‘I met him on the internet.’
‘You didn’t tell me you were internet dating!’ she said, her smile returning.
‘I’m not really. I just … I joined a site one night a while back when I was fed up – for a laugh, you know? I didn’t think anything would come of it. Anyway, I had to write a profile to be able to look around. But I wasn’t taking it seriously, so I wasn’t exactly honest in what I wrote.’
‘Are you Thai?’ Yvonne asked knowingly.
‘What? No! Of course not.’
‘Well, I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t pull off, then. Go on.’
‘Well, I got a message from this guy on the site, and he seems really nice, and … well, I was genuinely interested. We’ve been emailing and stuff. But now I’m going to meet him for the first time in real life.’
‘So you’re going to have to be whatever you said you were in your profile.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you want my help?’ she said. ‘I’m flattered. So, tell me.’
‘Well … I gave the impression that I was really sort of … sexy.’ Claire blushed, feeling ridiculous.
‘Sexy? Is that all?’ Yvonne looked aghast.
‘Um … yeah. But I mean really sexy, you know – really experienced and stuff.’
‘You mean a bit of a slapper?’
‘Not that. Just a nice girl who likes sex.’
‘Huh! Like the girl on that blog you’re obsessed with.’
‘Yes, exactly like her.’ Yvonne had often caught Claire reading ‘Scenes of a Sexual Nature’, but she had assumed she was just a devoted fan, not realising she was proofing her own posts.
‘Well, I don’t see why you need my help with that.’
‘Because … I need to seem sexy and sassy and sophisticated, and, well, I’m not.’
‘You are sexy! You just choose not to show it.’
Claire looked down at her drab, nondescript clothes. There was nothing remotely sexy or appealing about the way she dressed. She’d lost her way style-wise in recent years, and had pretty much given up bothering. ‘Well, anyway, I thought you might be able to help me.’
‘Because I’m a bit of a slapper?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Let’s face it,’ Yvonne said cheerfully. ‘I am a bit of a slapper.’
‘No, you’re not. You like men, that’s all. And sex. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘Well, this is going to be easy-peasy. I thought we were going to have to make you six foot tall or something. You just need a bit of a makeover.’
‘What would you have done if I did need to be six foot tall?’ Claire wondered.
‘I’d have thought of something. Anyway, don’t worry, we’ll sort you out. I take it this means we get to go shopping.’
Claire sighed. ‘Yes, it does. But I don’t have a huge amount to spend,’ she warned.
‘I can do sexy on a budget. I could do your makeup for you, if you like. When are you meeting this guy?’
‘Saturday night.’
‘Well, I could come round to yours – help you get ready.’
Claire could tell from the gleam in Yvonne’s eyes that she was already excited at the prospect of having her own life-size dress-up doll to play with. She didn’t know if she liked the idea of being Yvonne’s plaything, but she was being so kind, Claire didn’t have the heart to say no. Besides, she needed all the help she could get. ‘That would be great – if you really don’t mind. I mean, you probably have better things to do on a Saturday night.’
‘I’d love to help. And I can get ready to go out myself at the same time.’
‘It’s not just about clothes and makeup, though. I need to learn how to act the part too – you know, be flirty.’
‘I can totally help with that. I’ll give you a crash course in seduction techniques.’
‘And dating protocol. I don’t know what guys expect these days – how far you should go on a first date, things like that.’
‘As far as that goes, it’s the same as always,’ Yvonne said. ‘We have all the power.’
‘Really?’
‘You just have to own it.’
Claire sighed. She obviously had a hell of a lot to learn.
‘Do you have a rule?’ Yvonne asked.
‘A rule? What do you mean?’
‘Like, a three-date rule. You don’t sleep with a guy until you’ve been on three dates.’
‘Oh! No. Should I?’
Yvonne shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. My friend Judy has one and she swears by it. She says you have to give the guy time to get attached first, so he’s not as likely to run off the minute you have sex.’
‘Right.’ Claire was feeling clueless again. When had dating become so scientific and organised? ‘Do you have a three-date rule?’
