Chapter four, Monday:21ndctober2013, the middle part, keeping up? This part is current, no more time travel.
I have to call Daniel I have 7...no, 8 missed calls on my phone from him and I haven't even checked my email, what should I say?
PF: “Still OK for later, you won’t believe what I’ve got to tell you” another new Porsche I bet.
TC: “Yep, can’t wait to hear the thing you won’t tell me on the phone” nothing beats a Landrover, but I promise to oooh and aaahhh for my friend.
PF: “Don’t even try guessing” too late, she wants a white one next.
TC: “A face to face, must be important” true story, Pete is not good at holding news in usually, she’s a let it all out and deal with it type. Quite the opposite of me.
PF: “See you later” OK.
I am coming down the glass lift with a cup of tea in one hand, my phone in the other, a great view over the canal. I sometimes sit by the waterfront watching the ducks during lunch, just to get away from all the stupidity from upstairs. I don’t have the head for politics, I don’t care enough to worry about where I stand in their schemes, I just know I do what I do, better than anyone, they like me, but they don’t get what I actually do at all, and that’s a strange type of power. Happy in this thought I sit myself on a wooden slatted bench beside a barge, a trail of grey smoke swirls into the air, the smell of a wood burner coming from inside. I love that smell. I pull my parka tight around my body it almost goes around me twice. Sip my tea, whose lid is not quite keeping it hot and watch as a pair of geese swim past with their almost grown-up babies. Taking my phone out I attempt to placate everyone by at least answering some text messages.
It's hard being me.
TC: “Daniel, sorry I haven’t replied to your messages, I’ve been swamped” not exactly true, but I did make lots of tea today, I look down at my cup, yes lots of good work done today.
DP: “Drinking tea takes priority then? Well at least I know what’s important to you” how the fu..?
I almost drop my tea…well almost. I grip the cup tighter just in case.
I have the feeling someone’s close by. “Hello.” And Daniel sits next to me on the bench, casual and confident, smelling great, with a huge warm friendly smile. Trying to keep the shock from my face but my mouth is still open from being about to take a slurp of tea when he appeared, he offers his hand to me, but I’m struck with silence, not at all like me. My lips part but no sound comes out, I look at the hand I suspected is reaching out to shake mine but instead he is offering a large bag of giant chocolate buttons...also a favourite of mine. Such a contrast, this manly man, smelling great with tattoos and a car waiting offering me Cadbury's chocolate buttons! I glance numbly at my phone, still mute, like me, and put it away.
"Daniel,” I try but fail to hide my surprise, “what are you doing here?" I take a few buttons, well? Not even I have the will power to say no to Cadbury's buttons...
"You didn't return my calls or e-mails,” he puts a button in his mouth...that mouth, stop it! “I came to offer you buttons as a consequence." A chocolate punishment eh? I must try to piss him off more often then.
His face smiles with a warmth that makes me wonder if he is genuinely worried about me. And shoves a few buttons into his mouth, that gorgeous mouth...stop it...again! Bloody hell, I can't even recall a dressage movement. "Oh...yes, I just didn’t want to call you until I was certain what to say Daniel, it's a big move."
Really? You don't even believe that Tharie. Stop talking to yourself. You don't want him knowing you're weird. Least, not yet anyway.
"From this..?" He looks up at my huge glass building, where I work on the 5th floor, and back at me. He is right, there's no comparison, what was the real reason for not committing myself to this project. I looked at him directly, that answers the question for me. But still I hear very feint warning bells in my head, yes, quite distant really.
Note to self, find out how to disengage that alarm like all the rest. Can't bear anything that beeps, buzzes or rings. True story.
He takes my hand in his, back to the moment, waves to his driver he'll just be a minute, "please, Tharie, come and work with me, we'd be good together I can feel it can't you?" His words catch in my throat, swirl around my head, Ping-Pong around a bit more and dissipate away.
"OK," I answered feebly, “I’ll hand my notice in today.” I take a few more buttons, well I’m only human.
"Great, I’ll see you tomorrow." Daniel gets up to go, deal done.
I stand, "I have to work my notice Daniel,” I say to his retreating back, he turns briefly back to me, I’m gesticulating madly with my phone, “three months with some holiday due I might get it down to two." I am suddenly frantic that he'd be disappointed and find someone else. But he simply laughs. Ooh, that's nice to look at.
"Don't worry about that Tharie, my family own this company, and you can leave whenever you want, I’ll make sure you're released from your contract.” Bloody hell. He shoves his hands deep into his Crombie pockets and moves closer to me, we just stand there looking at each other. Then looking down at his feet, and with a low seductive voice, “nobody can really hold you,” he looks directly into my face, those beautiful pools of coolness and aqua. “...anywhere you don't want to be." Unflinchingly calm, he makes the words sound dirty or is that the effect he is having on me? Stunned, as the level of wealth this man must be used to hit me, used to getting his own way I expect too. Strangely I don’t seem to mind that idea either, I never understood the obsession with money.
