‘Not funny, Ella,’ he said. ‘Your safety is the priority here. And besides…that was for my eyes only.’
‘Oh, really?’ I murmured, as his thighs pressed against mine.
He put his hand on my skirt, finding the little bumps in the fabric.
‘Mmm,’ he said, his intonation fraught with lustful implications. ‘Oh, God. I’m not sure I fancy this soup now. All I want to do is get that skirt up and…’
‘Not here,’ I whispered urgently. A couple of elderly ladies with John Lewis bags had taken a table within earshot.
‘I can’t help it,’ he said. ‘All I can think of is bending you over this table and getting your knickers down ready. Just to the tops of your stockings. Oh, God.’
‘Tell me about the councillor you met,’ I said, thinking a distraction might be needed, at least until the bill was paid.
‘Stop killing me,’ he moaned.
‘Did you wear that shirt for him?’
He put his hand to his pristine collar and pulled it away from his neck as if to aid breathing.
‘Might have done,’ he said. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s dapper,’ I said. ‘One might even say soigné.’
‘Oh, might one?’ he said, amused.
‘If you had the rest of the suit to go with it…’ I let a spoonful of soup drip back into the bowl. It was supposed to illustrate something, but I wasn’t quite sure what.
‘You like a power-dressing man? Well, it makes sense, I suppose.’ He hooked a finger into the big bow at the neck of my pretend-silk blouse. ‘Since we’re talking clothes, I should compliment you on your pussy.’
‘Bow,’ I said, trying not to spit soup everywhere. ‘It’s called a pussy bow.’
‘Whatever. Have you finished that soup yet? I want to bundle you into the toilets.’
>
‘I doubt there’s time for anything like that,’ I said, and it was regrettably true. We had fifteen minutes. ‘Maybe tonight?’
He made a face. ‘Sorry, no can do. Meeting up with some mates. Afterwards? But it might be late.’
‘How late?’
‘After midnight.’
I thought about this. For about a nanosecond.
‘OK.’
He patted my suspender-bumped thigh.
‘I’ll be thinking about these all evening. You’d better be wearing them when I get there.’
‘My place?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘But what about Jess and Mehra?’
‘It’ll be late,’ he said, rubbing his palm up and down my thigh. I wanted him to hook his fingers under my hem and make them walk slowly up the bare skin beneath.