Lust Quest Read Online Free PDF Page A

seemed relieved.
     
    “Are you two good friends?” I asked, downing yet another vodka.
    “Mates,” he smiled. “There's a difference.”
    “Is
    there?”
    “He's more of an acquaintance than a friend. To be honest, he's more of a pain in the arse than an acquaintance. He follows the band around. A sort of hanger-on.”
    “He must like the music,” I proffered.
    “He likes the free drinks he gets when he tells the bar staff that he's our roadie.
    Would you like another vodka?”
    “I've had too much to drink as it is,” I giggled girlishly, and then changed my mind. “Oh, go on then,” I said, deciding to drown my sorrows. “One more won't hurt.”
     
    Feeling dizzy as Alan went to the bar, the room beginning to spin round, I knew that I shouldn't drink anymore. But, after the disappointing news from the literary agent, I decided to have a good time. I needed to get out and about and meet people, I again reflected. Especially if I was going to write erotic fiction. But a good time didn't mean pulling my knickers down and having my arse done. God, what an awful expression.
     
    “So, what do you do for a living?” Alan asked as he brought the drinks to the table and sat opposite me.
    “I'm a writer,” I replied, knowing from experience what he'd ask me next.
    29
    “What do you write?”
    “Books,” I smiled, wondering what to say in response to the next inevitable question.
    “What sort of books?”
    “I ... I write romantic fiction but haven't been published yet. My agent ...”
    “You've got an agent?” he interrupted me eagerly.
    “Sort of. He's seen my novel and has turned it down so, technically, he's not my agent. He wants me to write ... He wants me to spice up my work.”
    “Sex?”
    “Yes.”
    “And that's not what you want?”
    “No, it's not.”
    “Don't do it, Jade,” he advised me, hooking his hair behind his ears for the umpteenth time. “Write what you want to write, not what ...”
    “The thing is, I need the money,” I confessed, wondering why he didn't have his hair cut. “It's all very well writing what I want, but if it's not commercial and doesn't earn money, there's no point.”
    “There's
    every point.”
    “Alan, what's the use in spending all day every day writing and not earning a penny? I'd starve, wouldn't I?”
    “Yes, but ... I suppose you're right. It just seems a shame to have to churn out that sort of stuff.” He paused, his dark eyes staring at me. “Romantic fiction and sex
    ... Can't you bring an element of sex into the romance? After all, the two go together.”
    “They want more than an element of sex. They want unadulterated filth.”
    “Oh, I see. What are you going to do?”
    30
    “Finish my drink, go home and have some coffee, and then think about it.”
    “I wish you luck. Whatever you do, don't give up writing. Oh, about Saturday
    ...”
    “I'll be here.” I hesitated, pondering on the thought roaming my head. I was about to make a big mistake, I was sure. But I went ahead anyway. “Do you want to come back for coffee?” I finally asked. “Just coffee.” Coffee, not sex .
    “OK, thanks,” he beamed, finishing his drink.
     
    Walking home, I wondered what I was letting myself in for as Alan laughed and joked about writing dirty books. I wanted him as a friend, but no more. He'd turned out to be good company and was genuinely interested in my work. I'd enjoyed the evening with him and was looking forward to watching him play in his band on Saturday. But ... but what? My head spinning as the alcohol numbed my brain, I didn't know what to think. I could n't think.
     
    “This is it,” I said, trying not to slur as I led him through the hall and showed him into the lounge.
    “It's a nice place,” he smiled. “Really nice.”
    “I like it,” I mumbled, leaning on the doorframe to steady my swaying body.
    “Ah, Lowry,” he grinned, gazing at the picture above the mantlepiece. “A River Bank. That's one of my favourites.