G, halt, immobility, salute. Thank goodness, the dressage is back, I'm going to need it.
He takes my hand as if to shake it, as two of my colleagues walk by to the sandwich shop, staring at this beautiful man at my side. Probably wondering what the hell I am doing with him, perhaps he's lost and asking for directions. I may have some self-esteem issues?
Note to self, call Dr Shrink for an appointment.
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses me gently on my knuckles, quite old-school but I like it. Wonder if he likes the Walton’s? "Congratulations Tharie,” his eyes lift to mine, blimey those eyes, what did he say? Is anyone taking notes for me, brain? “Dinner tonight? My treat?" He stares at me, his gaze not leaving until an answer is given, used to the power he exerts over people, I am determined not to be one of them. Then I look back at him and of course I cave, well I’m still only a girl, and I do have to eat, Mum says so remember?
"Oh, OK." I answer, what am I saying OK to, not just dinner, brain?!!! He's making me feel warm and horny, my sex trembles and my temperature elevates, my nerves start to shake, and before I can utter another word, he drops my hand and heads back to his car.
Connection broken. Exit at C.
Calling back over his shoulder, “I’ll pick you up from your cottage at 8pm tonight.” He smiles, a warm gracious sexy smile, “does that give you enough time with the horses?” Did he really ask that? Respect, I like it. He pauses, rushes back to me, stands close to my body, we are touching, I catch my breath, and whispers in my ear, so close that I feel his warm breath down my neck. A chain reaction begins, and cascades through my whole body, “I’m hard for you Tharie.” He moves into me much closer, “right now,” and against my neck in a hot breathy whisper, “feel what you do to me.” I can feel his cock, rock hard, as he moves into me closer still, lightly kissing my neck, before moving away in an instant. Bet he's glad for that Crombie today, my head says all to itself. True story. Plus, it is quite cold.
Almost without breath I feebly answer, not sure what to say, "But I haven't given you my address!" Now slightly worried, and my body aches for him to touch it, but he's striding away in that purposeful manner, graceful and powerful.
"I know where you live Tharie, don't worry, I’m a resourceful type." I bet you are. Snapping out of my funky mood as he speaks my name, I recall I have something I need to tell him. I leap up suddenly and try to catch him, just remembering, I have plans tonight with Pete, I’d totally forgotten. Too late to catch him now. She had said she needed to talk to me, I’ll make the call. Resourceful indeed I said to myself as his car slides off noiselessly down the road, a stalker type, but I liked it.
TC: “Help, I need help” I’m not exaggerating either.
PF: “Haven’t I been telling you that for years, what for now?” She’ll love this challenge.
TC: “Daniel, I can’t concentrate” I wonder if there’s a pill I can take, shake the thought away, nothing a cup of tea won't cure, or at the very least calm.
PF: “I’m sending over some Agent Provocateur by bike messenger, I’m guessing it's an emergency” she's good, very good.
TC: “You went lingerie shopping for me?” She’s very, very good. Next bottle is on me.
PF: “I always keep new underwear in my drawer at work, just in case” It's for that girl in advertising she likes? She’s good.
TC: “Is that Pete's ‘tip of the week’? She should write for Cosmo.
PF: “Most women do it Tharie” really? Bloody hell, all I have in mine is lip balm, a horse magazine and a box of extra strong plasters. Wonder why I’m single.
TC: “So why am I only now hearing about it?” I already know the answer, this is going to hurt isn't it?
PF: “Honey, you didn’t ever need this advice before” bloody hell.
TC: “Cheeky swine” true story, but she’s right.
PF: “You need all the help you can get honey, good luck” what does she mean? I won’t see him now until tomorrow.
TC: “Am I your new challenging project?” Do I really want to know?
PF: “One I’ve been planning for years!” What!!?
TC: “I need help don’t I?” True story.
PF: “Like no one else I know, just another way you’re so special babes” aaahhh, nice, I think?
I fetch myself a cup of tea, instantly feeling better.
Back at my desk I decide to send a text, and with my phone in my hand my fingers fly over the keypad:
TC: “Thank you for offering me a job Daniel” true story, plus he is so hot.
DP: “Welcome, you'll not disappoint I’m sure” that sounds leading, I decide I like it. Plus, he's very hot.
TC: “I aim to please Daniel Pearce” I mean it too. Did I mention how hot he is?
DP: “What are you doing right now?” Bet you'll ask me what colour my underwear is next, suddenly I remember, god no!
