“Hang on, is she the cat lady?” Coop rises from his chair.

“Yes.”

“Ben! Fuck. I saw the look on your face when you texted her. You’re falling for her again.”

“No! That’s not what this is.” I protest but somehow it doesn’t really feel true to me either.

“How is it, then?” he challenges me.

“It… she asked me to show her what it means to be with a pleasure dom.”

“You’re kidding me?” Coop looks stunned.

“No—”

“Tell me you said no!”

“Coop—”

“Ben! For fuck’s sake. What are you doing?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me finish a bloody sentence,” I raise my voice and square up to him.

Coop inhales deeply before taking a seat.

As I recap what happened, of course leaving out the phone sex, he keeps shaking his head.

“I think this is bonkers, Ben,” he sighs when I finish my story.

“I know. But I couldn’t say no to her. If I can help her with this I will.”

“And what happens if she walks away again at the end?”

“I… I’ll let her go of course.” But I can hear the uncertainty in my voice.

“Don’t hurt her, Ben!”

“I’m not the same man, Coop. I’d give her anything she asks for. I think that makes me much more likely to get hurt.” As I say it out loud I know it’s true. There is no point in fighting it. I need to admit the truth to myself: when she stood in front of me in the restaurant my old feelings came roaring back to me. I would have given anything to hold her in my arms.

“Fucking hell. This is madness. I’m worried for you, and for her.”

“I know,” I reply. We stare at each other. Before either one of us can say anything else Gladys sticks her head into the office to get Coop who is late for a meeting.

After he leaves, my fingers casually glide over my phone. As the screen springs alive I click on the dating app. Amelia’s profile is the first one on my list. I take a couple of screenshots of it then press the little red cross.

I hit yes and follow the final steps. That’s it. As long as Amelia is around there isn’t going to be anyone else.

12

Bleeding Love

Amelia

Samira taps her watch. That’s my ten-minute warning to get my shit together because we are heading out for lunch. A new Brazilian street food stand has opened around the corner and we want to give it a try.

I open the attachment to an email from the finance team. It’s an invoice for my approval. I quickly scan over the page. The logo doesn’t look familiar. When I get to the description of services I stop. Analysis of the security situation in Balochistan. I didn’t order that.

“That, that—” I blow out hard because I can’t find a word that is appropriate for the open plan office. My outburst draws Samira’s attention.

“Everything okay?”

“Richard,” I hiss. Samira rolls her eyes but doesn’t ask for details. She knows that whatever he’s done I am most likely in the right.

I can’t believe he just went ahead and ordered an analysis. I told him no. But not with me my friend, not with me. I hit the reply button on the email.

I grin to myself and grab my handbag. Now I deserve a nice lunch.

“Oh, fuck this is amazing,” I moan taking another bite of my sandwich.

“I see dark times ahead for our bank accounts,” Samira grins. I can only nod as I devour another piece of the chicken delight.

“So, are you ever going to tell me about your date with the pleasure dom?” So far I have managed to dodge her questions not only because I still blush when I think of the phone call, but also because I don’t want to relive Ben and my past. As luck has had it, she was on annual leave until now which offered me some reprieve. I should have known that I wouldn’t get away with it forever.

“Not much to say,” I shrug. Liar!

“Well, so far all I know from your very cryptic message is that it’s someone you know from your youth.”

“We dated in our twenties.” I mumble before stuffing my mouth with more bread. Samira stops chewing and stares at me.

“And he didn’t tell you before you met?” Her eyes narrow.

“No, he… well, our relationship didn’t end well and he wanted an opportunity to talk to me. He knew I wouldn’t turn up if he’d told me who he was.”

“And? Oh my god, don’t make me drag every crumb of information out of you.”

“And… we chatted. We talked about what happened. He apologised. And that was it. Kind of.”

“Kind of? There’s more?”

“No—”

“Amelia,” a familiar voice interrupts me. Miranda waves from across the street before looking left and right and quickly crossing. Oh, great!

“Hey,” I greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Miranda, you remember Samira?”