His smooth, slightly sweaty thumb stroked the corner of my bottom lip, and I felt one knee nudge, very gently, between mine.
For a second I froze, and a fluttering panicked nausea rose up, choking me. Then something inside me seemed to snap, and I slid abruptly down off the stool, barging past him so fast that the wine slopped and spilled onto the concrete.
"Sorry," I stammered. "So sorry, let me. I´ll get the cloth -"
"It´s fine," he said. He was not an iota discomfited, only amused at my reaction. He stayed in place, half sitting, half leaning comfortably against the bar stool, as I grabbed a dishcloth and mopped at the floor between his legs.
For one second I looked up at him, and he looked down, and the quip I´d heard a thousand times, always accompanied by ribald laughter, flashed through the back of my mind. While you´re down there, love...
Oh, my ... What kind of a nanny is she?
At this point I´m really struggling with the premise of this book. The whole story is told as a letter to a solicitor, a letter with 300+ pages! There is absolutely no way that a lawyer would sit down and have the patience to read the "life story" of this nitwit of a woman. This doesn´t make sense.
Thankfully, I´m still intrigued by the story. I have absolutely not the faintest clue what is going on, but one thing is for sure: the main character has to go down.
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