Chapter 94 – Summer’s Inferno – Part 4


    GEORGIE


    The shop-girl frowns. “No, the swing itself. We sell three different models. After the holiday break, he


    bought The Parisian about six months ago. He says it turned his life around.”


    “You have it in stock?” says Borje. “Can we see it?”


    “Of course, sir. We have a demo set up in the back.”


    The contraption dangles from an A-stand, of the kind I’ve asionally seen by swimming pools or on


    sunnywns, supporting basket chairs. A pair of webbing straps support a sort of sponge rubber base,


    a seat. Another pair dangle free. If I’d not known what kind of store we were in, I’d have thought it was


    a piece of climbing equipment.


    “Here, I’ll show you.” The girl seems entirely unembarrassed as she steps backward into the


    arrangement of straps, easing her butt onto the spongy seat. “It looks a bit intimidating when you first


    see it, but really, it’s very easy andfortable. This is set up to my size for demonstration purposes,


    but it’s so simple to adjust.”


    She grips the supporting straps. “You have to be sure that your arms are outside the straps like this…”


    She illustrates by tucking the straps under her elbows… “Then, once you lean back, you can’t fall out of


    the swing. You’re really safe, no matter what you do. Then…” She leans forward, hooking her feet,


    hook your feet in here, lean back and you’re good to go.”


    Sitting up in the contraption, she slides webbing through buckles… “If you lengthen the leg straps, you


    can lie back almost t.” She demonstrates, then sits upright again… “But if you shorten them, like


    this…” She tightens the webbing, pulling up her knees… “You’ll find that it kinda of… “She waggles her


    eyebrows… “kinda opens you up, so you’re all ready for him…” She drops a wink to Borje, who grins in


    return.


    She slips of the seat, gesturing to me. “Would you like to try it?”


    “No. Definitely not.”


    Her smiles fades, but Borje slips an arm around my waist. “A little advanced I think, but thank you. We’ll


    just keep looking around.”


    The girl’s smile returns. “I’ll be at the counter. Sing out if I can help with anything else.”


    “I will.” Borje hooks his arm into mine, steering me back into the main store. “I’d like to buy you


    something.”


    “Buy me something?” I parrot his words like an audio file set to ‘Repeat’. “What would you buy me from


    here?”


    He runs hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Something. A gift.” He looks this way and that. “Those


    stockings would suit you.”


    “Stockings?”


    “Yes, stockings. You have the legs for it. And the thighs. Some women don’t look right in in them, the


    way they can bite into fleshy thighs, but they’d look great on you.” He plucks a packet from the disy.


    “They’ve got hold ups, but if you prefer the others, I’ll get you the belt as well…” He shes brows…


    “And the rest of the lingerie set if you like.”


    I cringe. “I don’t like stockings. They look cheap and nasty. And they make the women wearing them


    look cheap too.”


    Borje face falls. Lips pressing t, unspeaking, he slips the packet back in the rack. “Come on, let’s get


    something to eat.”


    *****


    With barely a word spoken, Borje marches us across the road. “Italian good enough for you?”


    “Um… Yes… Fine.”


    *****


    The restaurant is lovely, sunshine spilling through the windows over our table. A bottle of excellent


    ‘House Red’ stands open beside the grinder and a small bowl of shredded Parmesan. But I’m uneasy.


    Borje stirs the food round his te.


    I grind pepper over my ravioli, then spoon over a bit of cheese. “Don''t you like it?”


    He winds fettine around his fork, but doesn’t eat it, doesn’t reply.


    “Are you angry with me?”


    “No, not angry. A better word would be disappointed. I thought we had something.”


    “We do have something, but… you dragged me into a sex-shop. You wanted to…”


    Content rights belong to N?velDrama.Org.


    He cuts me short. “Georgie, I think you badly need to chill out and to abandon some of your


    preconceptions. A couple who dress, behave and y to please each other, are not somehow immoral


    or debauched.”


    My hackles rise. “They could be. You read about all sort of pervs and sickos…”


    “So you do,” he snaps. “I see the results of some of it on my b.”


    He stops, swallows, then, “My apologies. I shouldn’t have said that. As I say, it’s been a bad morning.”


    Sitting upright, he takes a swallow from his ss, looks me face on. “So, give me an example, Georgie.


    What makes someone a perv or a sicko in your mind?”


    My pasta sits uneasily. “Well… there’s that maniac who’s going round the streets right now,


    ughtering women…” his eyes drop… “There’s people who abuse kids and animals…”


    Borje holds for long seconds, his mouth working, before he responds. “And in your head, that kind of


    behaviour is the same as…” He aims a finger out and across the road to Wicked Whispers where, in


    the window, the assistant, speaking now to the older couple we saw go in earlier, is pulling aside a p


    ofce from a skirt, illustrating how it opens up… “… a consenting couple who enjoy a bit of sexual


    tomfoolery with each other.”


    “No, of course not. But it’s a slippery slope.”


    “It is not a slippery slope,” he hisses. “There’s a very definite dividing line between sexual kink and


    perversion.”


