‘No. Not cappuccino.’
What? He wanted to dictate what coffee I could drink? Was that not a bit too much too soon? I watched in bemusement as he went over to the counter, then made a grimace to Lou that I hope she interpreted as “slightly odd beginning, don’t go anywhere”.
He returned with a cup of strong-looking tea.
‘Oh, tea. Lovely.’ I took a sip.
‘You look like a tea-drinker,’ he said, obviously considering this enough in the way of explanation.
‘Oh, right. But you aren’t. Andreu – what sort of name is that?’
‘Romanian. My mother’s Romanian. Like Vlad of Wallachia.’ He drained the dregs of his coffee and then leant forward, watching me intently, so intently that my hand shook and the teacup began to quiver.
‘I know what to do with you,’ he announced.
I put the cup down, fascinated.
‘I’m going to take you to my flat. You’ll get on your knees and suck me until I’m hard. I’ll push you down so your face is on the floor, I’ll take off my belt and whip you with it till you scream. But that’s what you want, isn’t it?’
I couldn’t reply, my half-open mouth and shallow breaths urging him to continue.
‘You want me to fuck you. So I’ll fuck you, hard. You’ll scream, then I’ll call my boys and they’ll come and fuck you too.’
I had to stop him there. ‘Your boys?’
‘My friends. We work together.’
‘And … fuck together?’
‘When there’s a slut who wants it, yes, we fuck together. We fuck the slut until she screams. Come on. Come back and I’ll show you.’
‘Actually …’ I half-stood, looking over to Lou.
‘Don’t play games with me.’ He was snarling, reaching over to grab my wrist. ‘You want this.’
‘Maybe, Andreu, maybe. But not like this. Not so soon. And not with you. I’m sorry.’
I managed to free my wrist once Andreu noticed people looking at us, and I backed away over to Lou.
‘You wasted my time!’ he shouted after me. ‘You stupid slut!’
‘Nice guy!’ panted Lou once we had run around the perimeter of the lake and stopped for breath by the statue of the angel. ‘Will you see him again?’
‘Shut up. He just … It all felt off, that’s all. It wasn’t right.’
‘Pity. What a face. Straight out of an aftershave ad. What the hell did you say to him, to get that reaction?’
‘Just that I didn’t want to shag on the first date.’
‘That’s why I don’t do internet dating,’ said Lou, with an irritating air of conferring great wisdom on the ignorant. ‘Too many guys sharpening their penknives for the next notch on the bedpost. Why don’t you ask Duncan out?’
‘I don’t fancy him,’ I grumped and we tramped off down the parade towards town to soothe our egos at Karen Millen.
Perhaps this just wasn’t for me. Perhaps it was all my fault. Perhaps I should have been up for wild kinky group sex in exchange for one cup of tea. After all, I had been advertising my interest in such things, or Andreu wouldn’t have responded.
I wrestled with the aftermath of the dating disaster, lying on my sofa, listening to Wagnerian sturm und drang. How safe was I in trusting my instincts? After all, I had been happy to bring Stuart back for activities most would consider inappropriate for such a brief term of acquaintanceship – why was he OK and Andreu not?
I supposed Stuart had seemed in control of himself, and considerate of my feelings, whereas Andreu had visibly seethed with all kinds of unsettling qualities. Hostility? Resentment? Hatred? Misogyny? I didn’t know him well enough to understand what might have been behind his behaviour, but whatever it was, it wasn’t my problem, and I wasn’t about to make it so.