from behind my head.
Huh? What was he doing there? Something was still tickling my feet and his arms couldn’t reach that far. Could they? I twisted my wrists together to see if I could release them but the strap was too tight.
‘Rory? Rory? What’s going on? Rory?’ The dark was now freaking me out.
He knelt on the bed and untied my wrists; I instantly pulled the blindfold off.
Oh no.
Really, really no.
No, no, no.
No.
It was Marmalade lying at my feet, flexing his tail back and forth against them. I felt sick. I felt like one of those perverts you read about in weird magazines who marry their pets. I felt like Catherine the Great who died shagging her horse. I felt furious.
‘RORY? Are you kidding me?’
He realized what I meant and shook his head quickly. ‘Oh no! It was your make-up brush, I promise, I wasn’t using him. It was your make-up brush, and then I got up to strip, and by the time I’d done that he was rubbing himself against your feet. Look.’ He reached to the carpet and picked up my bronzer brush, then leant forward and ran it up my chest. I was suddenly a lot less into it.
‘Stop, no more,’ I said grumpily, pushing him off. I was done with today. I wanted to go to sleep.
Rory dropped the brush on the floor and scooped up Marmalade. ‘Come on, boy,’ he said, taking him to my bedroom door and shutting him out.
He came back to bed and although I still felt silly, it took him all of three minutes before he’d seduced me all over again. He was insatiable. But also extremely inventive. I didn’t recall James Bond ever using a bronzer brush as a sex toy.
What time was it? What year was it? What was my name? I woke the next morning with a start, confused by the bright light running around the edges of my window blind. I rolled on to my side and looked at my clock. Shit. It was nearly nine. I’d overslept, and I needed to be in the shop in less than half an hour to put up my trestle table.
I stepped out of bed, saw the blindfold on the carpet and winced. Poor Marmalade. As the needles of hot water hit my neck, I stood with my head hanging, wishing it could purify my soul. I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
I got out of the shower and dressed while Rory lay flat on his stomach, still asleep. Lucky, I thought, because I didn’t have the strength for a morning session. Back in the bathroom, I rubbed my face with moisturizer and slicked on a coat of mascara. I needed a coffee but I’d have to get one on the way. I didn’t have time to dally in the kitchen.
I arrived at the shop fifteen minutes before opening.
‘MORNING, I’M HERE,’ I said, bursting in.
Jaz was sitting on the counter in a huge leopard print coat, her purple ankle boots dangling beneath her. ‘Hi, how did you get in?’ I asked, panting.
She frowned. ‘Did you get the Tube like that?’
‘Why?’
She reached into her bag and handed me a compact mirror. Ah. Beneath my eyebrows were thick black smudges of mascara. ‘Shit,’ I said, licking my index finger and rubbing at them. ‘Jaz, they won’t come off. Help! Why won’t they come off?’
She reached into her bag again and brought out a packet of wipes. ‘Stand still,’ she said, dabbing at my face with one. ‘Why so late? It’s unlike you.’
I sighed and Jaz winced, turning her face away at my breath.
‘Sorry, had some red wine. And then Rory made me have sex with my bronzer brush.’
‘WHAT?’ she shouted.
‘WHAT?’ said Zach, appearing at the top of the stairs.
I closed my eyes. This morning was bad. So bad.
‘Florence Fairfax?’ said Jaz.
‘Yes?’ I squeaked, opening my eyes.
‘What are you talking about?’
I glanced at the clock over the till. ‘OK, Jaz, I’ll tell you while we put the table up outside. Zach, you didn’t hear that.’
‘I certainly did hear that,’ he said. ‘And nice of you to join us. Luckily, I got here early and found poor Jaz loitering outside the door with Dunc.’
‘Dunc! Where’s he?’
‘Downstairs in the kids’ section,’ said Zach.
As Jaz and I carried the trestle table upstairs, I explained the previous night in more detail, although I left the part about the blindfold and the bronzer brush until we were outside so Zach couldn’t eavesdrop. At least the forecast