‘Is that man bothering you?’
Yes. God, yes. For over twenty years.
‘Oh, no,’ I replied. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. I think he’s just lonely . . . he’s probably on day release or something . . .’
She smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond and returned to her friend, no doubt telling her to call the police if I started blinking at her in code. I couldn’t help myself. I took an old receipt from my bag and scribbled down ‘woman at next table is worried you’re a weirdo. Which you are.’
Oliver returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. ‘You don’t mind, do you? I thought we might get a little tipsy.’ I slyly handed him the note and watched him grin.
‘How forward of you,’ I quickly retorted. ‘But I need to make sure you’re not a dangerous psycho first. Have you ever been arrested?’
The glint in his eye was unmistakable. ‘Um . . . before I went to prison, yes, I was arrested.’
I tried my best not to laugh. ‘Why did you go to jail?’
He poured me a glass of champagne and then himself, purposefully giving himself time to think. ‘It wasn’t anything brutal. I just happened toborrowsome money from my employers without their permission.’
‘Borrow? Ha! How much? If that’s not too personal a question?’
‘Enough,’ he replied. ‘It was enough. But that’s in my past. I’m sure you have things in your past you’d rather not discuss in public?’
I knew that this was Oliver’s way of inviting me to invent something just as elaborate.
‘Perhaps,’ I answered coyly. ‘Nothing quite as illegal, however.’
If popcorn had been offered to the women at the next table, they’d have taken it.
Oliver leaned forward and touched my knee under the table. ‘But since we’re sharing, Phoebe . . .’
My plan to become different people for the evening had suddenly become far more interesting than I’d ever expected, but my mind was going blank. What could I have done in my past that I’d rather forget? Punched a dog? Slept with a Sky engineer for extra channels? Fed a burger to a cow?
‘I used to do phone sex lines,’ I blurted out, instantly regretting it.
Oliver laughed. ‘What? Phone them or take the calls?’
‘I took the calls.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t look like a sex line operator.’
‘Well . . . you don’t look like a “borrower”.’
‘I should hope not – they’re tiny.’
That was when I lost it. I started laughing so hard, champagne came out of my nose. It was then that the two women at the table in front took their coats and left. No one in need of help would be laughing this much.
‘So tell me more about your sex line work, Phoebe,’ Oliver continued, watching the women walk away. ‘Although, I should warn you: I’m already incredibly attracted to you.’
‘Oh, yes?’
He moved to the seat directly beside me. ‘Yes. So don’t ruin it.’
I did my best not to smirk but one crept over my face without my permission. ‘It’s simple, really. Men would call me up and I’d talk dirty to them.’
He downed the remainder of his champagne before pouring us both another glass. ‘Really? How dirty?’
It was my turn to lean into him. ‘Incrediblydirty,’ I said softly. ‘So filthy I’d have to get myself off just talking about it. The things they wanted to do to me . . .’
‘Like what?’ he asked quietly, before taking a sharp breath as I ran my hand up his thigh towards his crotch.
