That Gallagher Girl by Kate Thompson Page B

composed the email to Leo, telling him that she wanted a break.
    It would come as no surprise to him. Their relationship had taken a hiding since his wife had happened upon them having dinner à deux in the Trocadero. Keeley was convinced she’d been set up. The memory of that evening had the power to make her break into a cold sweat every time she thought about it . . .
    â€˜What are you wearing under that plain – but clearly very chic – little black dress?’ Leo had asked conversationally, as he refilled her wineglass. ‘Anything interesting?’
    â€˜Yes, actually,’ replied Keeley, taking a sip of wine. ‘I’m wearing that very pretty Stella McCartney bra and panties set you bought for me in Agent Provocateur.’
    â€˜The black lace ones?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Suspenders or hold-ups?’
    â€˜Hold-ups.’
    â€˜Lace topped?’
    â€˜But of course.’
    Leo gave her a debonair smile. ‘I have another present for you, Ms Considine.’
    â€˜How kind! It’s not even my birthday!’
    â€˜It’s your un-birthday, as per Lewis Carroll’s neologism. Many happy returns.’
    Leaning down, Leo had produced a small giftwrapped box from his attaché case. Keeley recognised the wrapping paper immediately. The gift was from Coco de Mer in Covent Garden, the sexiest shop in the world.
    She looked down at it as he placed it on the table, then looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. ‘Dare I open it in a public place?’ she asked.
    â€˜You may. The box is very discreet.’
    Unloosening the ribbon, Keeley peeled away the giftwrap and folded it carefully: Coco de Mer giftwrap was far too pretty to waste. Beneath was an elegant black box, that was – as Keeley saw when she raised the lid – lined with silk. Nestling in the silk were two perfectly smooth egg-shaped stones, one of jade, one of obsidian.
    â€˜Love eggs?’ she said.
    â€˜Well deduced. Concubines used them in ancient China.’
    â€˜What a very, very thoughtful present,’ said Keeley, slanting Leo a smile. ‘My pelvic floor muscles could do with a thorough workout.’
    â€˜Why not give them a go?’
    â€˜Now?’
    â€˜Yes. Isn’t it time you powdered your nose?’
    â€˜You’re absolutely right. I’m all aglow.’
    Sending Leo another oblique smile, Keeley unfurled herself from the banquette and slid the box into her handbag.
    â€˜One moment, sweetheart.’ The skin on her forearm where he touched her sang.
    â€˜Yes?’
    His voice was so low, she had to stoop a little to hear him.
    â€˜Leave your panties off.’
    â€˜That goes without saying, chéri .’
    And Keeley turned and sashayed in the direction of the loo, knowing that Leo’s eyes were following her every step of the way. In the cubicle, she stripped off her panties, slipped them into her handbag, took the love eggs from their satin-lined box, and inserted them. One. Oh! Two. Oh! The jade and obsidian felt delicious, cool and smooth against her warm flesh, and Keeley felt anticipation surge through her when she thought of the treat in store for her later. And for Leo, too. She’d bought him a silver cock ring last time she was in London.
    In the boudoir of the ladies room, she reapplied her lipstick and spritzed herself with a little scent. Her reflection regarded her from the mirror, a half smile playing around her lips, the pupils of her eyes dilated, a flush high on her cheeks that was not courtesy of Clinique. Dear God , she was horny! There would be no dessert this evening, that was for sure. Not in the restaurant, anyway. She had Häagen Dazs Dulce de Leche at home, and fresh Egyptian cotton sheets just begging to be laundered again tomorrow. Keeley squirted Neal’s Yard Lime and Lemongrass onto her tongue, tousled her hair a little, and left the ladies room, Chanel No. 5 wafting in her wake, walking tall and