But I need to breathe.
“Fuck me, Cora,” Anders whispers against my forehead.
And I would. Here, at this moment, in his office, I would.
But it’s business hours, and during any day, Anders is fully scheduled. His computer chirps with the warning of an incoming video call with the tax accountant. I step away, wiping a hand across my tingling lips. Anders looks slightly shellshocked as I smooth down my clothes. I wonder how long it will take for his erection to ease. He’d better make sure he’s sitting down before he turns the camera on.
The chirp is insistent. As I turn to leave, his hand catches mine. “Later,” he promises. But I’m his assistant. I know the reality of his day. He has five-minute coffee and toilet breaks, that’s all. Even lunch is ten minutes, just enough time to scarf down a sandwich. If I’d been thinking clearly, I’d have realised sooner how difficult this is going to be.
Everything Coming Up Primroses
As far as love is concerned, the week is a disaster. We have snatched kisses and brief touches, enough to leave me wanting more. Certainly not enough to put my lustful daydreams to sleep. Even when I hassle Effie out of bed a half hour early so I can get into work well before my start time, I find Anders fully occupied. The problem with having a new venture in a time zone eight hours ahead, is that breakfast is the only time for them to communicate.
When our scheduled Friday meeting rolls around, there is so much to cover, neither of us has the time to do more than French kiss for five minutes before we need to move on with work. I have a brief fantasy about wanking my boss off with my left hand while taking notes with my right, but the truth is, I’m not that coordinated.
Just as we’re finishing up, Anders says, “Can I see you tomorrow?”
I grimace. “I have Effie all weekend.”
“Perfect,” he says. “I’ve not forgotten my promise. We can go to the museum.”
“I’ll have to check that’s okay with Effie,” I say cautiously, although I’m fairly certain she’ll be ecstatic. She hasn’t reminded me about Anders’s suggestion again, but I can guarantee she hasn’t forgotten it. But she’s used to men not following up on their promises, so she has learnt not to trust in them.
I mention it to her before Dana and Max come over. Her eyes light up. “Really?” she asks. “We can go to the museum? With Anders?”
I’m almost certain Anders won’t flake out, but I caveat it because it’s an awful lot of trust to put in him at this stage. And he probably doesn’t even realise it. “If he’s not too busy.”
“And Smaug’ette? Can she come too?”
I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be safe for her. You heard what Anders said on our visit. She’s more delicate than she looks.”
Effie considers, then nods. It’s that simple. We wait until Dana and Fiona collect Max in the morning. As they head out of the door, Dana gives me a knowing wink. Effie and I are still in our pyjamas as I scoot around our home doing the housework. I normally shower in the evenings, after Effie is safely asleep in bed but this morning, I risk a quick two-minute shower with the bathroom door open.
Effie is particular about her clothes, so I let her choose her t-shirt and shorts before I spend far too long deciding on my own dress. I leave my hair down. I’m about to add make-up when I drop the tube back onto the dresser. I have to wear it all week at work. Weekends, I normally goaunaturelle.If Anders goes off me because I’m not wearing mascara, then he isn’t worth my time.
We meet him at the exit from the underground station. I almost don't recognise him. It's a warm day, and he's wearing a white linen shirt, grey cargo shorts, and Converse low-tops. Abaseball cap and black shades complete his transformation. It's like he stepped off a Rhode Island ferry. This is a side of him I don't know. It's something I've never seen before.
“Hey, how's it going?” He presents Effie with a fist bump. She stares at it for a moment — she is not one of the cool kids — then forms her hand into a fist and holds it up. Lightly, he touches her, knuckle to knuckle. It strikes me this is a good salute for a child like Effie; a greeting but with minimal physical contact.
“Wow,” he says as he leans in to give me a light peck on the cheek. He does it casually, naturally, like this is how we always meet. But I feel the sensation of his lips on my cheek long after they've gone. His hand slides down my arm to wrap around mine. Effie's eyes track the movement. She is standing by my side, but she shrugs her hand out of mine, walks over, and places it in his.
Neither Anders nor I say anything about it. “This way,” I nod in the right direction, and we set off.
There's a queue waiting for entrance, but we skip it. Anders had the foresight to reserve spaces online. But as soon as I enter the building, I know this visit is a mistake. The place is heaving. Tourists shoulder to shoulder with families, children in pushchairs, older ones crying, calling out, running around. The grand old architecture, the stone surfaces, the soaring ceiling only act to magnify the sound.
It is hot, and the mass of sweaty bodies is not helping. Even I find it unpleasant. For Effie, it must be stretching the bounds of her tolerance. I feel awful because I know Anders must have gone to some effort to arrange this, and Effie has been looking forward to it since I told her. She will force herself to stay long past her ability to endure the sensory overload, and it will only end badly.
If this thing with Anders goes any distance, he will eventually see an Effie meltdown. But I'd much rather he got to knoweverything that is marvellous about my daughter first, before he is confronted with the downsides.
“We need somewhere quieter,” I whisper, although the noise level is such that I could have spoken in a perfectly normal voice and Effie would not have heard. I put an emphasis onneed, hoping he understands, as I look down at Effie meaningfully. He nods, consults his map, and leans down to my daughter.
“We'll do this bit another day, when there are fewer people,” he says. “Let's go and see the specimens. I wonder if they've got a tarantula.”
Oh God, I hope not.
But Effie nods eagerly, and we set off.
We spend our time in quieter spaces. They do indeed have a tarantula. I hang back, trying not to look into the cases, while the two of them exclaim over the treasures they find. From time to time, he lifts her up so that she can see better. I watch them interact with a little catch in my heart. If only she could have this with her own father, she would be so happy. But he treats her interests with a complete lack of curiosity, all the while expecting her to take part in his own: football, music, pubs.
