she was giving him her number, but she’d so desperately wanted to believe him. As desperately as she’d wanted him to say that he’d made a terrible mistake, that he loved her, wanted to marry her and spend the rest of his life with her. But Hugh hadn’t said any of those things. And she knew he wasn’t going to. This wasn’t one of those movies she used to watch with her mum, with their soft-focus, saccharine-sweet, girl-gets-boy happy endings. This was real life. Her life. No life.
Clutching the phone tightly to her chest, she curled into a ball, burrowed her head into the sofa and sobbed her bloody heart out.
12
‘Who was that?’
‘Oh, just a friend.’
Walking back into the bedroom, Hugh put the phone down and leaned across the crumpled duvet, brushing his hand across the pair of 34A breasts belonging to the young skinny blonde he’d met last night at Adam and Jessica’s engagement party. She was lying naked in his bed, her St Tropez tan smeared over his pillowcases and the twin peaks of her Wonderbra lying, like two black lacy yoghurt pots, on the carpet.
‘Why are they ringing so early?’ The blonde opened one smudged-mascara eye and peered at Hugh, who was engrossed with playing with her nipples, twiddling them backwards and forwards between finger and thumb as if he was trying to tune in a radio. Why did men always think that turned women on? She stifled a yawn. She had such a stinker of a hangover. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep.
‘Ummm, who knows?’ replied Hugh, putting one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking determinedly as if it was a boiled sweet.
Talk about bad timing. He’d woken up feeling horny and had just been in the middle of groping the blonde when the phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but he’d had second thoughts. It could be work-related. It wasn’t. It was Frankie, crying down the phone and telling him how much she missed him. Which was the last thing he wanted to hear when he was trying to shag some girl he’d picked up at a party.
Not that the phone call had come as a surprise. He’d been expecting it ever since he’d come home to the flat and discovered she’d packed her bags and disappeared with those bloody cats. To be honest, that had been a surprise. He’d assumed she’d be waiting for him when he got home, wanting to talk for hours, trying to persuade him to change his mind. He never thought she’d just move out without saying a word. And not only that, but move to Los Angeles. He’d thought she’d stay at her parents’, or on somebody’s sofa, but never Los Angeles .
He couldn’t believe it. Frankie was normally so sensible. She never made a rash decision, was always so cautious about everything. This was totally so unlike her – and LA of all places, it just wasn’t her style, she’d hate it. In fact she’d probably be home in no time. She was obviously really upset, but what could he do? Like Adam said, he shouldn’t feel guilty about what had happened. OK, the timing could have been better, what with her losing her job and all that, but what else could he have done? They’d been going out for nearly two years and they’d had some really good times, but at the end of the day he was only thirty-two. He wasn’t ready to settle down and get married, and that’s what Frankie wanted. Apart from Adam, most of his mates were single and always going out on the piss, having a laugh, pulling women. He’d been missing out.
He squeezed the blonde’s breasts, as if they were a couple of ripe plums. Here he was, about to get his end away, and he was thinking about Frankie. What the hell was he doing? He shoved all thoughts of her and the phone call to the back of his mind. He’d think about it some other time. Right now he had more important matters to hand.
With the resurrection of his hard-on, his boxer shorts began to strain uncomfortably. He tried to casually wriggle out of them. It wasn’t easy. He managed to
Clutching the phone tightly to her chest, she curled into a ball, burrowed her head into the sofa and sobbed her bloody heart out.
12
‘Who was that?’
‘Oh, just a friend.’
Walking back into the bedroom, Hugh put the phone down and leaned across the crumpled duvet, brushing his hand across the pair of 34A breasts belonging to the young skinny blonde he’d met last night at Adam and Jessica’s engagement party. She was lying naked in his bed, her St Tropez tan smeared over his pillowcases and the twin peaks of her Wonderbra lying, like two black lacy yoghurt pots, on the carpet.
‘Why are they ringing so early?’ The blonde opened one smudged-mascara eye and peered at Hugh, who was engrossed with playing with her nipples, twiddling them backwards and forwards between finger and thumb as if he was trying to tune in a radio. Why did men always think that turned women on? She stifled a yawn. She had such a stinker of a hangover. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep.
‘Ummm, who knows?’ replied Hugh, putting one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking determinedly as if it was a boiled sweet.
Talk about bad timing. He’d woken up feeling horny and had just been in the middle of groping the blonde when the phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but he’d had second thoughts. It could be work-related. It wasn’t. It was Frankie, crying down the phone and telling him how much she missed him. Which was the last thing he wanted to hear when he was trying to shag some girl he’d picked up at a party.
Not that the phone call had come as a surprise. He’d been expecting it ever since he’d come home to the flat and discovered she’d packed her bags and disappeared with those bloody cats. To be honest, that had been a surprise. He’d assumed she’d be waiting for him when he got home, wanting to talk for hours, trying to persuade him to change his mind. He never thought she’d just move out without saying a word. And not only that, but move to Los Angeles. He’d thought she’d stay at her parents’, or on somebody’s sofa, but never Los Angeles .
He couldn’t believe it. Frankie was normally so sensible. She never made a rash decision, was always so cautious about everything. This was totally so unlike her – and LA of all places, it just wasn’t her style, she’d hate it. In fact she’d probably be home in no time. She was obviously really upset, but what could he do? Like Adam said, he shouldn’t feel guilty about what had happened. OK, the timing could have been better, what with her losing her job and all that, but what else could he have done? They’d been going out for nearly two years and they’d had some really good times, but at the end of the day he was only thirty-two. He wasn’t ready to settle down and get married, and that’s what Frankie wanted. Apart from Adam, most of his mates were single and always going out on the piss, having a laugh, pulling women. He’d been missing out.
He squeezed the blonde’s breasts, as if they were a couple of ripe plums. Here he was, about to get his end away, and he was thinking about Frankie. What the hell was he doing? He shoved all thoughts of her and the phone call to the back of his mind. He’d think about it some other time. Right now he had more important matters to hand.
With the resurrection of his hard-on, his boxer shorts began to strain uncomfortably. He tried to casually wriggle out of them. It wasn’t easy. He managed to
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