‘Me? No. I’m always telling myself I’ll hold out, but two is as far as I’ve ever got. I have no willpower.’
‘I can’t remember if I have any willpower,’ Claire joked. ‘It’s been a long time since it was put to the test.’
‘So, what are you doing for this date?’
‘We’re going to dinner.’
‘Okay, dinner is good for a first meeting, especially with someone you’ve met online. You want to go somewhere public. But make sure to tell someone else where you’re going, just in case.’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
‘And if he invites you back to his place—’
‘Oh, he won’t. He’s coming over from London.’
‘London? He’s keen.’ Yvonne gave her a grin that said, ‘Go you!’ ‘But he could still invite you back to his hotel room.’
‘I’ll say no.’
‘Well, you can play it by ear,’ Yvonne said. ‘He might be too hot to resist.’
‘You’re giving me permission to go to his hotel room?’
‘Absolutely – you deserve some fun. And I’m sure you have good instincts.’
‘What about the three-date rule, though?’
‘I think you’ve held out long enough. Judy wouldn’t approve of me saying this, but if you want to go for it, do. Anyway, if he’s the sort of guy to run off once you’ve had sex, you might as well find that out on the first date before you waste any more time.’
Claire was relieved this wasn’t a real date she was going on – it all seemed so complicated.
‘So, when are we going on this shopping trip?’ Yvonne asked.
‘We’re both off on Thursday morning?’
‘Thursday it is, then.’
‘Thanks, Yvonne. I really appreciate it. I don’t expect miracles—’
Yvonne stopped her with a raised hand. ‘Is Sales my middle name, or is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘Well, this is just another sales pitch,’ she said, ‘only with you as the product.’
Claire smiled weakly.
‘Speaking of sales,’ Yvonne said, sliding out from behind the desk, ‘that guy doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just about to buy the yoga manual he’s been thumbing for the past half-hour.’
Claire watched her go, not at all sure what she had let herself in for.
‘What do you think?’ Claire asked as she stood in front of Yvonne, tugging at the hem of a silky red slip dress, very conscious that it barely covered her crotch. She couldn’t possibly appear in public in it. It would be like going out in her underwear.
‘It’s great! Very sexy,’ Yvonne enthused, eyeing Claire from her position on a velvet sofa.
‘It’s very expensive,’ Claire hedged, glancing again at the price tag. Yvonne had brought her to this upmarket boutique, saying it was the place to go if you wanted to do sexy on a shoestring. But clearly Yvonne’s shoestrings were made of ritzier stuff than Claire was used to. Still, at least she could make the excuse that she couldn’t afford it. She didn’t want to hurt Yvonne’s feelings when she was being so helpful.
‘It’s perfect,’ Yvonne continued. ‘That colour looks really good on you. But yo
u need to wear some seriously high shoes,’ she said, glancing at Claire’s bare feet. ‘And definitely no knickers.’
‘What?’ Claire paled. ‘I don’t want to look like a hooker.’
‘You won’t. But you can’t wear knickers in a dress like that. Apart from the fact that there’s no way of avoiding VPL, it sends the wrong message.’
‘I’m not trying to tell him I’m rentable by the hour.’
Yvonne rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘There is nothing tarty about that dress, okay? Besides, you couldn’t look slutty if you tried.’
Claire bit her lip. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she mumbled.
‘Good, because it was meant as one.’
Claire stared at herself in the mirror and tugged at the hem again. The colour was nice, and she did like the dress as far as it went – it just didn’t go far enough. ‘Maybe if I wore it with leggings …’
‘Leggings?’ Yvonne shrieked in disgust. ‘No way! If you can’t wear knickers with it, you certainly won’t get away with leggings.’
‘I think it could work as a top,’ Claire said. What she needed, she thought, was a second opinion.
‘What we need,’ Yvonne said, as if reading Claire’s mind, ‘is a second opinion.’ She grabbed her mobile from her bag and punched buttons as she spoke. ‘Preferably male.’
