Page 83 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Oh my God.’ Her head in her hands, I almost miss her next words. ‘The whole purpose was for your benefit, not to keep tormenting me.’
‘Tormenting you has been the best.’ As she peeks out from her splayed fingers, I continue. ‘The gift that keeps on giving.’ With one hand, I theatrically shake the note open and clear my throat. ‘In order to spend time with Alyssa Montgomery having wonderful, no-strings and no holds barred sexy-times, I need her to... orgasm lots.’
‘That was supposed to be a way to make you feel in control,’ she cries plaintively.
‘We’ve already had this discussion. Me being in control of your sexual education has been fuckin’ fantastic. So, orgasms. Lots. Check.’ I make the motion in the air with an invisible sharpie pen. ‘More to come, pardon the pun. Next, watch porn.’
‘Sweet baby Jesus,’ she moans.
‘That’s a toughie. You could watch some on my phone, but then I wouldn’t get to participate.’
‘In watching?’
‘In watching you watching.’ And other stuff. ‘Skinny dip,’ I say next. ‘We’ll have to wait until we get to Byron’s.’
‘I thought the Hunter Valley was inland?’
‘We’ll use the pool, obviously.’
‘I’m not getting naked in your brother’s pool!’
‘Don’t worry. I grew up in that house. There are a couple of secluded spots.’
‘I don’t need to hear about your teenage antics.’
‘You’re sure?’ Who would have thought roads trips could be such fun? ‘Suit yourself. Last but not least on the list is dirty talk.’
‘What a shame we’ve already covered that,’ she retorts a touch smugly.
‘Have we?’
‘Yep. Last night you said what I said was the hottest thing you’d ever heard.’
‘What was it you said?’ I ask, feigning memory loss. I hate that she looks a little crestfallen, but there’s a method in my meanness.
‘If you can’t remember then it can’t have been that mind-blowing,’ she huffs, folding her arms.
‘Want to practise?’
‘No!’
‘It’ll be like aversion therapy.’
‘It’ll be like torture. Besides, how will I know if it’s working?’
‘Rafferty test dummy at your service.’
‘Ha! There’s no way of knowing if you’re telling the truth.’
‘I don’t lie.’ Unless you count omissions, of course.
‘After last night, I’m not sure I can trust you.’
‘Okay, right.’ I nod as though considering her point of view. Then pop the button on my shorts.
‘What are you doing?’ Her tone is a little scandalised, her eyes flicking between my crotch and my face.
‘Getting the barometer out,’ I answer evenly, pulling on the zipper.