TC: “What are you asking?” Work for it.
DP: “Would you prefer I was just taking?” God yes.
TC: “Is this your idea of a sext?” Because I like it.
I have to sign for a package, it's from Pete, bloody hell.
DP: “Where are you?” Where do you think? I slurp my tea.
TC: “At my desk” need to make more tea.
DP: “I’m going to f*ck you every chance I get” I confess to liking the sound of that.
I decide to try on my new lingerie, it fits perfectly, and isn't like any underwear I've ever worn, honestly, it's not a comfortable as Spiderman pants, but I won't fall at this first hurdle. Its fine black lace, sculpted to fit under my breasts not over them, just covering my nipples, and matching high knickers like shorts, with little black velvet bows on both. Probably to remind me to wear them together eh? I feel different in them, and fold them delicately back in the little waxed pink box.
TC: “Romantic. Is this what it's going to be like? You always getting what you want?” I like the sound of that too, what's suddenly gotten into me?
DP: “Always” that’s so hot, I’m actually squirming in my seat.
TC: “Well. I'm at work” true story unfortunately.
DP: “I’ll have you over your desk” there’s too much on it for that, always practical, comes from being a Brownie.
TC: “Think my colleagues might have something to say about that!” They’d love it, who am I kidding?
Need tea urgently.
DP: “They can watch” it’d be on You Tube, seriously.
TC: “That sounds interesting” it really does.
DP: “You have no idea” but I can guess.
DP: “Yet” nice.
TC: “You'll have to wait” can I? How far in a cab to his office?
DP: “You won’t have to” I hear in stereo, bingo.
“Tharie.” And I turn suddenly at the sound of his close by voice, Daniel is standing in the design room phone still in his hand. Everyone is looking at this handsome man, wearing a dark charcoal suit, looking gorgeous, and staring only at me. “Come.” He demands, well who am I to say no to my new boss? Without any preamble I get straight up and put my coat on, grab my bag, fail to notice all the faces agape around me, and hurry after him. He grabs me around the wrist and leads me to the lift without another word. Was I supposed to be in a meeting right now....? Don't care...
“You must have been in the building?” I ask as the door slide shut behind us.
“Close by.” He looks at me smoulderingly, and I melt inside and almost lose my footing and fall to the floor. Luckily the lift has a sturdy chrome bar wrapped along the inside, and I cling to it all the way down. Like I intend to do to him the first chance I get!
We arrive in Daniel's car to a modern building 'Pearce Hotel', slipping into an underground car-park, and we drive up a gentle curving slope into a parking space, there's only four spaces, all with initials painted on them, we park in the DJP space. Stan opens my door for me and I try to get out with a little glamour, but fail. Daniel takes my hand and we head to a lift with only one button, 'PENTHOUSE'. Bloody hell.
We say nothing as the silver box transports us up to the top floor. It stops with a hiss, I scuff my boots on the plush carpet, nervously, Daniel takes my hand and smiles at me. The doors of the lift open directly into the lobby of the penthouse suite, it smells of Daniel here. I take a lung full.
Dark wooden floor, a shiny polished round table in the centre, a huge vase of white roses sits on top, and a faint whiff of magnolia in the air. Daniel leads me through the first room into the open space living room and kitchen. We are on the roof, the whole side of the room is glass and beyond a decked terrace with olive trees, in huge grey pots swaying gently in the breeze, several huge glass lanterns sit around an intimate sitting area with table and chairs. Candles, huge and vanilla sit everywhere over the planked dark surface, and unlit fairy lights in the trees and small Turkish ornate lanterns sway on branches ready to be lit.
“Wine?” Daniel asks, walking to the kitchen and taking a bottle from the rack.
The living space is down a few steps into a massive wide room, cream leather sofas sit in a semi-circle around an ornate low table, and at one end a white velvet Chesterfield studded chaise lounge, its ornately carved black frame is beautiful, as is everything here. At the other end a huge black Grand piano, with a simple silver candlestick sitting on top overlooking some sheet music.
“Please.” I'm still amazed by the place. To the opposite side of where Daniel is pouring dark red into glasses with bowls so wide they could house a goldfish (thankfully not), is a bedroom with the double doors wide open so I can clearly see in. Bloody hell. I want this don't I? The bed itself is huge, the sheets black, the floor dark wood again.
I wander over to the window and look out over Regents Park, nice view. Daniel is silently behind me passing me a glass of wine. “Great view.” We both sip from our glasses, saying nothing. Then I feel his hot breath on my cheek, he hums to himself as he breaths me in, and kisses me feather-light on my neck just below my ear. A cascade begins, unstoppable from my ears to my toes. It feels like a warm liquid has been poured over me inside, delicate and divine, I tremble.