‘What are you—’
Yvonne held up a finger, silencing her. ‘Luca,’ she said, into the phone, and Claire froze in horror. She shook her head frantically at Yvonne, who ignored her and turned away, continuing to talk. ‘I’m over at Threads with a friend and we need some advice. I was wondering if you could pop over and help us.’
Oh, God, this was turning into a nightmare. She was desperate to get out of this dress, if there was even the remotest chance that Luca would turn up. She tried to dive for the changing room but Yvonne stuck a leg out, blocking her way.
‘Well, you’d get to ogle my friend in a very skimpy dress – and she has really nice legs,’ she was saying now, smiling into the phone. ‘And I suppose I could buy you lunch.’
‘Claire,’ Yvonne said after a pause. ‘You met her. She was at Ivan’s party the other night. I don’t know if you – oh! You do?’
Jeez, she was being sold to him like a prize heifer!
‘We’re in luck,’ Yvonne said, snapping her phone closed. ‘I remembered that Luca’s helping to hang an exhibition at the gallery just across the road. He’s going to call over.’
‘Well, there’s nothing for him to see here,’ Claire said, making another lunge for the changing room.
Yvonne shot up off the sofa and stood in front of Claire with her arms folded. ‘Come on, I know he seems a bit of a sleaze, but Luca has a great eye. He’s an artist. Plus he’s a man.’
‘But I don’t need another opinion. I already know—’
‘He actually remembered you from the party!’ Yvonne told her. ‘That’s not like Luca. You must have made a big impression on him.’
Claire cringed inwardly. She knew exactly the sort of impression she’d made on Luca. At least he’d had the decency not to fill Yvonne in on what had happened. But she’d thought she’d seen the last of him. ‘Please call him back and tell him not to bother,’ she begged.
‘Too late. Here he comes now,’ Yvonne said. A bell rang as the door swung open, and Yvonne beckoned him over.
He strode across the shop and threw himself onto one of the sofas in front of the changing area. ‘Hi, Claire. I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon.’
‘So, what do you think?’ Yvonne waved at Claire with a flourish.
Luca folded his arms and looked her up and down slowly. Claire kept her eyes on the floor, squirming under his scrutiny. Her skin prickled as his eyes ran over the length of her body, as though they were physically touching her.
‘Obviously she’d be wearing heels,’ Yvonne told him. ‘You have to use your imagination.’
‘It’s a very sexy dress,’ he said finally.
‘Yes!’ Yvonne punched the air with a triumphant smile. ‘That’s what I said.’
‘But it doesn’t suit you,’ Luca said, ignoring Yvonne and talking to Claire. Her eyes shot to his before she could stop them.
Yvonne gasped. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’ She frowned at him.
Claire felt her cheeks burning. Damn him – had he come here to humiliate her?
‘Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said, his eyes widening in horror.
‘It’s fine,’ Claire said. ‘I told you,’ she said to Yvonne, wishing she could hide in the changing room and not come out until both of them had gone.
‘You said it’s a sexy dress, and then you said it doesn’t suit her. What exactly did you mean?’ Yvonne demanded.
Oh, God, please just drop it, Claire begged silently.
‘It is a sexy dress. And she’s a sexy girl. You were right about the legs.’
‘Well, then …’
‘But you don’t feel sexy, do you?’ Luca said, eyeballing Claire.
She certainly didn’t feel sexy now. She felt silly and pathetic, as if she was trying to be something she wasn’t – like a child tricked out in her mother’s cocktail dress.
‘Well, she will when she’s got her makeup and heels on,’ Yvonne said. ‘And no underwear, of course. No one could feel sexy in bare feet and M&S knickers.’
Sweet Jesus, could this get any worse? Now Yvonne was sharing with Luca what kind of knickers she had on.
‘I will not be wearing no underwear.’ She fidgeted, tucking her hair behind her ears.
‘Back me up on this, Luca,’ Yvonne said.
‘Jesus, do you want to give the poor girl a coronary?’ He shot Claire a sympathetic look. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘No way.’
Maybe Luca wasn’t so bad after all, Claire thought.
