My chin dips. “You want a cup of tea?”
“Oh. You don’t?”
I breathe in slowly. “No, I don’t.”
Maybe Charlie doesn’t hear me because he busies himself looking in my cupboards, presumably for tea bags and a mug. I choose not to help him – he’ll find everything soon enough – and instead, while his back is turned, I unzip my dress and slide it off my body. Quickly, I adjust my bra so my breasts bloom out of the top and I pull up the waistband of my matching magenta thong, flattening the lace on my hips. I kick my dress onto the chair next to my chest of drawers which I move to now, using the mirror resting on top to check my reflection.
My make-up is far from perfect and it’s probably time to take it off, but peculiarly, of the many things I am ready to do with Charlie, letting him see me without my make-up is not one of them. Instead, I reapply some lipstick and tidy up my eyeliner, glancing occasionally at Charlie who has taken his jacket off and is now looking in the fridge, the door blocking his view of me.
When I hear the fridge door shut, I look across at him again and that’s when he also turns his head to see me.
And in a single second, his jaw drops, his eyes open wide and the carton of oat milk he had in his hands falls to the floor. I watch it land with a thud, heavy enough to split one of the bottom corners and milk starts to spill out over the worn lino tiles of my kitchen corner.
But Charlie doesn’t move. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even blink.
As much as I’m enjoying his stunned admiration of my body, I don’t want to risk another stain in my flat so I quickly move to the kitchen where I reach past Charlie – his eyes still firmly on me – and I grab a tea towel that I throw on the floor to soak up the worst of the mess.
“Mina,” he says as I bend to pick up the carton that is now all but empty.
“Yes, Charlie?” I ask a little coyly as I turn the carton upside down so it stops spilling.
“You… you are…” he starts and I can see he’s trying, trying so hard to not look down at the full swells of my breasts or to take in the curve of my hips and backside. I can see he’s trying to maintain eye contact with me.
“I’m what, Charlie?” I tease, licking my lips.
“You reallydon’twant a cup of tea, do you,” he finally says, a bit of composure returning to his face with a slow side smile.
I shake my head. “No, and I’m afraid it looks like you’re not going to get one too.” I toss the carton into the sink and right on cue, the boiling kettle clicks off. My hands free, I put them on my hips.
Maybe this new stance of mine gives Charlie permission to let his eyes roam, and they do, but it’s not like before. This time they are languid and greedy about it. His gaze leaves a path of heat wherever it touches me. And his smile becomes more of a smirk.
“Mina, I want to touch you so much, my fingertips itch with it,” he says when his eyes are back on my face, but not on my eyes, they’re on my lips.
I feel my nipples harden to points. Instinctively, my back arches.
“You can touch me, Charlie,” I tell him in a whisper.
Much to my surprise and honestly, to my dismay, he shakes his head. The lust that was swimming in his eyes a moment ago hasn’t disappeared but it has faded. “I want to talk first. We should establish what we like, what we don’t like. Like I said, last Saturday, it’s been a while for me since I was with a woman and I don’t want to be a complete bumbling idiot, no more than usual anyway.” He laughs lightly at himself. “We should also maybe talk about work and how this could affect that. But most of all, I want to do this right by you, Mina.”
I can’t stop the exasperated sigh that pushes past my lips. “I promise to not be awkward with you on Monday morning. That work?”
Charlie’s shoulders drop and I’m annoyed to notice he’s having no problem keeping his eyes on mine now. “Mina…”
“Charlie…” I say, mimicking his warning tone.
“Is it hard for you to talk about what you like in bed?”
“No, it’s not. I can tell you what I like. But I’d rather show you,” I say, stepping a little closer, my breasts brushing against his T-shirt.
“Show me?” He leans into me, which is exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
Satisfied with this, I turn and walk back to my bed, leaving him standing there in the middle of the room alone. I sit down on the end of it.
“Yes, because I’ll tell you this much. I like to give orders. I like to be in control. I like to feel like I’m in charge.”
Charlie clears his throat. “Well, I don’t mind following orders sometimes.”
“Prove it,” I say.
