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Me:It’s okay. I got to watch your butt as you walked away. I’m all good.
Him:LOL. My friends all think you’re amazing. I don’t blame them. You look stunning tonight.
Me:And at the end of the evening you can use my hair to mop the floor.
Him:I love your crazy hair. And your mouth. It was very soft.
Me:Aren’t you supposed to be working?
Him:I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you again.
I warm all the way through, and it’s nothing to do with the gin. Or not much.
Me:I want to kiss you again, too. A LOT.
Him:Next time, I’m going to take it slower. Take my time. Kiss you until you’re dizzy. Until you can’t think about anything except me.
I fan myself.It’s so hot in here. I’m supposed to be teaching you how to sext.
Him:I’m a quick study.
Me:Won’t the others think you’re not paying attention?
Him:I don’t give a duck.Immediately, he comes back:Damn autocorrect.
I laugh. He doesn’t say anything else, and I guess he’s actually having to do some business.
Sighing, I slip my phone back into my purse and pull the shoulder strap across me so it rests on my hip. I have a sip of the G&T, then a few more, and suddenly realize the glass is empty.
“Another?” Simon the bartender asks.
I blow out a breath. “No thanks, not right now.” I’m feeling very merry, and it’s still early evening.
Mack’s still not back, and Victoria is busy talking to a group of people. I feel out of place, and a bit surreal. I’m not a businesswoman, I have no idea about business speak or financial talk, and I have no connections. I’m a copywriter for a lubrication firm who also cleans, and writes sexy stories for a sideline. I’m only here because a rich billionaire wants to fuck me, which I know is the truth, and I only agreed to come because I need the money I’m going to get from spying on him.
Actually, that’s not strictly true. I want to fuck him, too. He’s the most charismatic, sexy, fascinating man I’ve ever met, and the thought of going to bed with him is making me feel quite dizzy.
Paua of One breaks out into one of my favorite songs, but nobody cheers, all the suits seemingly oblivious to the fact that this is the most popular band in New Zealand at the moment. It only adds to my feeling of not belonging. At first I thought this place was fascinating, like going to England to see the King, but now I find it dull, full of people who only want to impress one another with their business acumen, and who seem to have no idea how to enjoy themselves.
My anxiety reaches a peak and explodes like a firework inside me. A few people are on the edge of the chessboard floor, bopping politely, but I ignore them, walk to the center facing the band, and begin to dance.
You only live once, and later I’m going to have to do something horrific that makes me quake every time I think about it. So right now I’m going to turn the dial up to eleven. And fuck them all.
*
I don’t know how long I dance for—ten minutes? Fifteen? I lose track. The song changes a few times and, caught up in the music, I forget where I am, forget about everything except the beat of the music, and the thought of Mack’s lips on mine.
It’s only when I grow thirsty that I make my way to the edge of the dance floor. As I return to the bar, I discover that the others are already back, and they cheer as I walk up. Mack, in the process of ordering drinks, turns and smiles at me.
“You look amazing out there,” Victoria says.
“Thank you.” I know I must look flushed and hot, but I don’t care. The beat is still pounding away, matching my pulse. I don’t want to stop dancing, but I desperately need a drink. I ask the bartender for a glass of water and drink it down in one, then take the G&T that Mack’s got for me.
Nobody else seems inclined to join the dance floor. “Anyway,” Titus says, continuing their conversation, “I’ve heard that Arctic have just beaten Flyer to third place.”
“They’re Finnish, aren’t they?” Elizabeth asks.
“Yeah,” Mack says. “Based in Kajaani. It’s the fastest and most efficient supercomputer in Europe.”
