Indecent...Desires by Jane O'Reilly Read Free Book Online Page A

as well make it a good one – and settle down with a book.
    It’s about that time, right before the microwave pings, that I hear the familiar sound of the post being shoved under the door. We have a system in the building where if there’s mail on the mat inside the main door, whoever comes in shoves it under the door of the person it’s meant for. There are only three of us living in the building, so it’s a pretty effective system. It should be. I implemented it.
    I put down my book and get up from the sofa, my bare feet quiet on the floorboards as I make my way over to the door. There, just inside my door, is a small white envelope. I pick it up and turn it over. It has my name on it but it doesn’t have a stamp or the rest of my address. The alarm bells are ringing even before I get it open.
    The stationery is thick, crisp, expensive, just like the kind we use at work. I know as I set my thumb under the flap and tear it open that it is the kind we use at work. My heart pounds, my vision blurring for a second as I try not to think about all the things that could be inside this note, like a polite little letter from Martin Banks telling me that he’s very sorry, but he’s going to have to let me go for inappropriate use of the stationery cupboard.
    But it isn’t from Martin Banks. It’s from Lucas Brady. Two lines in untidy script, with his name scrawled at the bottom. I force myself to read it.
    And then I read it again. And again.
    I go into my bedroom and there, through the window, I can see Lucas. He is sitting on the bed, his back propped against the headboard, a laptop on his knee. He doesn’t so much as glance in my direction.
    I look at the note again.
Dear Ms French,
it says.
I thought you should know watching you get yourself off was the horniest thing I have ever seen, and that after you left, I stayed in the cupboard for another ten minutes so I could have a wank. I came on the floor but I cleaned it up. I am very sorry.
Lucas Brady.
    I almost can’t believe his audacity. I wanted to let this go, to pretend that today had never happened. I intended to take tomorrow off work and then go back in and act like everything was normal. All I needed was some space. I have plans for the future and they don’t involve playing sex games with a twenty-four-year-old man. Especially not these sort of games. Lucas is making me explore a side of myself that I’m not sure I want to know, a side that I’ve tried so hard to keep buried, because quite frankly, it scares the shit out of me.
    But I can’t let it go. Not now.
    I shove my feet into a pair of pumps and quickly pull on a cardigan, wanting to get this done before I lose my nerve. I’m about to do something I never thought I would do, and it takes a tremendous amount of courage to leave my flat and cross the road and push the buzzer that links to the top-floor flat.
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜We need to talk,’ I say, without bothering to tell him that it’s me. If he’s been watching out of his window, he’ll know that anyway. And I can’t let him give me any chance to talk myself down.
    â€˜Oh,’ he says. Then, ‘Do you want to come up?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I say firmly, before I can think of reasons to say otherwise. I pull open the door as the buzzer sounds and make my way up the narrow, uncarpeted staircase, my shoes squeaking on the bare wood. It feels like I’m crossing a boundary, entering into territory that doesn’t belong to me. I have to take control of the situation but I’m not on my own turf, and that unnerves me. At the top of the stairs, Lucas is waiting in his open doorway. I hear the gentle sound of music filtering out from inside his flat, something cheery with guitars and singing that I would probably enjoy, if I was on my own in my car.
    But not here, not now when I’m so filled with fear and frustration that it is all I can do not to yell