of me. I hold my weaknesses in a tightly sealed box that even I don't want to open because of the shame.
"So, it's about your feelings too?"
"You should have been a psychologist," I say dryly, sipping my whiskey.
"Maybe," she smiles. "Why don't you want to get attached?"
"Because I have a busy life with lots of responsibilities and people who are relying on me. I don't have time for attachments or complex relationship politics. Women can be hard work, so casual sex suits my lifestyle."
"Mmm," she says, looking thoughtful. "Doesn't it get lonely?"
I shrug, brushing off her analysis, which is getting really close to the bone. "Not really. I have lots of friends and acquaintances and a work life that keeps me exceptionally busy."
"But no intimacy?"
"It's overrated," I say, thinking back to the last time I made love to Adrianna before I found out the truth. I'd looked down at her face as she came, and I remember the rush of love and adoration I felt, but it had been for nothing; a figment of my imagination born of my foolish trust.
Nicole takes a long drink and then gazes out of the window, her eyes following a tourist boat that is navigating the Thames. "You know, you're the first person I've had sex with outside of a committed relationship." Her eyes meet mine and then return to the view.
"I didn't know that," I say, happy at the knowledge and then annoyed at the way my mind is working. Nicole's previous sex life shouldn't matter to me either way if I'm sticking with the plan.
No emotions, no regrets.
The rule is foolproof.
"I don't think I'm cut out for one-night-stands," she says.
"Technically, it was twice."
"I don't think that makes a difference." It's her turn to shrug, her face impassive as she watches me.
"Why did you do it then, if it was so out of character?"
Nicole looks down at her hands that are rested on the table; delicate fingers tipped with French-manicured nails. I remembered how they looked when I tied her wrists, beautifully frail in their bindings.
She appears as though she's struggling with what to say next, but I find myself hoping she'll confide in me.
"I've been asking myself the same question. I've always tried to do things properly. My parents are childhood sweethearts, and they still love each other as much now as they did when they were sixteen. I always wanted to find what they have, so it's important to take things slowly. My first boyfriend was nice, but it didn't last. We went to different universities, and he called it off after a few months of trying to maintain a long-distance relationship. The second happened at uni, and it didn't work out. The last was someone I met through a work colleague. He turned out to be a…a bad apple."
I raise my eyebrows, wanting her to elaborate. Had he cheated, hit her, been abusive in some other way?
She continues. "I've done everything right, but nothing has worked out. I guess I just wanted to do something crazy for once. Something just for me, and not care about the consequences."
"But it wasn't what you wanted?"
She looks shy for a minute, a small smile playing at her pretty lips. "It was pretty great in some ways, but emotionally unfulfilling in others. After I left your apartment, I felt really empty. I don't think I could do it again, knowing that sex always comes at such a high price for me."
It's hard to hear about her vulnerabilities, not because I find them annoying as I usually do with women, but because I understand how black the hurt can be when relationships end. When you do things hoping they are going to make you feel good, but they end up making you feel worse. I'd lived the days after Adrianna trying to drown out the darkness I felt with alcohol and women, but the more I poured into myself, the emptier I was inside. "Everything comes with a price," I say solemnly.
"Sometimes, the price is worth it, but not always."
"So, if one-night stands aren't for you, does that mean you're going back to searching for a relationship?"
"I don't know. I just think it's best to avoid anything at the moment. I think I need to nurse my wounds until I feel stronger."
"Some wounds never heal, Nicole. You've just got to find a way of patching yourself up and getting on with it."
"Is that what you've done? Patched yourself up by sleeping your way through the