Pause (Larsen Bros)

“Thank you,” he says and does a twirl. He’s quite the dancer. That he can leer at me in my underwear while dancing at the same time is a hell of a skill.

“I like this song.”

“Hozier is great.”

At this point he attempts the moon walk, but I’m sad to say it doesn’t quite work. Maybe he needs to try it again in just socks instead of wearing his boots. Too much grip.

“That was great,” I lie encouragingly, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in my underwear. Because why not be comfortable? Only Leif can see me and he apparently appreciates the view. This is my home now. Though this does mean the Maintaining a Reasonable Standard of Clothing in Joint Areas of the Household rule is well and truly out the window.

“I need to practice more often.” He grins. Then he stops grinning and gives me his serious expression. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“Oh, right . . .”

Now he’s doing the twist. And waiting for my next words. This is expressed through some come-hither-type hand movements. Unless he’s doing a mangled version of the mashed potato. In all honesty, it could be either.

“Are we exclusive?” I ask, sitting up straight. Like I’m being interviewed for a job position or something. Which is silly. Maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted it out, but we’re never going to get anywhere if I’m not open and honest. I know that much for sure.

“Yes.” And that’s it. That’s all he says.

“Um. Okay. You don’t want to discuss it or anything?”

“Nah.” He pauses. “Wait. Did you not want to be exclusive?”

“No, I do. That’s fine with me.”

“Good,” he says. “Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

I think it over. “No.”

“There’s nothing else on your mind? Are you sure?”

“You mean like what are we going to have for dinner or something?”

“No,” he says, with a pained expression. “I mean like the you-feeling-uncomfortable-with-me-seeing-other-women’s-body-parts-sometimes-when-I work issue.”

I frown. “Ed tell you about that?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t need to. I could tell you weren’t exactly comfortable while I was with Courtney.”

Guess it’s not exactly a surprise Ed told him, what with them being family and everything. But I need to bear in mind that conversations I have with him in future might be shared with Leif. Think I need to practice my poker face in general.

“You’re right, I wasn’t,” I say. “But that’s not an us problem.”

“There’s an us?”

I shrug.

“I’m fine with it, just curious. So. How is this not an us problem?”

“Whatever our relationship is, seeing body parts is part of your job,” I explain. “You’re not asking these women to take their clothes off in front of you for kicks.”

“Of course not. I have you for that.” He holds out his hand. “Bra, please.”

I dutifully start wrestling with the closure. I have a serious problem saying no to this man. “Leif, I still think it’s you who should be stripping for me here.”

“Nah. My way is better.”

“Whatever,” I say, tossing the item of underwear at his head. “Get dancing then. Show me those moves.”

“I really wish I’d learned ‘Single Ladies’ by Beyoncé. Now that would be impressive.”

“It would be cool,” I agree.

He starts doing a side-shuffle-type thing. The man has snake hips. They’re mesmerizing really. “You were explaining why your discomfort over certain aspects of my work isn’t a conversation that involves both of us despite us doing vaguely heavy-duty-relationship-type stuff these days.”

“Heavy duty?”

He just shrugs.

“Well, for the simple fact that it is your work and I knew that before getting involved with you,” I explain.

“And?”

“I need to get over it.”

“And you can do that?” he asks. “Just get over it?”

“Yeah.”

He raises a brow.

“Don’t give me that look. It might take me a little while, but I will indeed get over it.” I laze back on the couch, getting comfortable. Oh the sweet relief of taking your bra off after a long day. So good. And apart from the occasional dip of his gaze to my chest, he’s doing an excellent job of keeping his focus on my face while we talk. “The fact is, we’re roommates with benefits. We’re exclusive sex friends, fuck buddies, stuff like that. I don’t have the right to demand you make any major life changes for me. Even if I felt I did have the right, asking you to no longer perform certain aspects of your work because I was uncomfortable would be unreasonable.”

“Huh. Okay. Panties, please.” He holds a hand out, clicking his fingers.

“This is ridiculous. You’re fully dressed.”

He shakes his head all sad like. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just ask that you politely and promptly follow them.”

“You do so make the rules.”

“Give me the panties, Anna. Don’t make me ask again.”

“This is my point exactly,” I grumble. Then I raise my hips and shimmy the panties off too. Nice, sensible white cotton underwear again. If the man wants fancy then he can provide some. These days, comfort is my thing.