Daniel takes my glass from me and puts them both on the table, on coasters of course.
“Baby, are you sure you want this?” he whispers sincerely. I'm a little confused, I'm here aren't I? But he's just being respectful, and that makes it hotter somehow. He touches my hair, runs his fingers down my cheek slowly, always looking directly into my eyes, his pupils dilating to dark. He cups my chin and tilts my face upward to him. Holding me there, paused as if to give me the chance to react negatively to his question. “I'm going to f*ck you Baby.”
“I want you to Daniel.” Because he needs my permission.
Daniel closes his eyes momentarily, and kisses my softly on the lips. Our mouths fit to each other perfectly, our tongues wrapping around each other’s, we both relax and our kissing deepens. He has the front lapels of my coat in his fists and is sliding the khaki twill from my shoulders, and it falls with a soft 'whoomph' to the ground where it's ignored. He has my cheeks in his hands tenderly, smiling, he plants gentle soft warm kisses all over my eyelids, down my cheeks to me ear. He bites my lobe gently and sucks me into his mouth. Oh God, this feels so good. My sex is scorching hot and trembling, the heavy feeling planting me to the spot so Daniel can work on me. Bloody hell. He takes off his suit jacket and throws it to the sofa (well, it's Prada.) I wriggle his tie to loosen it, get frustrated and pull it over his head. He grabs the hem of my padded shoulder sweat top and it's joined the parka on the floor. “Daniel?”
“Yes baby?” Baby? I decide I like that. He's kicking off his pointy boots and undoing my jeans.
“Is this how you get girls to obey, bring them here to clinch the deal?” I close my eyes, his mouth is kissing my breasts.
“Will it work?” He gently clamps his teeth around my nipples in turn, and another, intense almost painful pull begins inside me, from nipple to there.
“I've already said yes, you didn't need to do this, for me.” My eyes are shut, my head tilted back, opening my frame for him to enjoy, a welcome, a permission.
“This has nothing to do with work baby, it's you I want.” His hands are in my jeans, cupping my buttocks, squeezing and lifting me toward him. Our bodies bump together, and his cock is straining at the Italian wool. I undo his belt and slide it through all the belt loops and add it to the pile beginning to build on the floor. His shirt is next, one tiny button after the next, I pull the tails of the hem free from his waistband and let it fall.
Daniel kisses my nose, my lips, my chin, my breasts and bends to kiss my tummy, it's soft and seductive, my body alight and all my senses in play. He takes my jeans off on his way down and plants kisses all the way. His tongue flicks in and out of my navel as he grasps my buttocks hard, bringing me closer to his face. My knickers and denim come off in a flourish and he lips fine the spot, my small mound and cleft throbbing expectantly, wet and ready. He licks me agonisingly slowly, taking his time, flicking its clever end over my * and I begin to build. He sucks my flesh into his mouth and an incredible feeling continues unstoppable inside me, beautiful, sweet, warm. He blows hot air over my sex and I almost fall to earth with the feeling. He reaches up and rips off my bra, my hands are in his hair, he is adding pressure with his tongue and my whole body bucks to him with pleasure, he hums pleasurably to himself. Happily failing to notice a small piece of hay floating slowly to join the pile of clothes on the floor.
Standing he grabs my wrist, kicking off the trousers onto the floor and both naked we cross the room, past the Steinway, “Stella.” He tells me. I didn't realise pianos had girls names. We enter the bedroom. Its cooler in here, thank fully. He lifts me up and carries me to the bed, laying me gently on the covers. And prowling in a predatory crawl over me I am at his mercy. He kisses me and his fingers continue where his lips once were, gently and quickly flicking a rubbing, my orgasm not far from breaking over me, his fingers slide into me, one, then three, agonisingly wonderful sensation drenches me. I have his huge hard cock in my hand, and fist around its magnificent form I flick my thumb over the crown, rubbing and sliding in the pre-cum on its end. His fingers move faster in response.
“Come inside me.” I beg.
“Wait.” He closes his eyes tight as his fingers thrust into me harder and slower, keeping my finality on the brink, disallowing me an end to his sugary sweet torture of my body. His fingers slip out of me, slick with my wetness and he licks them muttering happily. That almost sends me over but Daniel knows exactly what he's doing, and I fall back unsatisfied and yearning yet again.
