Free Coco Pinchard, the Consequences of Love and Sex: A Funny, Feel-Good, Romantic Comedy by Robert Bryndza

writing, but I’m protected by all the same laws, you are too.’
    I was lost for words. I looked at Adam.
    ‘Do you want me to move out?’ she asked all wide eyed. Her nipples had now decided to join in the discussion too. They were straining against the material of her kimono like football studs.
    ‘No! No Tabitha. You are very welcome,’ said Adam to her nipples. I went to say something but the door buzzer went.
    ‘Ah. I’m afraid our time is up. That’s my next client,’ she said.
    ‘Client?’ I said.
    ‘I’m a healer,’ she said. I looked from the bed, to Tabitha in her kimono with obviously nothing on underneath.
    ‘What do you heal?’ I asked.
    ‘Oh, everything,’ she said vaguely. The buzzer went again and she ushered us out.
    ‘Let me leave it here so you can think about it,’ I said putting the tenancy agreement down on the hall table. She opened the door to a shifty looking lad of Rosencrantz’s age. His eyes lit up when he saw her bosom.
    ‘Do go through Dean. I’m just finishing up with this couple.’
    ‘Couple?’ he chuckled and nipped past us.
    ‘I promise to think about this,’ she said picking up the tenancy agreement. The door closed behind us. We walked down the steps and onto the street.
    ‘Interesting. So there is such thing as a verbal tenancy agreement.’ said Adam as we walked back.
    ‘That’s what’s interesting?’
    I stopped on the pavement by the crossing and pressed the button. Cars whizzed past. Adam looked at me.
    ‘Adam! She’s a prostitute!’
    ‘She’s a healer.’
    ‘Come off it. Did you see that young lad? There was nothing wrong with him. The only thing her healing hands are doing is unzipping his trousers…’
    ‘No. Not Tabitha,’ said Adam as we crossed the road. Why is it that men have this blank when it comes to women? I don’t know if Tabitha ticks some mother/goddess button for him, but he seemed to think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But I think it would, and very quickly too.
    When we got home I had the horrible realisation that our whole life is being funded from the spoils of prostitution.
    ‘Ok. If she is a prostitute, so what?’ said Adam.
    ‘So what? The food we eat, the bills we pay are all because she does… I don’t want to think what she does.’
    ‘If you look at the world like that, then everything is tainted,’ said Adam. ‘Our banks lend money to fund wars, our phones and computers are made by workers in terrible conditions, that shampoo you use is tested on fluffy animals. Consenting sex, in comparison, is pretty harmless.’
    I went to put a latte capsule in the coffee machine, then dropped it back in the box.
    ‘Coco,’ he said putting his arms round me. ‘Why are you being so prudish?’
    ‘I don’t know. We’re bringing a baby into the world… and I know there are bad things out there… I just don’t want us to be so close to them.’
    ‘Okay let’s spin it another way. If she is a prostitute, which we don’t know for certain, isn’t it a good thing? It’s recession proof.’
    ‘It’s also illegal.’
    ‘So is taping shows of the telly and keeping them… How many illegal episodes of ‘Eastenders’ are you hoarding in those packing boxes?’
    Despite everything I smiled.
    ‘Coco. I’m going to get a job. I always said I would in the New Year. You have a meeting with Angie tomorrow about your new book. We won’t be living on the spoils of prostitution for much longer.’

    Monday 6th February

    I left Adam this morning uploading his CV to job search sites, and took the tube over to see my literary agent Angie. She has finally finished re-modelling her house, a beautiful four-storey home in a quiet, elegant terrace in Chiswick. She opened the door wearing pyjamas, holding a cup of coffee, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
    ‘Hi Angie… We have got a meeting today?’  
    ‘Course Cokes,’ she said using the free side of her mouth. ‘This is the joy of working