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Thirty

SNOW

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3Fa4lOQfbA

When we get back to Shane’s apartment I am feeling tense and unsure of myself. Shane has showed no signs of wanting me sexually. As if all the passion has cooled since my meltdown.

‘Nightcap?’ he offers, walking into the sitting room.

‘OK,’ I say, following him in.

‘What do you want?’ he asks.

‘Whatever you’re having is fine.’

‘I’m having Cognac.’

‘Great.’ I perch at the edge of the sofa and watch him pour our cognac.

He comes over and holds out my glass and then sits next to me, but not too close. There is a good three inches between my thigh and his knee. He leans back into the seat. I lick my lips and turn back to look at him.

‘I don’t have to stay here, you know. I feel strong enough to make it on my own now. I could get a room …’

He frowns. ‘What on earth are y

ou talking about?’

I shrug. ‘Well, ever since last night you are different. You’re friendly and protective and kind, but it’s as if you don’t want me anymore, sexually, I mean.’

He stares at me incredulously. ‘What?’ he explodes. ‘You think I don’t want you?’

I bite my lip. ‘It’s not like what it was in France, is it?’

He sits forward and shakes his head in wonder. ‘What a crazy thing to think?’ It’s not like France because I didn’t want to rush you. Can’t you tell I’m fucking fighting with myself to keep my hands off you because I don’t know if you are ready after last night?’

‘I’m ready now,’ I whisper.

He smiles slowly, his eyes glinting. The old Shane is back. ‘Prove it by doing a strip dance.’

‘You own a strip club. I’d have thought you’d be bored with that by now,’ I say with a smile. In truth I want to shout with joy. He still wants me.

‘I want to see you dance.’

‘Now?’ I ask with my eyebrows daringly lifted.

‘Can’t think of a better time.’

‘OK.’

He stands and walks to his music system and chooses something.

‘What song have you chosen?’

‘Je T’aime … Moi Non Plus by Serge Gainsbourgh and Jane Birkin.’

‘God, isn’t that like a really old number? My mother used to listen to it,’ I say, surprised.

He grins at me. ‘My grandfather had a thing for Bridgette Bardot and Jane Birkin. I’ve got all kinds of boyhood fantasies around this song.’

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