“Please Daniel.” I beg him again, beginning to pump my fist along the length of his cock making a point I am hoping he gets it. He smiles at me, kisses me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth in a frenzy, tweaking my nipples in his clever fingers, my body begins its journey to fulfilment again. He sways over me pulling his hard penis from my fist, kisses my neck, and I suddenly I feel his cock engage with my waiting sex. He pushes slowly into me, all the way in, jerks to the end so I feel it hard inside me. It's delicious, and he begins pumping into me, slowly at first, my hips involuntarily raising to meet him, grinding into him and enjoying every single inch of him. Faster now, steady and hard, building, now unstoppable, I feel my orgasm is near, the sensation of my nerves jumping together gets closer and closer, the distance between my spasms of pleasure increasing in strength and getting repetitively near to completion. Then with a final deep thrust, he lets out a great groan emptying himself into me, and together we climax, exhausted and sated.
Wonder if there's room-service?
“Baby, what are you doing to me, I was supposed to be the other side of town?” Daniel gently sweeps my tangled hair from my damp face, and kisses me on the lips.
“From where I was laid, it was you doing things to me.” I wink at him, and kiss his beautiful lips so he knows I'm OK.
“Tea?” Bloody hell, I'm going to fall for this man aren't I?
“Yes please Daniel.”
Daniel picks up the phone next to the bed and dials room-service, as I appraise his tattooed buttocks. Very nice.
After an invigorating lunch in the nearby 'Pearce Hotel', apparently it's owned by the family, I return a little sore, completely satisfied, happy and smiling and tired back to the office.
TC: “Thank you for lunch” true bloody story.
DP: ”Until next time” god I really hope so.
Note to self, (and Pete), boys don't really care about Spiderman pants in a sexual emergency. Thank goodness.
Deep breath again, and I spend the rest of the day with a smug smile on my face not really concentrating on my work. Like a teenager in love, get a grip Tharie. I stash my new lingerie in my drawer, but I can't leave it there, it's got to be tried on again, so that's exactly what I do. I have quite literally never felt so sexy, that this man wants me. It makes me appraise myself, and begin wondering about things I have never had to consider before, like underwear.
My phone vibrates and right now I welcome a distraction.
TC: “Hello honey” deep breaths, it's Pete, she'll tell me what to do won't she, it's her job after all.
PF: “How did you leave it with him Tharie, is a relationship possible, or did you do something stupid and are now unsalvageable?” I didn't have hay in my hair if that's what you're driving at. (It was in my bra). Bloody hell.
TC: “Pete..!” How could she possibly know?
PF: “Tharie, what are you not telling me? I have a sense for these things, and let’s face it, you’ve not had a boyfriend in far too long, now, out with it!” She demands, and I can't say now, because somewhere in my head I’m a little ashamed I haven’t told her already.
TC: “We're attracted to each other,” I tell her quietly, though not quietly enough and everyone stops what they're doing and looks over, I wave them off good humouredly and they all laugh. Putting my hand over the receiver and whispering I tell her the truth. “He says he wants to f*ck me!”
PF: “Great!” She says, “When? We need to plan your underwear.” what is she like?
TC: “Pete!” I scold her again, “what are you like?”
PF: “You can't sleep with that man with hay in your bra, or wearing your lucky Spiderman pants! Is what I’m saying.” I direct the reader to please see note above.
I would have been insulted and said so without a second glance back, but she is right, I need help. Sliding my finger across my screen I end the call with Pete, and begin daydreaming which is not like me. Not like me at all.
Tea? Definitely.
Later in chapter four, Monday:21ndoctober2013, the end part.
I call and sort my evening out, it must have skipped my mind at lunch somehow, I feel deeply disappointed that I won’t be seeing Daniel until tomorrow at work, but Pete is Pete and she must come first as always. That's after the horses of course. Oh, and the cats. So, third really. Stop talking to yourself Tharie.
It's late by the time I get home, handing my notice in turned out to be something of a peculiar drama. Strange I think to myself, if they'd made it clear how much they valued me in the first place I might never have found this new opportunity working with Daniel but that's the way life is. And feeling very good about my life I change, feed the cats, pull on my wellies and head out to the yard.
George & Harry are galloping around their field again, its dark I can't see them, but I hear a thundering of hooves and snorting and puffing. They are enjoying themselves, I just hope they don't lose a shoe!
By the time their dinners are mixed and ready, they trot into the yard, in mild irritation, that the thing they were pretending to run away from had ceased causing them fake worry, and therefore shut down the mad moments. Heads in buckets, they settle to eat. I hear their shoes on the concrete floor of my yard, and happy that the correct number of clips and clops are present meaning all the shoes are still on. Steve my farrier will be pleased, he often tells me he doesn't know how they get their shoes off, in all his years as a farrier, no two have had so many re-visits. Told you they are special, didn't I?
It's already gone 7.30pm and I need to get ready for drinks with Pete. Stepping into the shower, I plan my outfit.
HC: “I may have had too much to drink” why am I not surprised?
