Read an Excerpt
He is giving me The Look. Some men pick up on me right away, and know exactly where I’m headed. More, though, hesitate. The hesitators all wear exactly the same expression on their faces and I can interpret it precisely.
It sounds like she’s flirting with me. Is she? She can’t be, but it does sound that way. No, I must be imagining it. She wouldn’t flirt. She’s in a wheelchair.
The chair, you understand, stops me (in most guys’ original assessment) from being a normal functional woman. They learn. They soon learn. I like to think I’m doing my bit for stereotype busting but in actuality, I’m just getting a lot of sex. Which suits me, thanks!
Anyway, back to Mr Red Jumper. I have leaned forward, and my elbows are on his table, my head leaning on my fists as I give him the once-over from a closer perspective. I make no attempt to hide my assessment. Why should I, when he measures up so well? Why should I, when I will be in bed with him later tonight? That assessment will be much fuller, but for the moment I work gently around his prejudices and give him time to get used to the idea.
“Um,” he stammers, “fuel prices; the government being criticised for this new housing scheme.” He shrugs a little apologetically. “Nothing very interesting.”
“Oh, what a shame. But you were studying it so intently that I imagined there must be something fascinating there.”
“But that’s good,” I assure him.
“It is?” He looks a little alarmed and I move in for the first small pounce.
“Yes.” I smile again, my head tilted to the side. “You see, it means we can dispense with this” – I sweep the paper to the far side of the table – “and get down to business.”
He smiles back, uncertainly. I force him to hold my gaze for five – ten – twenty seconds. I don’t know what he reads in my face, but the smile becomes more genuine.
“Are you always this forceful?” he asked.