    “Oh? Is that right? And what is this dividing line? How do you decide where it lies?”


    He leans close, enunciating the word. “Consent.”


    “Consent? That’s it?”


    “Yes. Consent. Informed, adult consent, between individuals who understand what they are doing


    together and who trust each other.”


    He gulps at his wine. “Children and animals can’t give consent. Neither did the women that bastard


    they’re calling The Surgeon gutted. But most can. And many do. And as far as I’m concerned,


    intelligent, informed adults, making intelligent, informed decisions to enjoy each other, are wee to


    do so. Their tastes may not be my tastes, but so long as no one is being hurt by it, that’s their concern.”


    “Okay! Okay…” I sip my own wine, then put down the ss when I realise my hand is shaking.


    “Perhaps I overstated it. But I mean… Look at it…” The assistant has taken the skirt off the model and


    the woman is now holding it up against herself, while her partner grins, making somement. “It’s


    so… tawdry.”


    “Tawdry? They look like a married couple to me. And as though they’ve been together some while.


    Having an active love life is tawdry?”


    The pasta weighs in my stomach, an indigestible clot.


    After some seconds, Borje lets out air. “So, what you’re saying, Georgie is, you think sex is dirty.”


    “Well, not… dirty… as such. It’s just, there’s things you don’t do.”


    “Such as? Not minding that the world can see you as two perfectly normal human beings who…” He


    looks across again. The woman, standing on tiptoes, her palm resting on his chest, reaches up to kiss


    her husband… “… who by the look of it, after some years of marriage, are still heavily into each other.”


    Swiping a bit of my pasta through the sauce, I bite in, but the spinach and ricotta centre has congealed


    gone cold.


    Borje just stares at his te. “Perhaps this isn''t a good idea.”


    “It was a great idea…” My stomach knots, but I put the bounce in my voice. “This pasta is lovely. And


    the wine''s really good.”


    He looks up, unsmiling. “I didn''t mean the meal, Georgie. I meant you and me.”


    The clot inside curdles entirely. “What do you mean?”


    As if I didn’t know…


    “I''m beginning to think I''m expecting too much from you.” He speaks slowly, carefully, clearly choosing


    his words. “Perhaps, Georgie, we are simply not a good fit together.”


    His eyes drop and he stirs the food around his te again. “I’m not looking for an arguement. I hope


    we’ll still be friends. But I''m pushing at boundaries you’re not happy to cross. And that''s… fine.


    Everyone has ces they want to go, and ces they don''t. But yours and mine aren''t the same. I


    think… I think I might cause both of us a good deal of hurt if I keep pursuing this.”


    My eyes flood. “You can''t mean that…” Shooting out a hand, I take his… “Please don''t tell me you


    mean that.” Then the heat boils inside. “Is this some kind of ckmail? You’re going to break off with


    me unless I agree to behave like somemon prostitute?”


    He swings his head. “No, Georgie, that''s not it. It''s that when I make a basic suggestion, visiting an


    adult shop, buying you a gift… a very simple gift… you see it that way.”


    “It''s the same thing.”


    “No. It isn’t. There''s all the difference in the world. Couples can do whatever they want together.


    Georgie, how do you imagine you were conceived? You think your mother experienced some version


    of the immacte conception? Your father blew her a kiss and magically you came to be?”


    Without meaning to, I rise from my seat. “Don’t you bring my mother and father into this!” Then I realise


    heads are turning my way, and I sit again. “Mom always said he was strange,” I hiss, “…and that he


    wanted… Well…”


    “Wanted what?” Borje tilts his head. “What did he want, Georgie? That a man may not ask of his wife?”


    “I’m not repeating it. But the fact he shares his current so-called wife with another man says it all,


    doesn’t it.”


    He leans back, sighing. “We’re back to that, are we? Your parents weren’t well matched, and your


    father went on to choose a lifestyle you don’t approve of.”


    My face is hot, and my ss is empty. I fill it again then knock back half the ss. Borje watches


    withoutment then taking the bottle, pours half a ss for himself.


    “Georgie, can I ask you something?”


    “What?”


    “You talked about your father asking for something your mother wouldn’t agree to. Did she ever say he


    coerced her?”


    “No, of course not. He’s not that kind of man.”


    He nods, slowly. “I’m d you see it that way. So do I.”


    “Borje, are you trying to tell me something?”


    His eyes go far away… Then, “Yes, I am. But you’re not interested in hearing it.”


    *****


    RICHARD


    Perching a hip on the edge of her desk, “Francis, can you make me an appointment with the mayor


    for…”


    The elevator doors swish open and Klempner sweeps in as though he owned the ce. “Haswell, I


    don’t know if you need me to check in or simr, but I’ll be in the apartment upstairs.”


    Francis half rises from her seat at his entry, but I wriggle fingers at her…


    Let it lie…


    With a touch of Jack-in-the-Box about her, Lydia’s head pops up from behind some training manual


    Francis has her working on. “Apartment? You’re living here?”


    “Lydia!” Francis snaps the word in a tone to blister leather.