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“I’ll bank them,” I said. “Save them for later. Make it a long weekend.”
Elena stared at me. Then she started to laugh, a real helpless laugh, and sank back onto the cushions with her hand over her face.
“You’ve won ten minutes of absolute power over me,” she said, “and you want to save it. Like air miles.”
“I want to use it wisely.”
“Oh, you are such a Libra.” She wiped her eye. “Fine. Banked. But banked time earns interest, Mark. Look it up. That’s how banks work.” She stood, stretched, and the hoody rode up over her stomach in a way that I tried, and failed, to ignore. “Every minute you hold back, I get two. Which means you’ve just given me twenty.”
“That’s not how interest works.”
“It is in this flat.” She picked up the black holdall from beside the sofa, where it had been sitting all along. I hadn’t noticed. She unzipped it and tipped out a set of cuffs, a blindfold, a little bottle of oil. “I’ve been very patient. I’ve been planning this since the day you mentioned wanting to try something.”
“I mentioned it once.”
“After a bottle of wine. Which I wrote down.” She held up the blindfold and tilted her head at me with enormous kindness. “So. You can ask me exactly how much interest, or you can use your ten minutes right now, while I’m gloating. I’d say I’m at my most beatable.”
She was. She was flushed, grinning, off balance, and holding a blindfold in one hand.