New phone. Who dis?
Idiot.
*
I already had my hand in the jar when Oliver came into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
‘Isn’t it my turn to pick?’ he asked, watching me lift out a piece of paper. ‘Although, the hand job one was a bit of a write-off . . .’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t care whose turn it is as long as I get laid.’
‘You’re so romantic.’
I unfolded the paper and smiled at the handwriting, handing it to Oliver who read it aloud.
‘Missionary – slow, hard and deep . . . Phoebe, this is verging onnormalsex. I’m disgusted.’
‘But you have to follow my instructions,’ I explained. ‘You go at my pace, none of this thrusting willy-nilly.’
He nodded. ‘My willy shall remain nilly-less. Now take your fucking clothes off.’
Thursday July 13th
FFS Henderson! Last night – I swear when you made me go balls-deep and just hold it there, I thought my entire body would explode. That was hot as fuck. You win this round. See you later x
I put my phone back in my pocket and smiled to myself, hoping the other people on the train wouldn’t notice the last night’s sex glow which radiated from every pore in my body.
Friday July 14th
Oliver and I watchedIt Followsin bed tonight which was clearly a mistake as now I can’t sleep and I’m sitting bolt upright in bed while he’s snoring away like nothing happened. Did he not see the same thing I did? I AM SCARED. I keep expecting to see a shadow under the door or someone walk past the window, despite the fact that we’re on the first floor. Evil doesn’t follow the rules of gravity, it doesn’t need to; it just needs to MURDER MY FACE. Why do I do this to myself?
Saturday July 15th
I SURVIVED THE NIGHT!
I also only got four hours’ sleep and had to be alert and coherent for Lucy and Hazel who arrived at lunchtime to discuss wedding plans. As usual, Lucy was panicking.
‘He wants “Africa” by Toto for the first dance!’ she exclaimed. ‘Can you believe it? How the hell am I supposed to dance to that without looking like I was born in the seventies? No offence.’
‘None taken,’ I replied. ‘Though, like you, that song came out in the eighties, so you’re just as screwed as the rest of us.’
‘It’s a great song, though an odd choice for a first dance,’ Hazel agreed, diplomatically. ‘What did you have in mind?’
Lucy grinned. ‘“Kiss” by Prince. Who wouldn’t want to kick off their married life dancing to Prince? Kyle says it’s notuniqueenough. Fucking hipster. What was your first dance, Hazel?’
‘At which wedding?’ she smirked. ‘Let’s see – for my first we danced to “Your Song” by Elton John. With Kevin, we chose “Real Love” by John Lennon.’
‘I always forget you’re a divorced woman,’ Lucy remarked. ‘I hope I’m as splendid as you are when I get divorced, which will be the day after the wedding if Kyle plays bloody “Africa”. What would you have, Phoebe?’
Both sets of eyes fell on me.
‘“Rasputin” by Boney M.’
I really didn’t want to think about this because I wasn’t getting married. I was dating a man who’d kissed someone else.
They continued to stare.
‘Fine. Well, we had to think about songs recently for therapy and how they reflected our relationship . . . or something like that, I can’t remember the logic. Anyway, I’d choose “Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap. There would be no discussion. It’s perfect.’
