I drink the water slowly, yet still Lukas hasn’t arrived by the time I finish the first glass. I pour myself another as I look again at the clock on my phone. He’s very late now, and there’re still no messages. I sip my drink and rearrange my dress. I wonder what’s holding him up. I wish I were wearing my own clothes.
A moment later I realize there’s somebody behind me, leaning on the bar. I can’t see him but I know it’s a man – there’s a solidity to him, the space he occupies he does so confidently. Lukas, I think. I begin to smile as I turn, but I’m disappointed. It’s not him. This man is larger than Lukas; he’s wearing a grey suit, holding a glass of beer. He’s alone, or appears to be. He turns and smiles at me. It’s obvious, unsubtle and I’m not used to it. Yet it’s flattering. He’s young, attractive, with a beard, a strong jaw, a nose that’s been broken. I smile back, because it would be rude not to, and look away.
He must take my smile as an invitation. He turns his body to face me, says, ‘How’re you?’
‘I’m fine.’ I think of Lukas, resist the temptation to tell him I’m waiting for someone. ‘Thanks.’
His face opens. He grins, says, ‘D’you mind?’ He’s indicating the empty seat between us but before I can tell him I’m saving it for someone he’s already sitting down. I’m irritated, but only mildly so.
‘I’m David.’ He shakes my hand. His palms have a roughness not suggested by his clothes. I see his eyes sweep my body, travel from my neck, to my arms, to my ringless finger. It’s only when they come to rest once again on my face that I realize he’s still holding my hand.
I’m impatient. It’s Lukas I want to be holding. His flesh, not this man’s.
But he isn’t here, and I’m annoyed, even if I don’t want to admit it.
‘I’m Jayne,’ I say.
‘You’re alone?’
A breeze caresses the back of my neck. I think of Hugh first, and then Lukas.
‘For now,’ I say.
‘Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Jayne,’ he says. He holds my gaze. He’s reaching inside me. It’s an offer, a proposition. I’m under no illusions, I know it’s because of the clothes I’m wearing. I might not have even noticed it a few months ago; Lukas has sensitized me to it.
But I don’t feel the same thrill that I did when I met Lukas – the thrill of being desired but also of feeling desire. This time it’s slightly uncomfortable. Again I think of telling him I’m waiting for someone, or that I’m married, but for some reason I don’t. That would be hiding behind a man. You can’t have me, because I’m promised to another. It would make me weak. He shifts his weight on the stool so that his right knee is close enough to brush against my left and I get a sudden thrill, so intense it shocks me.
‘Likewise,’ I say. He asks me whether I’m staying in the hotel, whether I’m here on business. I say no. I don’t want to lead him on.
‘How about you?’ I say.
‘Oh, I’m in finance,’ he says. ‘It’s very boring.’
‘Travelling?’
‘Yes. I live in Washington DC.’
‘Really?’ I say.
He nods. ‘What’re you having?’
‘I have a drink already,’ I say. There’s a look of mock-disappointment on his face. I smile, then glance at the time on my phone. Lukas is late and hasn’t sent a further message.
‘Then I’ll have the same.’
There’s a swell and fizz as the drink is poured. We chink glasses, but I don’t drink. Dimly, I’m aware of how this will look when Lukas arrives, which surely can’t be long now. It pleases me. I’d rather this than he sees me alone, desperate, waiting for him.
Yet at the same time I wonder how easy this guy – David – will be to get rid of.
‘So,’ he says, ‘tell me about you. Where are you from?’
‘Me? Nowhere, in particular.’ He looks confused, and I smile. I won’t tell him the truth, but neither do I want to make anything up. ‘I moved around a lot as a child.’
‘D’you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘No,’ I say. I don’t want Kate in the room. ‘It was just me.’
I look up, into his eyes. They’re wide; the expression of sincerity on his face is so perfect it can only be fake. I realize we’re sitting close. His hand is resting on his thigh, his knee still pressed against mine. It’s intensely sexual. The room seems to be tipping, off balance. Something is very wrong.
‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘I think I’ll just use the Ladies.’
I stand. I’m unsteady. It’s as if I really have been drinking, rather than just bringing it to my lips and putting it down again. In the bathroom I look at myself in the mirror, trying to reclaim the confidence I felt earlier, but I can’t. Julia is returning; she’s just wearing someone else’s clothes.
I take out my phone, dial Lukas; there’s no answer so I leave him a message. I splash water on my face, take a few deep breaths and gather myself.
When I return David is still sitting on the stool, still leaning against the bar. He watches me approach. He smiles. His legs are spread – to balance himself, I suppose, though I wonder if he’s also offering himself in some primitive, animal way. I take my seat.
He smiles, lowers his voice, leans forward. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me, but he says, ‘I thought we could take this upstairs. Somewhere more private?’
I can’t help it. There’s a tingle, an excitement. I realize I like the thought of Lukas being upset by me wanting someone else. Yet he doesn’t know, and fear is also flooding in. This isn’t what I came here for. This isn’t supposed to happen. This man looks strong. He’s not someone I could fend off, even if I had to. Plus, we’re in public and I don’t want to cause a scene. I play for time.
‘Here?’ I say. ‘In the hotel?’ He nods. I tell myself to concentrate. ‘I’m sorry,’ I begin, ‘but …’
I shrug, but he doesn’t stop smiling. I think of the girls at school, and what the boys called them when they didn’t go as far as they’d unwittingly promised. ‘Cock-teasers’, they said.
He doesn’t seem to get the message. He puts his hand on my knee, moves it a fraction up, towards my thigh. He leans forward. I can smell him, pepper and wood, leathery, like old books. He begins to stroke the inside of my wrist. I know he’s going to try and kiss me, that in a moment he’ll close his eyes and open his mouth, just slightly, and I’ll be expected to do the same.
I cough, and look towards the bar. He touches my arm. There’s another tiny crackle of static.
He whispers. ‘I know who you are,’ he says, as if he’s read my mind. He smiles, baring his teeth, as if he’s growling. He’s still stroking my skin.
I look at his lips, his dark skin, the faint shadow of stubble that he’s probably never quite without. ‘What—?’ I say, as panic begins to gather within me.
‘Kiss me.’
I begin to shake my head. I try to smile, to look confident, but I can’t, I’m not. I can’t believe what’s happening. Without thinking I reach for the glass of champagne.
Ride it out, ride it out, ride it out.
‘I—’ I begin, but he interrupts me again.
‘Kiss me.’
I turn my head away from him and wrest my hand from his. I start to speak, to protest. We’re in public, I want to say. Leave me alone; but my words tumble and fall. His mouth is inches away from mine; I can smell alcohol, and beneath it is something stale. Garlic, perhaps. Where’s Lukas? I think. I need him. I want him.
I look over my shoulder. The crowd has thinned out even further; the few guests that remain are engrossed in their own conversations. No one has noticed what’s going on, or else they’ve chosen to ignore it.
‘How much?’ he says. I gasp, a little grunt of horror, but he just shrugs. It’s as if the answer to his question concerns him as little as do my protests.
‘How much?’ he says again. ‘That’s all I’m asking. Name your price.’
My price? My mind races. This man thinks I’ll sell myself, we just have to negotiate a price.
‘You’ve got it wrong.’ My voice is unsteady now. Slurred not with alcohol but with dread.
‘Have I?’ He moves his hand further up my thigh; his thumb, his fingers, are underneath the hem of my skirt. Distantly, as if from a great height, I wonder why I haven’t moved away. I imagine the whole room watching; somehow everyone knows what he’s doing, can see that I’m not stopping him. I glance towards the nearest table: the couple sitting at it have halted their conversation to sip their drinks; the man behind them is speaking into his phone. No one has noticed us. No one is looking.