Page 35 of Double or Nothing

My feet are still carrying the heavy weights of the rational, but they keep on moving. They can’t stop.

Once I’m through that door, I know there’ll be no turning back. His magnetism will only hype up tenfold, but it’s Alice’s laugh that possesses me. The glimmer in her eyes as she waits for me to cross the threshold.

I take one final deep breath before I do.

Lord, help me.

Alice whoops in joy when she sees the open plan brilliance of Jack’s apartment. It looks like the kind of spread you’d expect from a Playboy penthouse. The interior decor is minimalistic, and neutral, at contrast with the glorified, gold rimmed, statement piece mirrors on every wall.

Apart from the TV wall, that is. That wall looks like it’s a TV all on its own.

His furniture is all low slung and leather, and the white gloss of his kitchen worktops is undoubtedly pure marble. His appliances are jet black and immaculate, far too pristine for him to be a home chef kind of guy. I somehow doubt he cooks up a roast dinner on a Sunday afternoon.

Still, this place suits him in all his opulence. His apartment says a thousand words with barely a few.

“What do you think?” Jack asks her.

“It’s bloody marvellous. Suave as hell.”

He has his arms open wide as he does a spin next to the coffee table.

“Guess it suits me, then.”

I get a shiver up my spine when she shakes her head, just a touch. I recognise the sparkle of mischief in Soul Girl’s eyes as she looks our Loverboy up and down.

“Suits the part of you who wants to chill out and watch TV, or crack open champagne for a bit of fun time, yeah. But the other parts… the deeper parts…” She tips her head. “This isn’t a home. Not for you. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, Alice. Are you an interior designer as well as an artist? If so, maybe I should hire your services.” Jack slumps down onto one of the sofas, his legs spread wide. Unabashed and unoffended. “I could do with some cushions that match my mirrors.”

Her eyes are still fixed on him, and I can practically hear the cogs whirring in that pretty head of hers, trying to weigh him up.

Maybe she’ll have better luck than me on that score.

“You’re an art lover, right?” she says, and he nods.

“Sure am.”

“So, where is all the character? All the depths of your soul?” She pauses. “Have you just moved in or something?”

Jack holds his hands up, cracking a grin.

“Damn, you got me. I thought I had this place nailed pretty well as my forever abode, but you saw straight through it.”

Her eyes light up.

“I did?”

He nods.

“I only moved in three weeks ago. Three weeks ago last Tuesday. I’ve yet to make it a home. Thought it looked pretty impressive on its own merit, though. Don’t hold it too bad against me.”

Alice laughs.

“No, no! There’s nothing wrong with it, whatsoever. It’s fine as fuck. It’s just… yeah. It needs more you in it. Just a touch.”

Jack leans back against the couch, spreading his suit jacket. The swell of his crotch is blatant.

“I personally think what it needs right now is more you in it, and plenty of touching. I want to feel the depths of your sweet pussy as well as the vibrant overspill of your soul. How about that, La Femme Artiste? You going to play nice and dirty in my fresh, new place? Put some life into it?”