Adam & Eve (Eve's Room) Read Online Free PDF

to a corner table.
‘What happened last night, tell me everything’ I asked eagerly
'We met, we fucked, I left' she replied, eyes darting around to make sure nobody could hear. She was always beautifully blunt about matters of the heart.
‘Will you see him again? Did you leave your number?’ I asked
‘You know I only leave my number as a tip for guys who make me cum. He didn't deserve a tip.’
‘Does he know where you work? What if he walks past and sees you and comes in?’
‘I'll use my classic excuse; my auntie’s cousin’s step son’s best friend’s neighbour’s cat died’
‘You must drive these guys mad’ I said, amazed
‘Yeah, give me a sane man and I'll cure him for you. Black coffee?’
‘Latte’
‘Latte?’ she raised her eyebrows in surprise ‘What about the detox? Don't you have some sachets of powdered glamour you stir into a glass of water or something?’
‘Sachets of cyanide, free in this week’s Vogue . Can I have my latte with full fat milk please?’
‘Nothing tastes a good as skinny feels’ she said, raising her eyebrows in pretend warning
‘Except croissants. I'll have two, as w ell as the latte’ I grabbed the Times from the nex t table and scanned the headlines.
She leant forward, gave me a kiss on the cheek, then strutted off to bash about loudly on the coffee machine.
I was absorbed in an article about the success of Fifty Shades of Grey when Alice returned with the latte— a love heart on its smooth creamy surface— and two croissants on a plate with butter and jam. One of the croissants had a bite out the end. I glanced up and saw Alice chewing mischievously.
‘Help yourself’ I said , hitting her playfully in the side.
'Have you read that?' she asked, prodding the article
'Of course not, if my professors caught me reading it they'd throw me down a fucking well and pour burning oil over me .'
'Who was your professor who came in here last time?’
'Professor Jonas? The young Swedish one with the thick rimmed glasses? He's fuckable, yet married'
'Since when did that matter? I’d still fuck him. I haven’t fucked an intellectual in… Christ, have I ever fucked an intellectual?’
'There was that shy one you met at the gallery opening’
‘Oh yeah, Tim the sculptor. The after-sex pillow talk was deep, I miss that. I remember him asking me what I think happens after I die as he peeled the condom off. Intellectuals always talk about death. He was too scared to show me his art though. Never a good sign.’
We paused in thought, the orchestra on the radio reached a crescendo, then the café door swung open and in walked one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen in my life. He was tall and broad shouldered with neat blonde hair and a golden tan. He wore blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons popped o pen showing a glimpse of chest. A silver chain around his neck glinted in the light . His shirt was just tight enough to see the definition of the muscles beneath. He frowned as his eyes adjusted from the brightness of the street to the dimness of the café. Alice and I followed him with our gaze as he slinked between the tables and came to a halt at the counter. I slapped Alice on the shoulder, breaking the spell. She got up, hurried over and served him, her voice a little higher than normal. I took a bite of soft croissant and a sip of hot coffee and tried and focus on the newspaper, but Alice kept giggling, and there's nothing more distracting than hearing your best friend giggle with a man you want to be making you giggle. I glanced over, she was fluttering her eyelashes and handing him a free sample of brownie with a pair of tongs. He took the brownie, popped it in his mouth, nodded his head appreciatively and said something that made Alice giggle again. Then he turned and peered around the café. All the other tables were free, yet his gaze fell on the empty chairs around me. I quickly looked down at the Times as he strolled towards