Hmm. Met Glenn last night in the Cadogan Arms. He was wearing a T-shirt again, under his jacket. It said:’ You Look Like I Need a Drink’. He didn’t smell of alcohol as much as before. There was a cheap aftershave in there somewhere. And chips. And he’d tied his hair back with an elastic band. So I almost didn’t feel embarrassed to be with him.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said, as we sat down. (He’d ordered a tonic water for himself.I had pink bubbles.) He propped his cheek on his hand and stared steadily at me. I got the eerie feeling J had told him exactly how to behave and he was following orders.
It was OK, but I got the feeling his attention was elsewhere. I kept catching him either staring at my tits or winking at one of the barmen. And he got annoyingly restless when I told him about Mirabelle Chanelle. But he must have listened because at the end he said he was dying to see ‘my dear little pussy’. And felt my thigh under the table. I really wasn’t sure Mirabelle would want anything to do with him. I acted on impulse., and as we came out into Sloane Square I saw a taxi and managed to stop it and leap in. He mouthed something as I drove off. It looked rude. He even ran after the taxi.
J is being offish, today, too. She pretended not to see me when I was getting coffee. Don’t know what that’s about.