TC: “It’s the creative prerogative, artists needs nurturing, and that’s exactly what Jack Daniels is for.” True story.
HC: “And I may have left my guitar in a cab” well that’s bad.
TC: “The one signed by Hendrix?” That's Dave 'Hendrix' McCarthy, from the pub, not the musician, his parents were fans. I can understand the confusion though.
HC: “Na, thankfully” good.
TC: “Don’t get into any trouble, or if you really want to, at least wait until after the single is released, or Mum's out of the country” see, I do listen.
HC: “Kidding, the fans will love it if there’s a photo of me resisting arrest!” Sadly, true story.
TC: “Be good” I sound like Mum.
HC: “Not you too!” There you go.
Back in London, the air is chilly and I’m suddenly thankful for my army parka as I stand waiting for Pete's cab to appear. I fumble in my pockets for my phone, forgetting which of the many deep receptacles it’s in.
TC: ”Sorry about tonight Daniel” throw a bone.
DP: “Enjoy your evening with Pete” that’s nice.
I like this man.
Pete is late picking me up as usual "sorry babes," as she asks the cab to drop us in Mayfair, she says in not too sincere a tone, clearly she has something on her mind. "Let's get to the pub, I need wine…right f*cking now." She returns her Chanel lipstick to her beautiful Hermes clutch.
I’m wearing a McQueen mini dress and Chloe over the knee leather boots, all black of course, with my thigh length parka at least five sizes too big for me but I like it that way. Pete tells me I need to eat and I look pale. I am pale.
"I fell off George at the weekend Pete, it bloody hurts all down my side, getting dressed hurts, putting a bra on hurts, climbing up into the Landy hurts..." I want to tell her about the last twenty four hours, the tale can wait for some liquid courage and a bowl of hot chips, that vigorous sex with a stranger also hurts a little too.
"You haven’t asked me about my weekend." Pete chastises me as we sit in a dark corner in the pub. "I met a man." Bloody hell, where's that waiter?
My eyes can't hide the astonished look, I raise an eyebrow "but Pete..."
...."yes, I know" she tells me, "I like girls, but this man..."
Its how Pete and I met actually, she kissed me at a college party, I didn't protest, she is gorgeous. I’d had a few pints of snakebite, but we laughed about it later and have been friends ever since. "Well, tell me then." I ask, sipping from a huge glass bowl with an inch of wonderful deep red Spanish wine, it tastes like Christmas, and I feel warm inside. A trail of velvety smooth berry flavours reaches my brain, and it’s happy.
Pete, clearly enjoying her moment of revelation, tastes her white wine from South Africa, she dips a thick hand cut chip into mayonnaise looks at me and says "I think I’m in love Tharie." I nearly spit out my wine, but my reflexes save me in time, this wine is too good to waste.
"What!" I place my long stemmed glass securely on the table mat, gulp down my mouthful, and speak again slightly less disbelieving "Pete, tell me everything."
She begins the story "I am in the 'Square Bar' in Mayfair with work friends." Pete calls everyone friends, even though they are just work colleagues, just there for fleeting entertainment. "I’m standing by the bar, buying my round and there's this small group by the coats being very loud. Clearly artistic types wearing black, in jeans and band t's with cool floppy hair drinking whiskey, you know, your type of people." She looks at me over the edge of her glass for a reaction. Bloody cheek! My people indeed…what stylish, modern, creative, faintly Gothic? I get it, continue...
"I love that bar" I tell her, "the narrow cobbled walkway, with lights set in the ground leading the way to a covered alley, with seats each side, and lit torches around the bar entrance." I have danced many times in the small underground club, intimate seating under the arches beneath the old building, and a grand piano, though I’ve never seen anyone play it. The logo, a large eagle wings outstretched with a ship in its talons, dark blue ground black ink, like a tattoo drawing intricate and ancient looking. "They have great wine and a good selection of single malts" I laugh.
"Yes...and some very interesting people too." Pete cuts in eyebrows raised, clearly she's anxious to finish her story. "Then this guy leaves his mates and comes to the bar, orders a round of triple JD's straight up," looking at me, "your people." She says. I can't argue.
"Then what happens?" I ask in fake impatience, biting into a steaming hot wedge of fried potato, lots of sea salt sprinkled over it, love salt.
"This guy looks over at me, he is stunning Tharie, I have never seen a boy like it. Well, I’ve got an order of Cosmos’s a couple of sparkling wines and a rose, it's obvious I’m with the girls." She sips her wine with a smirk.
“Big Chris was with you too?” I enquire, sipping my wine.
“Of course, but he's one of the girls too!” She laughs. Big Chris is her friend from work, an extremely funny well-dressed man, who is very camp and bakes Victoria sponges to die for. But it's all a fake, he pretends he's gay, says it makes him more interesting and lets him be himself. Though, he's really not interested in girls either, his Pomeranian is called Butch and wins prizes apparently.
