I think about you being very, very nice to me, she said.
He seemed to find this amusing. Oh yeah? he said. In what way?
She turned and hid her face in the pillow, which had the effect of suggesting she was in fact embarrassed, but when she spoke she was smiling. You’re going to make fun of me if I tell you, she said.
I genuinely won’t.
Well, I think about different things. I mean, I don’t just have the same fantasy every time. But one thing all the fantasies have in common is— You are going to laugh, because it’s so vain. I would never usually say this to someone, but you asked. I like to imagine that you really want me – a lot, not just a normal amount.
Lightly he moved his hand over her ribs, down the side of her body. And how do you know I do? he said. In the fantasy. Do I say it to you or is it just obvious?
It’s obvious. But we get to a part later on where you say it as well.
And do you give me what I want, or you just like teasing me?
She turned her face even further into the pillow. He moved his hand back up to her waist, up her ribcage, up to the soft line of her breast. In a low murmuring tone she said: You get what you want.
So why does it make a difference how much I want it? he said. Am I begging you?
No, no, you’re not pushy. You’re just really into it.
And can I ask, am I any good? Or do you imagine me more kind of nervous because I want it so badly?
She turned to face him, lying on her side again. His fingers moved over the surface of her breast, as far as the strap of her nightdress and back down.
I do sometimes imagine you kind of nervous, she said.
He nodded, his face and manner expressing a keen interest in the discussion. Can I ask something else? he said. You don’t have to tell me. But what do you think about when you come?
I think about you coming, she said.
Where, inside you?
Usually.
Slowly, as if in deep thought, he ran the back of his hand over her belly, down over her navel. She was looking at him still.
I know what you’re going to say now, she said.
Yeah? What?
I’m going to ask if you ever think about me in that way, and you’re going to go: No, not really.
He laughed, stroking the cloth of her nightdress with the back of his hand. No, I’m not going to say that, he said. I can tell you about it if you like, but I’d prefer to hear more what you think. I mean, obviously because it revolves around me I like hearing it, but I also just think it’s interesting. I’ve tried asking people about this stuff before and they never usually tell me anything.
Oh, she said. Were you using a line on me? I thought we were being very intimate.
His laughter had a note of awkwardness in it. We are, he replied. I have asked the question in the past but, as I said, I never usually get anywhere with it. And in fairness
I’ve only ever asked people I’m already with. I’ve never gone down the route of using it as a pick-up line.
It is a little unorthodox. But then I don’t think you’re really trying to pick me up.
Well, I could have waited until tomorrow to show you the raccoon video, he said.
She laughed then, and he smiled with the pleasure of making her laugh.
You know well why I’m here, he added.
No I don’t! she said. We’ve been in Rome four nights already and the mood hasn’t struck you at all?
We were only getting to know each other then.
What a gentleman.
He turned over again. I don’t know, he said. I went back and forth on it. Honestly you can be kind of intimidating in certain situations, I don’t know if you know that.
I’ve heard it from other people, but from you it surprises me, she said.
He shrugged and said nothing.
And I don’t intimidate you anymore? she said.
You still do, a small bit. But you know, when someone tells you all their favourite sexual fantasies, that takes the edge off the intimidation a bit. I mean, no offence, but you obviously really fancy me.
Coolly she replied: You told me you weren’t going to make fun of me if I told you those things. Feel free, but it doesn’t hurt me and I think it’s cheap.
He got up on his elbow and looked down at her. See? he said. See, that’s intimidating when you talk like that. I wasn’t actually making fun of you, by the way, and I’m sorry if you thought I was. But when you’re pissed off with me you get this attitude, like you’re so above me. It makes me feel like a little worm.
For a while she lay there and said nothing. Then, sadly, she said: Okay, I’m defensive, and I act superior, and I make you feel bad. And besides all that it’s obvious I have a crush on you anyway. So I suppose I’m very pathetic to you and not even pleasant to be around.