Read 62 Days for Free Online Page B

simple and neat and in a box with a bow. I’m thinking I might be up for it now with the wine buzz and her unsubtle persuasion. No relationship expectations. Not thinking any further than Paris. Just a quick and sexy one nighter and a trip up the Eiffel Tower. End of. Yes. Actually looking forward to it now. Especially going up the Eiffel Tower. Maybe even the sex too.
    She goes off home at 10pm and I sit on my bed thinking about it all. As I think a message arrives from Mark.
    “ Can you get Friday or Monday off? Too much to do in Paris for a one night stay.”
    He’s very presumptious. He’s assuming I’m going… and it seems like my quick and sexy has just doubled up. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not at this stage. Still, in for a penny…
    “ Friday is better. I’ll let you know.”
    “ Also need your full name for ticket.”
    “ Rachel Olivia Collins, but you can call me Ray.”
    “ Night Ray.”
    I climb into bed with a smile on my face. A naughty smile. I actually go off to sleep with it stuck like glue and it’s got nothing to do with the bottle of Rioja I had drunk tonight.

SIX
    Sitting at work the next day, being granted my Friday off and having told Mark the good news, I am suddenly aware that I have things to do before I can go. I have to dig out my unused new passport, wherever it is… I have to find some suitable outfits and give myself some bodily attention. I book myself in for tomorrow evening at the beauticians. I need to get hottie ready. The full monty. Leg waxing. Bikini line. Eyebrows. Facial. Manicure and pedicure. If I’m going to roll around with a hot millionaire, I need to look the part. I try and forget the fact he’s already seen me almost naked. The next time he sees me I’ll be blindingly perfect and he’ll forget the other me he saw before.
    I end up working really late. It’s 7.30pm before I finish the pile of most urgent stuff on my desk. I decide to pop in and see mum and dad on the way home to tell them about my dirty weekend away. Mum is very pleased to see me and gives me a hug on the doorstep. We go in the living room for some tea and biscuits. Dad’s out at his water colour art class.
    “ Ray, it’s so nice to see you smiling…” I don’t tell her exactly why I’ve been smiling for a whole day, that’s not mum friendly information.
    “ Yeah, I’m off to Paris Friday… I’m looking forward to it.” I crunch my biscuit noisily. I’m really hungry. Might get a Chinese meal to take home. Haven’t had one for months.
    “ Really? Who are you going there with?”
    “ The good looking property millionaire I mentioned before.”
    “ Ha ha… you’re a one. Seriously though, is it a friend or a boyfriend you’re going with?”
    “ It’s a friend mum, a very good friend.” Of the male variety, but I’ll keep it all vague for now.
    She still doesn’t believe her daughter could attract a millionaire. Nor do I. Low self esteem. Actually no self esteem.

SEVEN
    As I lay in the beauticians being tortured on Wednesday evening I wonder if the sex I might get is going to be worth the pain I am now feeling. I have never had a wax in my life and never will again. I hope Mark appreciates my smoothness because it is about as painful as burning myself all over with an iron. I flinch as the each strip of cooled wax is ripped off my protesting tender flesh. I try not to cry out in agony. Giving birth couldn’t be more painful than this, surely? Why can’t hairy legs be sexy? They haven’t even got round to the bikini line yet. I shudder at the thought and bite my tongue for some pain diversion.
    Thankfully the manicures and facial which followed the ultimate torture session are blissful and I float away in a handy, facey haze as they massage and primp and pamper. The eyebrow waxing and tidying is a walk in the park compared to what went on around the bikini line a few minutes ago.
    I never knew I could squeal so loudly.

EIGHT
    I’m sitting perched on my