“Anyway,” Pete continues with more than a hint of 'shut up and let me finish', "he looks at my order turns away laughs to himself, 'you with the girls tonight?' He asks me.” Turning again to look at me. "He reaches out to shake my hand, can you believe it? My name is James Pearce, I’m with that rabble." He indicates with his head, "2 brothers, a step brother and 2 friends."
"I looked over, they are now all looking my way and then I realise it's the drinks they're after," one guy shouts "come on J, we’re parched mate, leave the girl alone and bring us some liquid joy." Clearly enjoying herself, she continues with a giggle. “He smiles and takes the drinks to the table by the coats, by my coat. I pay the bartender, and as I turn he is standing right behind me." Pete sips her wine, jerks her brow at me and talks on. "Can I try that again?" He asks me quietly. "My name is James, can I join you for a drink?"
"Well, Tharie, I can't speak, this boy is gorgeous, he's pretty face is talking to me. My lot are waiting for their drinks,” she takes a gulp of wine, “blimey I’ve slept with them all, I could use a new toy."
"I am shocked," I fake “all of them?" I laugh, “Even Big Chris?”
“Well yes, him too, we just wondered what it would feel like. But those women, we've all been together a long time, and I figured what the hell." Pete gets up to order another round, my wine is heating my belly from the insides, my lower lip is getting numb and my brain is fuzzy, and I’ve only had three glasses.
My phone vibrates, I look at the face, it's Daniel, my blood jumps violently in my chest, I am quick to read his text, my heart begins to beat so fast I can feel every pump resonating around my body, I imagine his lips kissing my neck...
DP: "Hope you're not going to have a hangover for your first day at RANDom Tharie!" It says, “red wine should be sipped slowly not gulped down like Ribena!" Startled I look up, I scan the bar looking everywhere without standing up, he's here, watching me, or was it just a guess?
Pete gets back to the table, "the landlord says our drinks are paid for tonight, that was nice of him, he said the bar owner says hello." I wonder? Pete neither knows nor cares what that's all about, she lives in a freebies environment remember?
"Then what happened?” She begins again with renewed gust.
"We sit in a corner half way between my lot and his, the two groups hardly notice one of their members is missing and we chat and drink." He and his brothers come from money I guess several references to Daddy and his business, and Mummy hosting polo matches, of course, it might not be true."
Or it might be, stranger things happen. My mind begins to wander. Stop it!
"Then this guy.” She swirls the wine around the narrow bowl of her glass.
"James.” I interrupt, names are important I think, get the names right, and spell them right too.
"OK, yes James, I let him put his hand on my knee, it's been a long time since I let a guy do that to me Tharie, and I liked it." I have to agree, I like it too.
No good deed goes unpunished. Then?
“We were both pissed by then and started giggling, he said he had a flat nearby and would I like to see the view?" I obviously have a look of disappointment on my face I can’t hide "well, if he has a flat in Mayfair, he must be loaded.” She adds. Probably not wrong.
"Or he could jam you in a cab and drive you anywhere!" I am stunned by my friends’ lack of safety, but she's sitting here telling me this story so I guess it worked out OK.
Note to self: give her a lecture and buy her a whistle too. She won't appreciate my do-goodery, but I don't care.
"Let me finish the story." She's getting louder and impatient.
My phone vibrates again, I glance down.
DP: "She talks a lot your friend doesn't she?" I stand up, where is he? I still see the same crowd, only now they’re staring at me, at us. I sit back down slowly, "sorry Pete, please what happened next?" I'm feeling a little wobbly.
"What's wrong with you?" She asks frustrated at not getting to the good part of her story yet. "Who's texting you?"
I lie "someone from work that's all." She begins protesting, knowing full well I don’t do after school specials and never, ever answer work calls, texts or e-mails in my own time. "I quit my job today” I explained. She just nods at her acceptance of my mood and consequent jumpiness. “I was offered that new position I told you about." I hadn’t wanted to spoil her story but she hugs me congratulations.
“Well done honey, that boy is hot.” At that, we order another bottle of red just to finish the evening. When it comes, it has been paid for and has a little note attached: 'congratulations Tharie, have a lovely time, your next evening is mine. Dx' I quickly stuff the note in my pocket before Pete even notices and breathe a big sigh of relief, perhaps he had been here, but he left us alone, a gentleman, he just got a big tick from me.
Now if he likes Walter Matthau films, curries and girls with wood-chips all over them, we could be married. Bloody alcohol.
