all. You don’t have to say or do anything about it. But if you ever …’
She broke off, desperate for something to do with her hands, opened and shut the drawer, picked up the cigarette packet and then dropped it again.
‘It turned me on, too,’ said Emma quietly.
‘Yeah?’
Allyson slammed the drawer shut for a final time and leant forward.
‘Of course. I mean, I’m a sub, aren’t I? But there was more to it than that. You’re such a natural. And you’re – oh God, don’t take this the wrong way – but after Sofia, you’re a breath of fresh air, because you aren’t this polished, icy beauty type of person. You’re a little bit rough around the edges. You’re real.’
Allyson wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Rough around the edges! But Emma was right, of course. Allyson would never win any beauty contests, nor was she one for pouring herself into skintight latex. But she had the attitude and she had the imagination and, when it came down to it, that was what mattered.
‘Come out for dinner with me,’ she said. ‘It can lead somewhere or it can lead nowhere. It’s up to you. But if you want to give it a go …’
‘I think I do. Thanks. Is tonight good for you?’
‘It’ll have to be late.’
‘Late’s good.’
‘Midnight in Chinatown?’
‘You romantic, you.’
The midnight rendezvous in Chinatown went well. They laughed so much the other diners constantly looked over at them and then, oh glory, there was footsie under the table, something Allyson had never before experienced.
When Emma went to pour her third glass of wine, Allyson put her hand over the glass and shook her head.
‘You’re keeping a clear head, my girl,’ she said.
‘Oh? And what for?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I can’t imagine, ma’am. Why don’t you take me outside and tell me there?’