I came out and he was kicking back on his fake leather lounge that had more cracks in it than the terrazzo at Pompeii.
“Wanna a drink?”
“Well, I’m driving, so I really shouldn’t.”
“Suit yourself.” He patted the space next to him on the settee.
“Sit down why don’t you?”
I looked around for another chair, but there was only the relic from Pompeii.
“I guess I should be going really.” I didn’t want to get into a ‘thing’ with Frankie, although as I played out a few scenarios, being seen with a Colin Firth dopppleganger was a definite plus. As I weighed up my options I saw Tess hovering over me saying ‘go for it.’ I saw my sister pointing to my biological clock and then Frankie turned from a bit of a dick to another fish in the sea.
When a large woman sits on a small settee with a medium sized good looking fish things can get a bit cosy. I plomped myself down and Frankie smiled. He put his hand on my knee and I narrowed my preconceived ideas on how the evening would pan out.
“I think we have a lot in common.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah,” Frankie leant forward and flicked the lava lamp on and then swung his arm up behind me and turned off the main fluro.
“You’re single, I’m single. The odds of us getting together according to …” That’s when I threw caution to the wind and kissed him.
It didn’t take him more than a second to get the hint to stop talking. As I was teasing his bottom lip my mind thought that at the outside I could pretend I was kissing Colin Firth, but Frankie was very responsive. Things began to get interesting as he pushed me back on the seat and gave my tonsils a bit of a thrashing with his tongue. Any further and he would have tickled that delicate spot between keeping your dinner down and seeing the carrots all over again.
I kissed him back, trying to get worked up, but breathing through your nose and kissing is a bit like playing the didgeridoo. We sucked face and then I broke off for a breath of air.
“It’s Evelyn isn’t it?”
Right there I should have called a halt. I mean, if he can’t remember your name, what hope is there?
I closed my eyes and Colin came into view.
“Yes.” I said with as much breathy breath I could muster.
He went for my throat and began nibbling and ended at my ear lobes. Who would have thought they could be so sensitive and I thanked my lucky stars my mother had put her foot down when I was 12 and forbid me to get them pierced. I nibbled his ear lobes and they were soft and tender like fruit pastilles. We were nibbling, and kissing when my body clock gave me a jab around about the half hour mark and I felt an urge that I hadn’t felt before. An ache that started in my nether regions and worked its way up to my belly button.
“Hell’s bells, it’s hot in here.” I pulled him off me.
I didn’t think it sounded like an invitation and I hadn’t meant it as such, but Frankie began to undo the buttons on my shirt.
Here it was again. That moment when you need to weigh up the options and either call a halt or go for it.
#I was 29 years old for God’s sake.
#Apparently on average. people have 8 sexual partners
#I was 29 years old for God’s sake.
Frankie was three buttons in when my ample bosom met the mood lighting of the lava lamp. From where I was sitting they looked quite nice. Lush, inviting and plump. Frankie took one look and the exclamation was less than subtle.
“I beg your pardon?” I said with just a hint of displeasure.
“They’re bloody enormous.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
He sat back and pointed as if picking out an attraction for a tourist bus. I could just imagine it as my ardour went from red lining to cold shower.
“And here we have the famous tits. Note their size in relative terms. Postcards can be bought at the gift shop on the way out.”
“It’s just that I…um…I.”
“What?” I’m sure Colin wouldn’t have reacted like this.
“Well you have now, so either get over it or get on with it.” I said. I had read enough of Cleo to know sometimes you just need to take charge. “Women on top,” I said to myself thinking of Mary.
Frankie ran his fingers through his hair and kept starring.
“Is there a problem?” I felt we were losing the last of the moment so I undid my last three buttons and pulled him close for a kiss. I could tell his heart wasn’t in it and then of all the times, my stomach began to growl. A low rumble that ended in a gurgle like a bath plug being pulled.
“Sorry, I’m sort of hungry.”
“Yeah.” Frankie sat up and without taking his eyes off my boobs he added, “hungry.”
There was a tone in Frankie’s voice, a nuance that I must have missed as he sat there and admired my breasts. He let out a low moan. A combination of a growl and a beast in pain.
“Oh Evelyn.” Frankie shuffled closer, if that is possible on a small two seater.
“May I?” he asked like a kid asking for a lollie.
It had never occurred to me that a man might ask my permission. In my limited experience it was wham bam and not even a thank you ma’am.