"So we walk across Bond Street to a third floor of a beautiful old corner building and he lets us in with a key. ”This must be handy for picking up girls," I say to him, "just across the road from the bar." I roll my eyes in mock disapproval.
"Oh, the bar belongs to one of my brothers Danny, he plays piano and wanted a place to keep it." He smiles, takes my hand and leads me upstairs. Where after another bottle of Merlot, we had partly pissed and rocking, fast and hard, regular but vigorous sex, it was amazing!" She empties her glass and begins pouring another from the bottle, "I had a great time, no fuss, just chat and sex." Sipping from one of the clean glasses that appeared on the table without either of us noticing. “A real cock feels very different from the rubber version.”
“Agreed, but I actually can't remember.” I tell her shaking my head and smiling like a silly person. “Anyway, what did you expect?” How much have I had to drink?
"I think I am in love.” shocked, I almost spit out a slurp of wine. Pete continues, “he's asked me to have lunch with him tomorrow." I start to say something very sensible and while my mouth is still open, "and I said yes!" Pete looks very pleased with herself. "I haven’t told the girls!” she giggles happily. She takes a large gulp of red wine, and we both watch as the 'legs' trail back down the inside curve of the enormous glass. Another well filled bowl of steaming hot fat chips arrives, when did we order these? They sit on the table between us and we both dive in, stories about sex give girls an appetite, haven't you noticed?
We break down Pete's evening again into bite-sized chinks, and re-evaluate her position like grown-ups, we have half an inch of wine left and really shouldn’t be drinking any-more and certainly not strategizing. Sorting out life’s little cosmic questions when you've had too much to drink seems very clever at the time, and we decide between us that she should cancel lunch and go for dinner where there's likely more opportunity of a repeat performance, but sober this time.
Pushing aside a fuzzy warm soft blur of wine, I’m left with the thoughts Daniel was there tonight.
Right, getting home then. This'll be fun.
Much later in chapter four, Monday:21thoctober2013, the rescue.
We get up, grab our coats hug goodnight. We leave the bar as a cab pulls up, Pete flags it and we say goodnight. "I’ll get the next one, I need the bathroom anyway, night." Pete blows me a kiss and her cab drives away. As I pull myself back up the stairs to the street, men in grey suits straight from the office are still drinking champagne at the bar. It's the part of town where they drink red wine and Moet, not beer, carry iPads instead of a briefcase, and think the idea of dress-down Fridays is loosening their ties and having a glass at lunch, I secretly like it.
The men are joking and laughing really loudly, they are laughing at me I think, I look down at myself, my parka doesn’t fit me, is that why they’re laughing? Well I try very hard not to care. I look up Bond Street for a cab, there’s a few coming, as I step, or rather lurch to the curb to flag one down, a big black car slowly pulls up beside me. I feel safe, only a few steps away are loads of suited gents they'll be only too willing to help a damsel in distress. I sway about a little numb from the ears down, the back window hums as it lowers, and Daniel is sitting there in the back, looking so gorgeous, and smiling. Though he doesn’t approve of my inebriatiative state, I can tell. He opens the door for me. "Stan," he says his finger on the intercom button, "deepest darkest Essex please."
Oh good, I’m going there too!
I fall into the back seat, so glad to be warm and safe, to have landed on a soft leather seat not tarmac (that's another story), my head is swimming around me. I have my head in Daniels lap, as I regain some sort of composure, he is stroking my long hair, I close my eyes, "thank you for rescuing me" I say weakly.
"I was in the area, you looked like you could do with a lift." Another coincidence?
My next conscious thought is I am being held up at my front door, the cold hitting me on my face, the smell of earth. I can hear the horses in the yard munching haylage, the stars bright above, what is happening? Someone is getting my keys from my pocket, my parka has many pockets, I think it might be cold enough to zip the quilted lining into it now? He opens the door and we fall into the hallway. Max meets us, stretches his long sleek body and heads outside for a hunt.
My grass needs cutting.
My head is swimming, warmth, so lovely and warm, my stove is still glowing orange from earlier and the smell is inviting. I am happy to be home. A comfortable feeling and a stirring smell of a man, that man, tiredness slips its hand in mine and leads me to sleep, was there a man? How did I get here?
I wake in the night, I am undressed just wearing my underwear. Grandma’s advice about always wearing matching underwear was very good indeed, and I wonder whether he undressed me or if I did it myself. A little handwritten note lays by my clock, 'see you at 10 tomorrow, Dx' the writing is sweeping bold strokes and fine swirls, an artistic hand in black ink. The card folded note has an embossed crest of an outstretched eagle with a shipwreck in its claws...I Have seen that logo before somewhere?
Max and Beauty are sleeping curled up beside my legs in little black furry curved balls, I fall back in my pillow and I’m back under the influence of sleep once more.