“You didn’t accept it, but you knew I'd made it. And tonight, when you came in here, you knew I didn't want just a hookup. You know what I want. I want you.”
It sounds wonderful, except I’m far more cynical than that. “And millions of pounds of funding and a game of the year award and another studio in Costa Rica/Toronto/Chicago.” All of those are in consideration to give us a full twenty-four- seven development cycle.
“True. I want all of those. But I want you more.”
And something inside me bursts. I've never been someone's number one before. I wish I could reciprocate but it's hard to see my way through my own mess of priorities. Of course, Effie always comes first, but after that is money and security and a proper home and me, my own future. I don't know which of those I want more, let alone what happens when I add Anders into the mix.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He kisses my forehead lightly. “I know you can be slow on the uptake.”
I bite his nipple.
“Ouch!” He rubs the area. A glint appears in his eyes. “You know what they say. Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind.” He pushes both of my hands up to my head and flips his body to lie over mine. I’m held immobile. Then his teeth are everywhere.On my neck, around my earlobes, nipping at my shoulders, down to my breasts. The sensations are incredible.
Using my weight, I tip him onto his back and straddle him. I’ll show him a whirlwind. He’s hard again and I’m wet enough to slip him deep inside. His hands twist and tweak at my nipples, goading me on. I’m sore but I ride him hard, not stopping until I see his eyes fluttering, his mouth opening, and his groan gathering volume. Now I have his orgasm-face burned into my retinas. I let my own take me, head thrown back and yowling with abandon.
Not a Booty Call
Anders and I lie together naked, hands clasped, making inane observations and laughing at unfunny jokes until my stomach reminds me it’s a long time since it was fed.
Neither of us feels like shovelling me back into my dress so he gives me a soft black t-shirt to wear. I’m beginning to regret going without knickers as I have to sit bare-cheeked on his cold kitchen bar stool. He offers me pizza or takeout, but I don’t want strangers intruding into this fantasy. After unwrapping a couple from his freezer, he opens a bottle of wine, and I realise I can drink as much as I want. No having to hold back in case I have to drive to a hospital. But oddly, I don’t want to get drunk. I want to be able to remember everything that happens tonight, forever.
While he moves about his kitchen, I think about what Dana said. It made a difference knowing I have control. I should have been a bag of nerves tonight, overthinking everything having not had sex since Effie was born. But I wasn’t worried for onemoment whether my vagina was too sloppy, or my technique out-dated.
It helped that he was so clearly into me, that he found me attractive, and that he wanted me so much he would propose. He thinks I am a prize. Not some disposable pussy, good enough to fuck, not enough to stay. And I finally grasp what he meant; hewasright to propose.
When the pizza is done, we curl up together on his sofa. He puts some music on, a selection of Adele hits playing low in the background. Anders pays attention, and he remembers the details.
We talk about our childhoods and our dreams. There’s a lot we already know about each other. I know what winds him up (stupidity) and he knows my guilty pleasure (expensive chocolate). But then he talks about Imogen and how painful it was to realise they wanted different futures. And how much it cost him to call time on their relationship.
So I tell him how I struggled after Mike abandoned me. How long it took to stop blaming myself and to rebuild my confidence. How small I made myself and my life until I came to Cerium.
He knows I work because I have to and I know he works because he loves it. At one point he asks what I would do if I could. And I tell him, I would like to be the world’s expert at something. I don’t know what yet, but something. Maybe Effie and I are not as far apart as it sometimes seems.
Somewhere around midnight, we go back to bed. He holds me as we drift in and out of sleep. Neither of us have lives where we can stay awake all night, no matter how much we would like to.
When my alarm sounds at six o'clock in the morning, it's a rude awakening. I come to face down in Anders's bed, one leg hooked over his, and one arm lying across his body. My hand cups his cock. As soon as I realise where it is, I snatch it back. How embarrassing. It makes me look desperate. And thenI realise it doesn't matter. This is not a first encounter where I wonder if I performed well enough to warrant another go. Anders wants a forever relationship. If I didn’t measure up – although I’m sure I did – we’ll keep learning each other’s bodies until we know what works. So, this can be whatever I want it to be.
He nuzzles my forehead. A kiss, full of warm lips and the gentle prickle of his beard, lets me know he’s awake too. When I slip out of his bed, he follows, throwing on sweats as I pick up my dress and attempt to fit into it. That pizza must have morphed into fat overnight because it’s twice as hard to pull it back on as it was to peel it off.
I decline his offer of coffee and breakfast. Instead, he helps to locate my shoes before sliding my coat over my shoulders. And then his mouth lingers on mine long enough for me to think about going back to bed. I push him away. That can't happen.
Shoving his feet into trainers, he comes down to the roadside to wait for my taxi with me. One last throbbing kiss and I'm ducking away. He opens the car door and I slide inside. Slam! The door is shut, the driver pulls away from the kerb, and my night of magic is over.
By the time Dana, Max and Effie arrive, I’m washed, dried and dressed in mummy clothes. If it wasn't for the soreness between my legs, it would be hard to believe the night had ever happened.
Max clatters into the kitchen, Effie following quietly in his wake. She barely gives me a glance as she takes her place at the table. She likes to sit at the head, so nobody's elbows get in the way. Max comes over to inspect the pancake batter resting on the worktop.
“Chocolate chips?” he asks hopefully, but I shake my head. He looks crestfallen until I open the cupboard and produce a jar of Nutella.
“Take this to the table,” I tell him, and he carries it carefully to set it beside Effie. That’s kind of him, but unnecessary. Effie takes her pancakes plain, with about two granules of sugar.
Dana looks at me. “Well?” she says.
“Good,” I say. “No. Not good. Excellent.”
She does aWho’s the Mummydance.
I burst out laughing. I feel on top of the world. Nothing can spoil this happiness.