‘The key to being sexy is feeling sexy,’ he said. ‘How do you feel in that dress?’ he asked her.
‘Exposed,’ she said. ‘Self-conscious. Ridiculous.’
‘Right. And that’s how you look—’
‘Luca!’ Yvonne gasped in outrage, while Claire wished she could evaporate.
‘Shit! I didn’t mean you look ridiculous. I meant you look embarrassed, self-conscious, like you’re trying to make yourself invisible. Your shoulders are up around your ears and you haven’t stopped fidgeting for one second.’
‘Well, that’s because you’re both staring at me.’
‘Exactly. You can’t go out in a dress like that if you don’t want people looking at you. That’s a dress for a woman who wants to be noticed.’
‘Well, what would you suggest?’ Yvonne asked him, speaking as if Claire wasn’t there. ‘This is what she was thinking of wearing,’ she said, picking up the dress Claire had first chosen and waving it at him. Claire had thought it was very nice – a classic LBD, simple, understated … a bit boring maybe, but she had felt good in it: comfortable, safe.
‘Okay.’ Luca eyed the dress with distaste. ‘So what we need is a compromise – something in between hooker and nun.’
‘That is not a hooker dress,’ Yvonne fumed, pointing at Claire.
‘And that’s not a nun dress,’ Claire mumbled sulkily.
‘What’s the occasion anyway?’ Luca asked.
‘Dinner. She’s got a date!’ Yvonne told him, sounding more like a pushy mother by the second. Claire prayed she wouldn’t go into details.
‘Good for you,’ Luca said softly. ‘And you’re letting Yvonne dress you? Seriously?’
‘I thought you were going to help, Luca. If you’re just going to criticise …’
‘Okay.’ He jumped off the sofa, holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Leave it to me. Take that thing off,’ he told Claire, snatching the black dress from Yvonne and marching away.
Claire went back to the changing room, hung the red dress on its hanger and waited. She was beginning to think Luca was never coming back when his arm appeared through the curtain.
/>
‘Here, try this,’ he said, thrusting a hanger at her.
Claire examined the dress before unzipping it to try it on. It was the palest shade of green, the bodice a soft velour, while the neckline and long sleeves were sheer chiffon. She pulled it on, loving the feel of it. She had wanted a dress with sleeves like this ever since she had first seen Grace Kelly in that blue dress in High Society. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it – but then she remembered she’d been zeroing in on black. She felt like hugging Luca when she looked in the mirror. It was perfect – sexy but classy. The bodice was fitted, clinging to her curves, but the skirt was full, layers of chiffon that swished when she moved, and fell to just above the knee. And the colour really suited her.
‘Well?’ Yvonne asked, from the other side of the curtain.
‘Yeah, it’s, um …’ Claire pulled the curtain back and stepped into the shop, where Yvonne and Luca were waiting expectantly. She stood in front of them for inspection, not minding their scrutiny now. She even did a little twirl.
‘Wow!’ Yvonne said, grinning with delight.
‘Perfect.’ Luca smiled. ‘My work here is done.’
‘Thanks, Luca,’ Claire said. ‘I really love it.’
‘You’ve earned yourself a big lunch, mister,’ Yvonne said.
‘I can’t make lunch,’ he said, with a grimace. ‘I’m meeting someone.’
‘Well, I’ll owe you.’
‘I’ll hold you to it. Enjoy your date, Claire,’ he called as he left.
Chapter Nine
Luca sat up in bed munching an apple as the afternoon sun slanted in through the blinds, warming him and creating strips of honey-coloured light on the polished wooden floor of Aisling’s bedroom.
‘Well, that was a long time coming,’ she said with a triumphant smile.
He looked at her stretched out naked beside him on the rumpled sheet, her long blonde hair tousled. Damp tendrils clung to her forehead and the sides of her face. ‘You were a long time coming,’ he said.
She made a sleepy, satisfied noise and nestled deeper into the pillow.
‘Give me a bite.’ She nodded at the apple.
Luca nipped her shoulder lightly. ‘There you go.’
Aisling laughed and grabbed the apple from him.
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