‘Exactly what you’re imagining doing to me right now, I’d presume . . .’ I slid my hand up a little further. ‘Yep. I thought so.’
As Oliver took another long drink, I could feel him get harder under my hand.
‘Fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Are you staying at the hotel, Phoebe?’
‘Maybe. Why?’
‘You know the answer to that.’
I noticed that the bar had suddenly filled up to capacity. I was so freakin’ into this, I hadn’t paid attention to anything else. ‘Look . . . Oliver, wasn’t it? I’m not in the habit of just letting strangers come to my room, let alone ones that—’
Oliver took his glasses out of his inside pocket.
‘Ones that what?’ he asked, putting them on. ‘You were say—?’
‘You fucker. Room 203. Meet me there in five minutes.’
I left the table, making my way hurriedly to the lifts and back to the room. I was excited for what was about to happen, but mainly I really needed to pee. I just had time to freshen up before I heard him knock on the door, undoubtedly using his hard-on.
I had barely opened the door before his hands were grabbing at my clothes and his mouth was on mine. I’d seen him eager before but this was on a whole new level. I pulled away for a second as the door shut behind him.
‘What? What’s wrong?’ He wiped my lipstick from his mouth.
‘Nothing . . . it’s just . . . you’re so intense.’
‘And?’
I gasped and narrowed my eyes. ‘Prison’s changed you.’
He sniggered and pushed me towards the bed, undoing his belt. ‘You said if I got you here I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to?’
I nodded.
‘Then bend over.’
We fucked over the bed, on the bed, on the floor, against the desk, on the chair and even against the door while we heard people walking past. I don’t think there was an inch of that room, or me, that wasn’t covered. There was pounding, there was spanking, there was squirting, there were several moments of religious bellowing and by the time Oliver had finished with me, I finally understood Lucy’s wallpaper analogy.
We lay panting in bed at 3 a.m., too tired to do anything except sleep, both pushing each other away to get some air. However, the last thing I remember is Oliver gently clutching my hand as I drifted off. It was sticky but perfect.
Monday March 20th
It was Lucy’s birthday today. When I saw her at work this morning, she was still laughing at the state she’d seen me come home in on Sunday. She also had on abirthday babebadge which was roughly the size of a dinner plate.
From:Lucy Jacobs
To:Phoebe Henderson
Subject: GOOD MORNING
How’s it going, John Wayne? Have you recovered?
From:Phoebe Henderson
To:Lucy Jacobs
Subject: Re: GOOD MORNING
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I feel like I’ve been battered with a penis. Honestly, maybe it’s my age, but fucking hell, I ache in places I don’t even have.
