‘Oh yes. I’m not arguing about that.’
He removes my hand from his cock and puts an arm around me, drawing me against him so that we make one big bundle of satiated sleepiness.
‘Soph,’ he says, just before I nod off.
‘Hmm?’
‘Do you think we’ll ever get into a rut?’
I am amused. ‘Our relationship is one long rut, isn’t it?’
‘You know what I mean, Oscar Wilde. Do you think you’ll ever get bored with this?’
‘What, with a metric tonne of quality sex? I don’t think so.’
‘It’s just … I can’t help wondering why you carry on paying rent on that flat when my suite at the hotel is big enough for –’
Ah. This again.
‘Lloyd. I said I’d think about it. I’m still thinking.’
‘Your thought processes are seriously slow. You said that six months ago. You can’t fob me off forever.’
‘I won’t.’
‘I know you, Sophie Martin.’ He turns, props himself on an elbow and puts a finger to my protesting lips. ‘You will.’
He’s right. But I don’t understand the big deal. We see each other all the time – we work together, for heaven’s sake. We couldn’t be any closer. Why do we need old-fashioned symbols of commitment to prove it? I’m a person who lives for the day, and the day is sunny right now. It makes no sense to change that.
I can’t be bothered to argue though, so I mentally prepare myself for the nth recitation of Why Sophie Should Move In With Lloyd.
It doesn’t happen. What he says instead is exponentially more interesting.
‘You won’t ever make the decision, Soph, so I’m going to help you.’
I try to say ‘How?’ but his finger prevents the framing of the word.
‘I’m going to make it a game. If you lose, you move in with me. If you win, you don’t.’
He removes the finger.
‘I don’t understand. What sort of game? Cluedo? Chess?’
‘It doesn’t have a name. It’s a sex game, our favourite kind.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘The stakes are potentially high – for me at least. I’m going to set you a series of challenges. You don’t have to take them, but if you turn them down you incur a fail. You might find a scene or a person that attracts you more than I do – that’s the risk I’m taking. But if you don’t, and if you incur three fails, or decide to quit, you move in with me.’
‘Hang on. So – you’re going to send me off to have sex with various strangers or groups of strangers?’
‘Yeah, basically.’
‘And if I take them all on, I keep my flat?’
‘That’s right.’
‘But if I chicken out or get fed up with all the shagging, I have to move in with you?’