The Exchange Read Online Free

myself, but now that I’d fled, what was I going to do? What new me was to emerge? Or would the old one linger on, like a skin that I couldn’t quite shed?
    Kyle seemed very nice, and from his conversation I suspected that he and Rachel had been together and that he was still smarting from the break-up. He was a musician, it seemed – a violinist in an orchestra – and while often he was away touring, at that time his schedule was relaxed. He said he’d take me round all the sights, and when I didn’t enthuse, he looked a bit hurt.
    ‘OK,’ I said, as brightly as I could manage. ‘But I need a few days to settle in. I – I need to think a few things through.’
    Kyle frowned at me. ‘Are you OK?’ he said. ‘Are you homesick?’
    I waved a hand airily. ‘It’s not that …’ I tailed off. ‘I mean – well, no, it’s not homesickness. It’s just … well, it’s just that I don’t really know what I’m doing here.’
    ‘But Rachel said it was you who suggested …’
    ‘I did. But I don’t really know why.’
    Kyle smiled. ‘Impulsiveness,’ he said. ‘I like that.’ He studied his fine, long fingers. ‘It’s something I don’t have enough of.’
    ‘Oh?’ I cocked my head to one side.
    ‘In the orchestra my nickname is “Mr Unspontaneity”.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I have to weigh everything up from every angle before I can make a decision or commit to something. It’s like – it’s like a disease.’
    I looked at him, intrigued. ‘I couldn’t be more different,’ I said, wondering what it was like to be so configured. ‘I guess at least you don’t get yourself into trouble that way.’
    Now it was Kyle’s turn to look intrigued. ‘Trouble? What kind of trouble?’
    ‘Oh … you know.’ I shook my head, try to laugh it off. ‘Just stuff.’
    He stared at me. ‘What do you do, in Paris?’ he said.
    I hesitated. ‘Didn’t Rachel tell you?’
    He shook his head.
    ‘I’m an exotic dancer,’ I said.
    He stared harder. ‘A … An exotic … You mean a stripper?’ he managed at last.
    I shrugged. ‘There’s a lot more to it than that.’
    ‘But you – you take your clothes off for men.’
    I nodded. ‘Mainly for men, yes.’
    For a moment he sat there, looking intently at the tips of his brown brogues. I looked away too, out of the window towards the treetops of Hyde Park, fluttering in the breeze.
    When I looked back, he’s was staring at me again. ‘I’ve never met a … an exotic dancer’, he said.
    ‘Then you’ve not lived,’ I countered quickly.
    A half-smile flitted around his lips. ‘Clearly,’ he said, and his eyes held mine. He’s was good-looking, I thought, and yet not at all my type. As I stared back, my mind turned to Konrad and I wondered what he was doing. It was earlyish, still – he was probably in bed after another night at Queen with his model pack of pretty boys, some of them gay, some of them straight, and some of them swinging both ways. That was unless he had a job, of course. But he seemed to have taken a bit of a step back from modelling over the previous few months. He loved the lifestyle but not the discipline, and for the moment he had amassed enough money not to have to worry about going for jobs. He wasn’t the kind of guy to worry about the future.
    Kyle was still looking at me, and in his eyes I saw the first fire of obsession. I knew it so well – I know the effect I have on guys. And for Kyle I must have been like a creature from another planet – unattainable, and thereby exquisitely fascinating. He’d torture himself about me, he’d wank with images of me in his head, all the while knowing that we were about as far apart as it’s possible to be.
    As if he had access to my thoughts, he stood up. He was still looking at me, but suddenly his eyes were far away.
    ‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘But just give me a call when you’re ready for me to show you around.’
    I nodded and smiled, and I saw him out, wondering if