I roll my eyes. “You wouldn’t?”
“I bloody would. I didn’t book us separate rooms for nothing. Do you know how long it’s been since I had sex?” She says the word sex like a whisper and a mumble.
I wave my glass around while I chew down another chocolate. I’ll definitely need the antacids at this rate. “Er, I don’t know,” I mumble. “Knowing you, a week?”
“If you’re classing sex with my vibrator, then yes,” she whispers. “Have you ever seen a sexier man?”
“Blondes aren’t my type, and yes. I’ve seen sexier.” I take another chocolate. We’re nearly out, and I wish I’d brought the full box to our table.
“Who?” She holds her hand up. “If you’re going to say that prick Callum from uni, please spare me.”
The model drops the robe and turns to face me. My jaw drops along with the half eaten chocolate in my hand. I glance at Amy, who's licking her lips, about to drop her knickers.
“I…I…” I can’t get my words out.
“I know,” Amy says.
“No… I actually know him.”
“You’re kidding? You haven’t shagged him as well, have you?”
“He’s gay.” I glance back at Michael. I never knew his body was so defined when he was sitting in his suit at the work dinner. It really is a small world. “Oh my gosh, I just saw it.”
Amy laughs. “That’s so typical. All the guys I meet are gay or married or both.” She picks up her wine and takes a big drink.
Michael sits on a chaise lounge draped in a red velvet blanket and lifts one leg, letting everything hang. I cover my eyes. “Why do I always get positioned full frontal? I thought taking these side easels would give us a side view.”
“I didn’t know the guy would sit sideways. At least this one doesn’t look like a shrivelled prune.” She snorts and gulps another mouthful of wine.
Michael catches my eyes. I hush Amy and elbow her across the table. He tilts his head and stares at me across the room.
I smile and wave. “Oh gosh. I think he recognises me.” I whisper without moving my lips, still smiling and waving, trying not to let my eyes wander downwards. Stay focused. Keep looking at his face.
His eyebrows pull together as he concentrates on my face, then he widens his eyes and shifts a little on the chaise, moving his hand to rest over his, er.
“Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made him go all shy. No fun.” Amy pouts.
“He’s gay.” I’m still waving and smiling like a puppet.
“So what? A girl can appreciate the male anatomy, can’t she?”
“All right, folks. We’re going to use your pencils to sketch an outline before we apply paint to paper.” Mark continues to speak, and Michael keeps looking at me as I sketch his body.
“Are you sure he’s gay? He keeps looking at you. Maybe he’s bi. I’ve always wanted a menagé.”
“Well, the last time I spoke to him he was happily married to an art…” I drop my pencil.
“An art what?”
I lean over the small table between us and whisper, “Do you think Mark’s his husband?”
She studies Mark. “It’s hard to tell. I don’t exactly have a gaydar. You should know, you’re the one that slept with him.”
I collect my pencil from the floor, glancing around to check no one can hear our whispers.
“Didn’t you say it was a bad experience? Maybe you’re the reason he’s gay.” She giggles.
“It was only a bad experience because he was a little overenthusiastic. He certainly wasn’t gay when I slept with him. Was he? I mean, he seemed to enjoy himself.”