‘Don’t the banks close for a four-hour lunch break?’ I suddenly remember.
Oliver nods. ‘Yes. That’s right.’ His eyes are drawn to my chest like magnets, and no wonder. I gaze down to see my nipples are standing to attention and reporting for duty. This flimsy dress is clearly no match for them.
‘Which bank are you with?’ he commands briskly.
After we take a ticket and wait in line at the bank, I take the opportunity to find out a few things about Oliver. I will do it skilfully so that he will barely know that I am collecting information. After all, I do this for a living now. It is my job to find out about my clients without it seeming like an interrogation.
I slyly rake my eyes over Oliver, taking care that he doesn’t notice me doing it. I have trained for this.
He is very well proportioned, I must say, and I am somewhat unaccustomed to feeling such waves of desire.
‘I can see what you’re doing,’ he states matter-of-factly. He is staring straight ahead at the screen above us, as it clicks through numbers, sending people in the queue scurrying over to various desks. A smile is playing on his lips.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ I say in my defence. ‘I am merely queuing like everyone else. I’m notdoinganything.’
Without moving a muscle, he says, ‘I can feel you undressing me with your eyes.’
For goodness’ sake.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous. That’s simply preposterous. Ludicrous.’ I say, mortified that he’s bang on the money. It’s not helping that my voice has risen a few octaves. I have to look away from him as I feel my cheeks flame immediately.
‘See?’ he giggles. ‘You go all turn of the century when you’ve been caught out. It’s hilarious. Now stop staring at me. It’s nearly our turn.’
Such a bossy lawyer-type. It’s hugely appealing. While he turns away to stare back up at the screen, I look at his profile. He must have immense self-control, unless he doesn’t fancy me as much as I fancy him. Imustplay it cool. I must.
Do not speak. Do not. I will try some self-hypnosis.
Thirty seconds go by. It feels like an eternity.
‘Tell me everything about yourself!’ I insist.
‘No, absolutely not,’ he says, turning to grin at me. ‘Look, it’s our turn. Come on.’
I am absolutely buzzing. Oliver and I approach the desk. She gives Oliver an appreciative look and starts clacking away.
Within minutes, she has sourced the problem with the payments and explains that the direct debit for the rent on the office must be renewed annually in person. She gives me a form to fill in and sign, another ticket and tells us to join the growing queue, back over where we just were.
‘Can’t you do it for us now?’ I ask politely in Spanish. I mean I know full well she won’t because the long, drawn-out bureaucracy of even the most straightforward task is all that is holding the Spanish economy together. She gives me an apologetic look as Oliver sighs irritably.
We join the queue again.
‘It’s infuriating,’ he says.
‘And I’m sure you have much more important things to do.’ I feel my mood begin to evaporate.
‘Certainly not,’ he says, catching me off-guard with a wide smile. ‘I’m used to the Spanish doing things the awkward way. Of course, we need to queue all day. This is why people bring packed lunches for a day out at the bank. It’s a cultural thing. If they adopted German efficiency, and combined it with the impatience of the French, then they’d all be out of jobs. The country would run like clockwork, with only a tiny fraction of those currently employed.’
I find his socio-economic commentary highly amusing.
Oliver is a very good influence on my crackpot mood swings. Just looking at him makes me feel lighter and upbeat.
‘We’ll be in here for hours. What do you want to know about me?’
‘Erm, well, erm, just you know,’ I say shyly, suddenly caught on the hop, ‘… just things.’
Are you the romantic type to tell a girl you love her every day? Would you be willing to surprise her and make sure she feels adored? In short, could you see yourself being in love with someone like me? Forever.
‘Things?’ he enquires innocently.Poor fool.
