stuck a pitchfork in Aidan's arse and broke the spell.
At this stage I'd seen Aidan about seven or eight times and not once had he tried to jump me.
Every date we'd gone on, we'd had just one kiss. It had improved from quick and firm to slower
and more tender, but one kiss was as good as it got.
Had I wanted more? Yes. Was I curious about his restraint? Yes. But I kept it all under control
and something had held me back from getting Jacqui in a headlock every time I came home from
an unjumped-on night out and tearfully agonizing: What's his problem? Doesn't he fancy me? Is
he gay? Christian? One of those True Love Waits gobshites? Feathery Stroker in disguise?
A idan rang the day after the Halloween party and said, "Last night was fun."
"Glad you enjoyed it. Listen, on Saturday night, Shake's in the local heat of the air-guitar
championship. We're all going along to laugh. Like to come?"
A pause. "Anna, can we...talk?"
Oh Christ.
"Don't get me wrong. I really like Jacqui and Rachel and Luke and Shake and Leon and Dana
and Nell and Nell's strange friend. But I'd like to see you, just the two of us?"
"When?"
"Soon as possible? Tonight?"
A funny feeling started fluttering in the pit of my stomach.
It increased when Aidan said, "There's a nice little Italian on West Eighty-fifth."
There was more than a nice little Italian on West Eighty-fifth. Aidan lived on West Eighty-Fifth.
"Eight o'clock?" he suggested.
"Okay."
W e got through our food superspeedily; an hour and a half after we'd arrived, we were at
the coffee and kicking-out stage. How had that happened?
Because our minds weren't on our food, that's how. I was very, very nervous--although I
shouldn't have been. Shortly after we'd come to New York, me and Jacqui had done a class in
seduction techniques. "We're out of our depth in this city," Jacqui had said. "New York women
are very experienced. If you and me can't pole-dance we'll never get blokes."
I had only gone along for the laugh. My feeling was that if a man refused to sleep with me
because I wouldn't be his private dancer, he could so forget it. However, the class had been more
interesting than I'd expected and I'd picked up a couple of handy hints on how to undress.
(When you take your bra off, you should wave it above your head like you're trying to lasso a
runaway steer, and after you slide out of your knickers, you must touch your toes and waggle
your bum right in meladdo's face.)
So, in theory, I could pull one or two sexual tricks out of the box. And yet when Aidan twirled
my hair around one of his fingers and said, "Come back to my place. See who won The
Apprentice before you embark on your long journey downtown," all the little hairs on the back of
my neck stood to attention and I thought that I might varmint.
W hen he let us into his apartment, I stood in the hall, listening. "Where's Marty tonight?"
"Out."
"Out? How out?"
A hesitation. "Very out."
"Hmm." I pushed open a door and walked into a bedroom. I took in the neat crisp bed linen, the
candles dotted about, the meadow-fresh smell. "This yours?"
"Um, yes." He followed me in.
"And it always looks this good?"
Pause. "No."
I flicked my eyes at him and we laughed nervously. Then his expression changed to something
far more intense and my stomach plunged. I moved around his room, picking things up and
putting them down.
The candles on his nightstand were Candy Grrrl ones. "Oh, Aidan, I could have got you these for
free."
"Anna?" he said softly. He was right beside me, I hadn't heard him approach. I looked up.
"Fuck the candles," he said.
He slid his hand along my neck, under my hairline, sending electric shivers down my back,
brought his face to mine, and kissed me. Tentatively at first, then suddenly we really went for it
and I was overwhelmed by his nearness, the roughness of his hair, the heat of his body through
the thin cotton of his shirt. I moved my thumb along the leanness of his jawline, my fingers down
the line of his
At this stage I'd seen Aidan about seven or eight times and not once had he tried to jump me.
Every date we'd gone on, we'd had just one kiss. It had improved from quick and firm to slower
and more tender, but one kiss was as good as it got.
Had I wanted more? Yes. Was I curious about his restraint? Yes. But I kept it all under control
and something had held me back from getting Jacqui in a headlock every time I came home from
an unjumped-on night out and tearfully agonizing: What's his problem? Doesn't he fancy me? Is
he gay? Christian? One of those True Love Waits gobshites? Feathery Stroker in disguise?
A idan rang the day after the Halloween party and said, "Last night was fun."
"Glad you enjoyed it. Listen, on Saturday night, Shake's in the local heat of the air-guitar
championship. We're all going along to laugh. Like to come?"
A pause. "Anna, can we...talk?"
Oh Christ.
"Don't get me wrong. I really like Jacqui and Rachel and Luke and Shake and Leon and Dana
and Nell and Nell's strange friend. But I'd like to see you, just the two of us?"
"When?"
"Soon as possible? Tonight?"
A funny feeling started fluttering in the pit of my stomach.
It increased when Aidan said, "There's a nice little Italian on West Eighty-fifth."
There was more than a nice little Italian on West Eighty-fifth. Aidan lived on West Eighty-Fifth.
"Eight o'clock?" he suggested.
"Okay."
W e got through our food superspeedily; an hour and a half after we'd arrived, we were at
the coffee and kicking-out stage. How had that happened?
Because our minds weren't on our food, that's how. I was very, very nervous--although I
shouldn't have been. Shortly after we'd come to New York, me and Jacqui had done a class in
seduction techniques. "We're out of our depth in this city," Jacqui had said. "New York women
are very experienced. If you and me can't pole-dance we'll never get blokes."
I had only gone along for the laugh. My feeling was that if a man refused to sleep with me
because I wouldn't be his private dancer, he could so forget it. However, the class had been more
interesting than I'd expected and I'd picked up a couple of handy hints on how to undress.
(When you take your bra off, you should wave it above your head like you're trying to lasso a
runaway steer, and after you slide out of your knickers, you must touch your toes and waggle
your bum right in meladdo's face.)
So, in theory, I could pull one or two sexual tricks out of the box. And yet when Aidan twirled
my hair around one of his fingers and said, "Come back to my place. See who won The
Apprentice before you embark on your long journey downtown," all the little hairs on the back of
my neck stood to attention and I thought that I might varmint.
W hen he let us into his apartment, I stood in the hall, listening. "Where's Marty tonight?"
"Out."
"Out? How out?"
A hesitation. "Very out."
"Hmm." I pushed open a door and walked into a bedroom. I took in the neat crisp bed linen, the
candles dotted about, the meadow-fresh smell. "This yours?"
"Um, yes." He followed me in.
"And it always looks this good?"
Pause. "No."
I flicked my eyes at him and we laughed nervously. Then his expression changed to something
far more intense and my stomach plunged. I moved around his room, picking things up and
putting them down.
The candles on his nightstand were Candy Grrrl ones. "Oh, Aidan, I could have got you these for
free."
"Anna?" he said softly. He was right beside me, I hadn't heard him approach. I looked up.
"Fuck the candles," he said.
He slid his hand along my neck, under my hairline, sending electric shivers down my back,
brought his face to mine, and kissed me. Tentatively at first, then suddenly we really went for it
and I was overwhelmed by his nearness, the roughness of his hair, the heat of his body through
the thin cotton of his shirt. I moved my thumb along the leanness of his jawline, my fingers down
the line of his
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