‘You like to be kissed?’ he whispered, as if any answer were necessary.
‘Love it,’ she said out loud. ‘Love it, love it, love it.’
‘You need to talk for her.’ He inclined his head towards the bathroom door. ‘Some moans.’ He raised his voice again, holding her tight. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said.
‘Mmm,’ she contributed, squirming in order to get some consolidation from the mattress.
‘Say “Oh my God, it’s so big!”,’ he suggested, and Poppy giggled at his outrageous male vanity.
‘I’m not saying that!’
‘Oh, do, why not?’
She rolled her eyes, then put her hand on the bulge in his boxers.
‘Wow, this is nice,’ she said, sincerely and aloud.
‘Poppy!’ He tried to remove her hand, but lamely, not putting his full strength into the gesture. ‘You are a bad girl, you know.’
‘I do know. That’s why you had to spank me, isn’t it?’
‘I can’t. Please don’t make me fuck you, Poppy. I can’t.’
She let go of him, stung and embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, to, cross your personal boundaries.’
‘Shh, Poppy, you know, I would love to. I would love to fuck you all night. But I can’t. I really can’t. Listen to me. I’m going to give you my number. If you need me for anything, just call me. If anything happens at the club, will you tell me?’
‘What do you mean by “anything”?’
‘Anything at all. To you, to another girl, to a client.’
‘You want me to be your informant?’
‘I will pay, of course.’
‘You mean all of this was to get me to—’
‘No, no. I know these people, these club people. I know their associates, I know what they do. I worry for you, Poppy. I need to know you are OK. Will you keep my number? Will you call me if you want a friend?’
She nodded, sobered by the seriousness of his tone.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I wish I could take you away from it, but …’ He shrugged. ‘It must be your decision.’
‘Right.’
She watched while he reached for his wallet and took from it a business card, which he slipped inside her bra. Then he took out a condom packet.
For a second, she thought he must have changed his mind. But he took the condom out of the wrapper and then threw it into the wastepaper basket, along with the foil.
‘For safety,’ he said.
‘What if Emma sees that the condom isn’t used?’
‘You think she will look so close? I don’t. Come on. Let’s get to it.’
They spent five minutes bucking and jerking around on the mattress, gasping and groaning for effect, until Poppy judged that the time was right to fake her orgasm and Bruno grunted in unison.