I murmured.
“Who
would?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about my book. I find that I become so engrossed in my work that ... I suppose I almost become the character I'm writing about. It's a strange feeling.”
“Yes, it must be,” he grinned, making himself at home by plonking himself in the armchair. “Particularly if it's a man.”
“No, no. She's a young woman. Crystal, a photographic model.”
“And she would have asked me to leave?”
“She wouldn't like anyone turning up unannounced. She leads a busy life and couldn't have people arriving at her flat out of the blue. She wouldn't have been rude, though. She'd have explained that ...”
“You really have got into this character, haven't you?”
“I seem to have done,” I laughed. “It's never been like this before. I've always been removed from the characters but, with Crystal ... Perhaps I see myself reflected in her.”
“That's interesting. What's she like?”
“Funnily enough, she's not at all like me.” Did I want to be like her? “She's very attractive, for starters.”
“And so are you, Jade.”
“If only. She's got money, she's successful and ... I won't bore you. I'll go and put the kettle on.”
55
Leaving the room, I realized that I couldn't get Crystal out of my mind. The more I thought about her, the better I knew her. She seemed so real, and I wondered whom I'd based her character on. It certainly wasn't me! Perhaps, subconsciously, I'd based her on someone I'd once known. But I couldn't for the life of me think who.
Maybe this was a sign that the book was working, I mused as I made the coffee. Did Crystal masturbate? Yes, she did. She had no qualms about her sexuality, or deriving pleasure from her naked body.
“What would Crystal do in this situation?” Alan asked as I placed the cups on the lounge table.
“How do you mean?” I said, pondering on my knee-length skirt. Crystal wore miniskirts.
“Alone here with me. OK, she'd have sent me packing but, now that I'm here, how would she react?”
“Crystal's dominant. She takes what she wants. If she wanted sex, she'd drag you into bed. Once satisfied, she'd spit you out. She's refined, ladylike, attractive, sensual ... She's also an animal in the bedroom. A man eater.”
“Quite a woman,” he chuckled.
“She certainly is.”
“Would she fall in love?”
Fall in love? No, that wasn't her style at all. Monogamy wasn't possible for one such as Crystal. She chose her partners not only for their sexual prowess, but for what they had to offer. She liked to be wined and dined, showered with gifts - and 56
then spend the night entwined in lust. She was a hunter. Men were her prey. Had I based her on Jackie?
“No, I wouldn't fall in love,” I finally replied abstractly.
“ You ?” he echoed. “ You wouldn’t fall in love?”
“I mean, Crystal,” I grinned sheepishly. “She wouldn't fall in love.”
“Sounds like you're going through an identity crisis.”
“As I said, I become engrossed in my work.”
“To the point where you actually become the character?”
“No, no. I ... I'm my own person, Alan. Crystal is a fictitious character in my book, nothing more.”
“Who are we, really? What are we? Perhaps we're all figments of our imaginations.”
“How do you mean?”
“Perhaps we act out our fantasies to the point where we become fantasy characters. As they say, you are what you think you are.”
“What do you think you are?”
“Lost, I suppose. I drift around wasting my time with this and that while life passes me by.”
“Like a ship. What about your music?”
“I suppose my music has shaped me. I try to come across as a Bohemian, but it's not the real me. I have no idea what the real me is. The inner man, and all that.
Who are you?”
“I'm ... I'm just plain and simple old me. Have your coffee before it gets cold.”
57
Alan's philosophical ramblings made me feel uncomfortable. The real me? I didn't want to
“Who
would?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about my book. I find that I become so engrossed in my work that ... I suppose I almost become the character I'm writing about. It's a strange feeling.”
“Yes, it must be,” he grinned, making himself at home by plonking himself in the armchair. “Particularly if it's a man.”
“No, no. She's a young woman. Crystal, a photographic model.”
“And she would have asked me to leave?”
“She wouldn't like anyone turning up unannounced. She leads a busy life and couldn't have people arriving at her flat out of the blue. She wouldn't have been rude, though. She'd have explained that ...”
“You really have got into this character, haven't you?”
“I seem to have done,” I laughed. “It's never been like this before. I've always been removed from the characters but, with Crystal ... Perhaps I see myself reflected in her.”
“That's interesting. What's she like?”
“Funnily enough, she's not at all like me.” Did I want to be like her? “She's very attractive, for starters.”
“And so are you, Jade.”
“If only. She's got money, she's successful and ... I won't bore you. I'll go and put the kettle on.”
55
Leaving the room, I realized that I couldn't get Crystal out of my mind. The more I thought about her, the better I knew her. She seemed so real, and I wondered whom I'd based her character on. It certainly wasn't me! Perhaps, subconsciously, I'd based her on someone I'd once known. But I couldn't for the life of me think who.
Maybe this was a sign that the book was working, I mused as I made the coffee. Did Crystal masturbate? Yes, she did. She had no qualms about her sexuality, or deriving pleasure from her naked body.
“What would Crystal do in this situation?” Alan asked as I placed the cups on the lounge table.
“How do you mean?” I said, pondering on my knee-length skirt. Crystal wore miniskirts.
“Alone here with me. OK, she'd have sent me packing but, now that I'm here, how would she react?”
“Crystal's dominant. She takes what she wants. If she wanted sex, she'd drag you into bed. Once satisfied, she'd spit you out. She's refined, ladylike, attractive, sensual ... She's also an animal in the bedroom. A man eater.”
“Quite a woman,” he chuckled.
“She certainly is.”
“Would she fall in love?”
Fall in love? No, that wasn't her style at all. Monogamy wasn't possible for one such as Crystal. She chose her partners not only for their sexual prowess, but for what they had to offer. She liked to be wined and dined, showered with gifts - and 56
then spend the night entwined in lust. She was a hunter. Men were her prey. Had I based her on Jackie?
“No, I wouldn't fall in love,” I finally replied abstractly.
“ You ?” he echoed. “ You wouldn’t fall in love?”
“I mean, Crystal,” I grinned sheepishly. “She wouldn't fall in love.”
“Sounds like you're going through an identity crisis.”
“As I said, I become engrossed in my work.”
“To the point where you actually become the character?”
“No, no. I ... I'm my own person, Alan. Crystal is a fictitious character in my book, nothing more.”
“Who are we, really? What are we? Perhaps we're all figments of our imaginations.”
“How do you mean?”
“Perhaps we act out our fantasies to the point where we become fantasy characters. As they say, you are what you think you are.”
“What do you think you are?”
“Lost, I suppose. I drift around wasting my time with this and that while life passes me by.”
“Like a ship. What about your music?”
“I suppose my music has shaped me. I try to come across as a Bohemian, but it's not the real me. I have no idea what the real me is. The inner man, and all that.
Who are you?”
“I'm ... I'm just plain and simple old me. Have your coffee before it gets cold.”
57
Alan's philosophical ramblings made me feel uncomfortable. The real me? I didn't want to
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