television.
Daria. Johnny felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Of course. Nicola reminded him of Daria. Why hadn’t he realised this before? They had in common that very appealing earnestness, not to mention honey-coloured skin and big guileless eyes.
Daria and he were only twenty and classmates when they started going out. Johnny had been one of those awkward teenagers who was bad at sports and who liked mathematics; the looks that would make him a handsome older man never sat right on a younger man’s face. Daria was the first girl he’d ever had sex with. Desperately in love with her, he was jealous of the fact that she’d had several lovers before him. When she got pregnant and insisted on an abortion, he was devastated. But she was eager to finish her course and, she insisted, too young to be a mother. He begged her to marry him, but her response was that maybe they shouldn’t see each other at all, for a while, anyway. Hurt and furious, he began sleeping with as many different women as he could. He’d show her. He showed her all right. She concluded she wasbetter off without him, met someone else, and began her life as an architect, wife and mother within six months of graduation.
Johnny tied the scarf around his neck. He sat on the lounge for a long while, lost in thought.
Nicola spent the short trip home stewing with fury, mortification and guilt. She asked the cabbie to drop her half a block from home. She wanted to compose herself before facing Fox. Checking her face in the mirror of her compact, she powdered her nose and re-applied her lippy. She took a few deep breaths and forced herself to smile.
‘Hello, honey.’ Fox greeted her at the door with a kiss and an appreciative once-over of her outfit from head to toe. He cocked his head at the sight of her feet. ‘I’ve never seen those shoes before. Very sexy.’
‘Yeah, I just got them.’ She spoke slowly, as though checking each word as it came out of her mouth to make sure she wasn’t really saying, ‘Johnny B. Wright gave them to me.And then he fucked me in them.’ She pivoted coquettishly to show them off. For all her anger with Johnny over his apparent coldness and insensitivity at the evening’s end, and her inescapable guilt, her whole body felt alive with pleasure.
‘And how was the launch?’
‘Great.’ She struggled to remember what she had told him. Eye shadow or lipstick? She hedged her bets. ‘Fab new-season colours.’
‘Speaking of colour, you’re looking a bit flushed. You all right?’ He laid the back of his hand against her forehead with concern.
Nicola squirmed away, sure that she had ‘The Wildest Sex of Her Life! and It Wasn’t with Her Partner!’ stamped all over her. ‘I’m, uh, I’m just feeling a little fluish or something. I don’t think it’s too serious. I probably just need some sleep,’ she said.
‘That’s such a sexy frock,’ Fox commented as she undressed for the shower. ‘Don’t you usually wear your silver scarf with it?’
Shit.
She’d left it at Johnny’s place. ‘Uh, I think I must have left it at work.’
Since when did you start working in the lion’s cage at Taronga, Fox wondered, silently observing the red scratch lines and bite marks on her belly, breasts and legs.
A week later, Nicola steeled herself, and dialled Johnny’s direct line at Wright Angles. It had taken a day or two for her to come to her senses. What her senses told her was that she’d got it right the first time around—with the rocksteady Fox. Meanwhile, Johnny had sent several more lush bouquets. She decided she had to put a stop to it. And she wanted her scarf back.
The phone rang only twice before he answered. ‘Yeah.’ Even his phone manner was arrogant.
‘Johnny.’
There was a pause on the other end.
‘It’s me.’
‘What are you wearing?’
‘Uh, Johnny.’
‘Under your clothes.’ His voice was bizarrely compelling.
She stood up and glanced over the partition. It was
Daria. Johnny felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Of course. Nicola reminded him of Daria. Why hadn’t he realised this before? They had in common that very appealing earnestness, not to mention honey-coloured skin and big guileless eyes.
Daria and he were only twenty and classmates when they started going out. Johnny had been one of those awkward teenagers who was bad at sports and who liked mathematics; the looks that would make him a handsome older man never sat right on a younger man’s face. Daria was the first girl he’d ever had sex with. Desperately in love with her, he was jealous of the fact that she’d had several lovers before him. When she got pregnant and insisted on an abortion, he was devastated. But she was eager to finish her course and, she insisted, too young to be a mother. He begged her to marry him, but her response was that maybe they shouldn’t see each other at all, for a while, anyway. Hurt and furious, he began sleeping with as many different women as he could. He’d show her. He showed her all right. She concluded she wasbetter off without him, met someone else, and began her life as an architect, wife and mother within six months of graduation.
Johnny tied the scarf around his neck. He sat on the lounge for a long while, lost in thought.
Nicola spent the short trip home stewing with fury, mortification and guilt. She asked the cabbie to drop her half a block from home. She wanted to compose herself before facing Fox. Checking her face in the mirror of her compact, she powdered her nose and re-applied her lippy. She took a few deep breaths and forced herself to smile.
‘Hello, honey.’ Fox greeted her at the door with a kiss and an appreciative once-over of her outfit from head to toe. He cocked his head at the sight of her feet. ‘I’ve never seen those shoes before. Very sexy.’
‘Yeah, I just got them.’ She spoke slowly, as though checking each word as it came out of her mouth to make sure she wasn’t really saying, ‘Johnny B. Wright gave them to me.And then he fucked me in them.’ She pivoted coquettishly to show them off. For all her anger with Johnny over his apparent coldness and insensitivity at the evening’s end, and her inescapable guilt, her whole body felt alive with pleasure.
‘And how was the launch?’
‘Great.’ She struggled to remember what she had told him. Eye shadow or lipstick? She hedged her bets. ‘Fab new-season colours.’
‘Speaking of colour, you’re looking a bit flushed. You all right?’ He laid the back of his hand against her forehead with concern.
Nicola squirmed away, sure that she had ‘The Wildest Sex of Her Life! and It Wasn’t with Her Partner!’ stamped all over her. ‘I’m, uh, I’m just feeling a little fluish or something. I don’t think it’s too serious. I probably just need some sleep,’ she said.
‘That’s such a sexy frock,’ Fox commented as she undressed for the shower. ‘Don’t you usually wear your silver scarf with it?’
Shit.
She’d left it at Johnny’s place. ‘Uh, I think I must have left it at work.’
Since when did you start working in the lion’s cage at Taronga, Fox wondered, silently observing the red scratch lines and bite marks on her belly, breasts and legs.
A week later, Nicola steeled herself, and dialled Johnny’s direct line at Wright Angles. It had taken a day or two for her to come to her senses. What her senses told her was that she’d got it right the first time around—with the rocksteady Fox. Meanwhile, Johnny had sent several more lush bouquets. She decided she had to put a stop to it. And she wanted her scarf back.
The phone rang only twice before he answered. ‘Yeah.’ Even his phone manner was arrogant.
‘Johnny.’
There was a pause on the other end.
‘It’s me.’
‘What are you wearing?’
‘Uh, Johnny.’
‘Under your clothes.’ His voice was bizarrely compelling.
She stood up and glanced over the partition. It was
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