I checked my phone for the third time in as many minutes. I still had five minutes before my date was due to arrive. We had agreed he’d come at 9.30, and he seemed pretty intent on reminding me about his preference for punctuality, so of course, I’d been getting ready all day. My fingers were stiff from the cold, yet sweat was dripping between my cleavage in my slightly too-tight low-cut top. Earlier in the week when I tried it on in the store, I had convinced myself of its perfection, but now I wasn’t so sure. Rechecking my phone, I had just enough time to run to the bathroom give myself the once-over, use some toilet paper to dab the wet patches and perform a few deep breathing exercises to quieten my screaming heartbeat before his car pulled into my driveway.

 

He was driving a black Alpha Romeo 4c Spider. My heart quietened down as the doorbell rang. Handsome face, smooth complexion, immaculate black suit. Glancing down at my attire, I wonder if I’m underdressed for the occasion.

‘Claire?’

‘Yes, and you must be John. 7.30, right on time. Come in, make yourself comfortable.’

 

Once inside, he quickly scanned the room before removing his wallet from his breast pocket. I swallowed hard as I took his money for the 60-minute booking.

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