me.’
He raised his eyebrow and shook his head. ‘Sometimes I think of you as so refreshingly quirky – but sometimes I think you're just odd. Come on, girl. Bed-time. And dear God, don't go walkabout tonight.’ He locked his front door and locked the key in his briefcase which had a combination code Petra didn't know.
But she did walk. A couple of hours after they'd fallen asleep she'd left the bed and walked into the wall where she thought there was a doorway as she assumed she was at her flat.
‘For fuck's sake,’ Rob said, not that Petra could hear him. He found her in his sitting room, standing stock-still. He turned her shoulders and gave her a little shove every few steps.
‘Petra, I can't be doing with this.’ She looked at him directly, her eyes vacant though she spoke at him.
‘I know what you mean,’ she said flatly.
‘I doubt it,’ Rob said back though he knew they weren't conversing.
‘But I wouldn't agree with you about Gordon Brown.’
She made to turn back to the sitting room but he steered her to the bedroom and she lay down without a murmur.
‘Sorry, babe,’ he said, ‘but I'm fucking knackered.’ And he took a tie from his cupboard, binding it around her wrist and securing it to the bedpost.
Chapter Six
Petra's knee healed faster than the blisters so she continued to wear her Birkenstock sandals with socks to the studio all week, and still had to wear her pop socks and slippers when she saw Rob a couple of evenings later. I'm wearing pop socks again, she advised him, so if you want to do unmentionably rude things to me, can you give me warning so I can take them off first. Rob had called her a little hussy – much to her delight. And in the event, she left her socks on and they had sex energetically while he slapped her buttocks and called her a naughty naughty girl. When she woke the next morning, though her buttocks felt decidedly tingly it was her left wrist which felt really sore and when she looked at it, it was red; scorched like a burn. She showed it to Rob who'd said, Don't you remember me pinning you down as I rogered you senseless? However Petra couldn't remember, precisely. But the sex had been kinky and mostly in the dark and perhaps all that spanking had distracted her, so maybe he had. As she showered, she did quietly consider how, as good as they were at sex, it would be nice if she and Rob could be a little better at the bits in between. But she quickly washed away the notion that, quite possibly, it was beyond Rob's natural personality to loll about chatting idly, or to hold hands whilst walking, or to make love rather than always fuck.
‘Petra, what have you done to your wrist?’ Gina asked her in the studio.
Petra pulled her sleeve down but gave Gina and Kitty and Eric a saucy lick of her lips. ‘Rob's a bit of a tiger,’ she giggled, sashaying out to the toilet.
‘He's a bit of a prat,’ Eric said dryly when Petra was out of earshot.
‘He's a lot of a prat,’ Gina defined.
‘I don't like it,’ Kitty said darkly. ‘Petra is naturally gentle – physically and emotionally. I'm sorry, but I don't like to think of someone being rough with her.’
‘She can look after herself,’ Eric snapped because actually he wished he'd come out with Kitty's insight.
‘No, Eric. I can look after myself,’ Kitty said. ‘Petra was born someone to be made love to – I'm someone born to fuck.’
Gina giggled. ‘Kitty, you are outrageous. You're putting me off my work.’
Kitty shrugged, her skeins of blue-black hair snaking around her shoulders like a latter-day Medusa. ‘Sorry, Gina,’ she said, ‘but I do have authority to speak. I've had more sex with more people than all the hyphens in the double-barrelled surnames in your street.’
Gina giggled again. ‘Rob is a prat – but it's not for us to say so. Anyway, Petra is very fond of him. And she's really set on making this relationship last.’
‘Even if it doesn't necessarily work,’ Eric sighed.
He raised his eyebrow and shook his head. ‘Sometimes I think of you as so refreshingly quirky – but sometimes I think you're just odd. Come on, girl. Bed-time. And dear God, don't go walkabout tonight.’ He locked his front door and locked the key in his briefcase which had a combination code Petra didn't know.
But she did walk. A couple of hours after they'd fallen asleep she'd left the bed and walked into the wall where she thought there was a doorway as she assumed she was at her flat.
‘For fuck's sake,’ Rob said, not that Petra could hear him. He found her in his sitting room, standing stock-still. He turned her shoulders and gave her a little shove every few steps.
‘Petra, I can't be doing with this.’ She looked at him directly, her eyes vacant though she spoke at him.
‘I know what you mean,’ she said flatly.
‘I doubt it,’ Rob said back though he knew they weren't conversing.
‘But I wouldn't agree with you about Gordon Brown.’
She made to turn back to the sitting room but he steered her to the bedroom and she lay down without a murmur.
‘Sorry, babe,’ he said, ‘but I'm fucking knackered.’ And he took a tie from his cupboard, binding it around her wrist and securing it to the bedpost.
Chapter Six
Petra's knee healed faster than the blisters so she continued to wear her Birkenstock sandals with socks to the studio all week, and still had to wear her pop socks and slippers when she saw Rob a couple of evenings later. I'm wearing pop socks again, she advised him, so if you want to do unmentionably rude things to me, can you give me warning so I can take them off first. Rob had called her a little hussy – much to her delight. And in the event, she left her socks on and they had sex energetically while he slapped her buttocks and called her a naughty naughty girl. When she woke the next morning, though her buttocks felt decidedly tingly it was her left wrist which felt really sore and when she looked at it, it was red; scorched like a burn. She showed it to Rob who'd said, Don't you remember me pinning you down as I rogered you senseless? However Petra couldn't remember, precisely. But the sex had been kinky and mostly in the dark and perhaps all that spanking had distracted her, so maybe he had. As she showered, she did quietly consider how, as good as they were at sex, it would be nice if she and Rob could be a little better at the bits in between. But she quickly washed away the notion that, quite possibly, it was beyond Rob's natural personality to loll about chatting idly, or to hold hands whilst walking, or to make love rather than always fuck.
‘Petra, what have you done to your wrist?’ Gina asked her in the studio.
Petra pulled her sleeve down but gave Gina and Kitty and Eric a saucy lick of her lips. ‘Rob's a bit of a tiger,’ she giggled, sashaying out to the toilet.
‘He's a bit of a prat,’ Eric said dryly when Petra was out of earshot.
‘He's a lot of a prat,’ Gina defined.
‘I don't like it,’ Kitty said darkly. ‘Petra is naturally gentle – physically and emotionally. I'm sorry, but I don't like to think of someone being rough with her.’
‘She can look after herself,’ Eric snapped because actually he wished he'd come out with Kitty's insight.
‘No, Eric. I can look after myself,’ Kitty said. ‘Petra was born someone to be made love to – I'm someone born to fuck.’
Gina giggled. ‘Kitty, you are outrageous. You're putting me off my work.’
Kitty shrugged, her skeins of blue-black hair snaking around her shoulders like a latter-day Medusa. ‘Sorry, Gina,’ she said, ‘but I do have authority to speak. I've had more sex with more people than all the hyphens in the double-barrelled surnames in your street.’
Gina giggled again. ‘Rob is a prat – but it's not for us to say so. Anyway, Petra is very fond of him. And she's really set on making this relationship last.’
‘Even if it doesn't necessarily work,’ Eric sighed.
Similar Books
