Page 125 of Callan

“Mackenzie?”

“The wall…”

“Okay.”

“That might be nice. I’ve never done that.”

“Noted.”

“And maybe me being bent over the table.”

He laughs.

“Or your desk.”

“You saw that somewhere? Or have you read about it?”

“I imagined it…with you.”

“You’re fucking with me?”

“I wish. If it doesn’t work for you, I can––”

He squeezes my hand harder.

“Shut up, baby.”

He’s firm, yet he’s smiling.

“So no other men…” I murmur to his delight.

“No other men. You tell me when you’re ready.”

Oh, my eyes soften.

Am I ready? To sleep with him?

Yes. Yes, I am.

I only need to get ready for the ending of our story, which will naturally come. And I don’t think I am.

Reading my eyes, he’s getting my answer.

Whatever it may be in his interpretation, I can say from how he pushes his chair back, rises from his seat, and signals to the hostess to bring our coats that having sex with him might happen sooner than I think.

He holds the coat for me before draping his over his broad shoulders and then taking my hand.

“We’ll spend the rest of the evening together and talk more,” he says, and my heart sings.

Soon after, we exit the tea house.

He hauls a taxi, and we head to the club, his car still parked near the park.

20

CALLAN

My phone vibratesin my pocket, alerting me to new messages––I assume.

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