Poisoning

“How about a drink?” she said, putting the tip of her finger on his lips and staring into his eyes. She felt his mouth curve into a smile and he nodded rather than open his mouth and lose this contact between them. This was only the beginning, he thought, the contact could only grow from here.

She removed her finger from his lips and quickly spun around so that her long white skirt whirled around her. She reached her arm behind her without looking and he put his hand in hers. She walked forward to her front door and he followed as she went inside.

As soon as the door was closed, he took her other hand and leaned her against the wall and leant in to kiss her. “Wait,” she said. “Drinks.”

“Drinks can wait,” he said.

“I’m thirsty.”

He wanted to stay here, this closeness to a woman wasn’t something he had often and right now he could feel her breath on his neck. It was warm. It was soft. He wanted to stay here but at least if he kept her happy he’d be able to come back here, and that was the next best thing.

“Drinks,” he said, and he smiled. She smiled back and led him through to the kitchen and discarded his hand in the direction of a chair that was next to the back door.

“Sit,” she said, but her message had already got through and he was already walking over to the chair to sit. “Coffee?” she said.

He found it amusing. Coffee was supposed to be a euphemism. He had thought that “how about a drink?” was a euphemism too which was why he’d made a move as soon as they were inside, before he’d discovered that all she wanted was a drink. All she’d wanted then, anyway, the night was young. Now he was being offered coffee and it didn’t mean anything other than that he’d get a drink of coffee.

“You’re a difficult one to read, you know that?” he said.

“What?” she said, turning around to face him and leaning her head slightly to the side.

“Sorry,” he said. “Doesn’t matter. Coffee would be lovely. Lovely like you,” with a little too much emphasis on the “you.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“I know, I was just being silly, ignore me.”

“Okay,” she said, and she turned around again to face the kettle. He found himself unable to read her again. She was either playing with him and she’d turn around in a second and laugh, or she was genuinely mad, or even upset, by what he’d said, and she was actually going to ignore him. It wouldn’t be the easiest thing for her to do in her own home and so it couldn’t possibly be that, and yet here he found himself sitting in her kitchen, her back turned, and he had no idea what to do.

Soon, he knew, as she smiled at him and walked over with two cups of coffee in her hands.