“Mrs. Stone.” It was his voice, and she was somewhere familiar, a wood not far from her childhood home, except the trees were different, in an unusual cluster. “I will find you. Where are you? Don’t hide from me.” She did not want to hide from him. She tried to part the branches, but they were moving, creeping in her path and she could not get out of the glade.
“John!” she called, looking for him, up into the sky, but the trees were bending, their topmost branches meshing together, blocking out the light. “John!”
“I will find you. Why are you hiding?”
She wanted to answer but her voice had gone, and now she could not move, for the branches were winding and locking themselves around her ankles, and her wrists, and her waist. She was their prisoner, helpless and voiceless, unable to reach out for John. She could hear his voice, sounding worried now, and she could do nothing except let the tears roll down her face until she was blinded, completely in the dark, and something dark and hot pressed itself between her legs; a forceful thing, a bundle of tongue, pushing and licking there, and although she knew it was wrong and she wanted it to go, she could only stand there, bound and gagged and blindfolded, and let it bring her to that pitch of pleasure she had so wanted to save for her husband.
When she awoke, she was gasping and there were tears in her eyes, even though the telltale stickiness between her legs indicated that the rush of climax had been real. She let a few tears leak out, needing an emotional release after the intensity of the dream. The illuminated clock face read 4:14 a.m. Her mobile bleeped—surely an old message, not a new one at this time of night? She flipped it open and read two words: “Sweet dreams.”
“Have you ever been to the opera? He wants to take me to the opera. What shall I wear?”
“Yeah, I’ve been a few times.” Mimi peered over Anna’s shoulder at her blotter, on which she had scribbled various versions of her “newlywed” signature. John Stone. The name rang a bell. Was it an alarm bell, or just an innocent ding-a-ling? “Is it Covent Garden or the Coliseum?”
“Covent Garden, I think.”
“Ah. Dressy then. I take it all went well last night, did it?”
Anna’s face gave her the answer she needed, and Mimi wondered why she felt uncomfortable. Her friend was happy, in love with a man who seemed to be mightily taken with her. Even if it eventually came to nothing, a little summer fun couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Oh, Anna.” She tried to hide her concern behind a tone of maiden-aunt indulgence. “You don’t have to fall madly for every attractive man you see. Enjoy yourself. It needn’t be undying love all the time.”
“Do you think he’s attractive?” Anna’s voice was dreamy. “It’s funny; I sort of didn’t notice at first. But he is, isn’t he? He’s just…magnetic. And his eyes just hold you.”
“He’s no minger, that’s for sure,” Mimi reassured. “Do you have an evening gown? I’d lend you one but it would drown you. There’s always the hire places.”
“He says what I wore yesterday will be fine. Do you know where he took me in the end?”
Mimi resigned herself to ten more minutes of Anna’s ecstatic trilling before heading upstairs to her own office, where she had an appointment with Google.
Half an hour later, Liam’s desk phone rang.
“Hullo, Liam McGlynn speaking.”
“Liam, it’s Mimi from Editorial. Listen. What do you think of Anna?”
“Anna?” He lowered his voice, peering over the top of his desk divider at the girl in question, who was typing away with an expression of beatific serenity. “She’s lovely. Why?”
“Do you fancy her?”
“Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. What’s this about?”
“Why the hell haven’t you asked her out, you lunatic? She fancies you rotten.”
“No! Does she really? Seriously?” Liam straightened his shoulders and ran fingers through his hair, looking again over the rim of his domain into hers. “Why didn’t you say before?”
“I thought it was obvious.” Mimi made a noise of disgusted disbelief. “Right. Well. Hopefully all is not lost. Ask her out. Tell her you’ve got tickets for the Kaiser Chiefs at the O2 tonight.”
“I haven’t though.”
“I have. You can have them.”
“What? What the fuck… Mimi, is this some kind of wind-up?”
“I wish. Just do it, will you? Please? Pretty please? And call me back afterwards.”
“Well… Okay. Was going for beers
with the lads after work though. It’s Friday.”