Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [131]
‘Come on.’ He stood up and tugged gently at her hand. Something was telling her that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
‘But the film…’
‘I’ve seen it before.’
No kidding.
Shyness wrestled with curiosity, attraction fought with fear of intimacy. She wanted to sleep with him and yet she didn’t, but his urgent need was compelling. She found herself on her feet. A kiss went some way to persuading her, and she was in his bedroom. It wasn’t a fluid dance where fumbling disappeared and clothes dissolved without clumsiness. He hadn’t been able to get the hang of unhooking her bra, and when she saw how large his erection seemed in the narrowness of his hips, she had to look away. She trembled like a terrified virgin.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m shy.’
‘So it’s not because of me?’
‘Oh no.’ His vulnerability made her try harder. She gathered him to her, which had the double effect of pleasing him and ensuring she no longer had to see his hardness springing from its nest of hair.
The sheets were fresh, the candles a surprising touch, he was thoughtful and attentive and never once remarked on her absence of waist, but she had to admit that no, she wasn’t entirely transported. However, he was very appreciative, and she enjoyed that. It certainly wasn’t the worst sexual experience she’d ever had. And the best sex had always been slightly unreal, usually taking place during making up with Phelim, when the joy of being reunited added an extra piquancy to an already compatible experience.
She was a big girl now and expecting the earth to move was unrealistic. Anyway, the first time she’d had sex with Phelim it hadn’t set the world on fire either.
38
On Sunday morning Clodagh woke, perched precariously on the six inches at the edge of the bed. Craig had shunted her to the margin of the bed, but it could quite easily have been Molly or both of them. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Dylan had slept unchaperoned, and she was so well practised at sleeping hanging over the side that she was sure she could manage a great night’s sleep on the edge of a cliff, at this stage.
Something was telling her it was very early. Five o’clock early. The sun was up and the gap where the calico curtains didn’t quite meet glowed in a line of acid-bright light, but she knew it was too soon to be awake. The unseen seagulls beyond her window wailed shrill and plaintive. They sounded like babies from a horror film. Beside Craig, Dylan slept heavily, his limbs thrown across the bed in a random tangle, his breath whistling rhythmically in and out, each exhalation lifting his hair from his forehead.
Despondency lay heavy upon her. She’d had a bad week. After the disaster with the employment agency, Ashling had urged her to get a second opinion. So she’d put her expensive suit back on and tried again. The second employment agency treated her with almost as much disdain as the first had. But to her enormous surprise, the third proposed sending her for a two-day trial, making tea and answering the phone at a radiator-supply firm. ‘The pay is… modest,’ the recruitment man had admitted, ‘but for someone like you who’s been out of the workplace for a long time, it’s a good start. They’re bound to love you, so off you go. Good luck!’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ As soon as Clodagh knew she might have a job, she didn’t want it. Making tea and answering the phone, where was the fun in that? She did it at home all the time. And a radiator-supply firm? It sounded so dreary. In a strange way, getting a job and then finding she didn’t want it was almost worse than being told she was unemployable. Though not much given to introspection, she vaguely realized that she wasn’t actually looking for a job – she certainly didn’t need the money – she was looking for glamour and excitement. And the reality was she wasn’t going to find them at a radiator-supply firm.
So she rang Mr Recruitment