“Not that I need a virgin, just someone who hasn’t slept with half the women in London would be good.” Clare said, looking around the room as though she could tell by looking at a man how many women he had experienced in his lifetime.
“That begs the question of how many is too many?” John asked slyly.
“Well, lets be generous. Lets say he’s 30 and has been sowing his wild oats for 10 years. Lets give him five women a year. That makes 50 women in total.”
“That sounds horrible when you add them up like that.” John muttered. It was horrible when he thought about it that way. He had bedded at least twice that many women. Over the last few years it would be about five a year but when he was younger and his blood had been hot, it had been many more than that.
“Precisely. How would you, as an eligible gentleman feel if I’d had fifty lovers?” Clare asked turning to look directly at John.
John saw red. His hands clenched spasmodically at his sides. A ripping jealousy gripped his stomach and he wanted to hurl something.
Never, she would never know any other man. John blinked as the possessive comment passed through his mind.