climax!
On the other end of the line, Guy says, ‘You’re too hot to handle.’
And I say, ‘Guy, I’ve got to go.’
And he says, ‘Talk to you later, baby.’
And frankly, Kitten, I feel like a piece of shit, having phone sex with him while I dream about my super-young tenant. So I return to Pearl, who’s got nothing to do, and she says, ‘Well?’
‘I told him how much I adore them,’ I say, but I glance down at the shoes, which are suddenly less glamorous than I remembered. ‘Think I’ll change ’em though,’ I tell Pearl. ‘Keep them nice.’
But sadly, I wonder if they’ll ever seem nice again.
7.45 p.m.
Oh, now I really have seen it all! But I’ll start at the beginning.
I got home half an hour ago and I’m in an awful mood. The place smells of incense and there’s a droning music coming from upstairs. One of those goth bands or something. So I march on up, thinking I’ll ask Janey to turn it down, when I see that the bedroom door is ajar. ‘Janey?’ I call, as I reach the top of the stairs. ‘D’you mind if I close the door?’
And a plaintive voice says, ‘Um … Deborah, I need some help.’
I pause at the door. Something tells me this is going to be weird. And when I step into her room, it turns out I wasn’t wrong! Kitten, the girl is splayed on her double bed in a grey bra and matching briefs (so scant, Kitten, they’re barely there at all), and she’s spread-eagled across the bed, with each of her wrists bound to the bed knobs of my Auntie Doris’s antique queen-size. Her breasts swell more than I thought they would, and I can see the shapes of her nipples through the grey Lycra, and her belly and thighs are delightfully pale, and there are tiny specks of freckles round her cleavage. She’s so stunning that I stare at her for far too long. ‘Sorry,’ she says, at last, with a sigh. ‘This is so fucking embarrassing.’ Then she tells me that she and Lil had a fight. ‘Let’s just say, once she’d tied me up, she decided to ask me a few tough questions.’
Suddenly, the truth hits me. ‘She didn’t
leave
you like this?’ I ask.
‘Looks like it,’ says Janey. ‘Never get all truthy when your lover’s got you trussed.’
This makes me want to laugh – and hard – but I bite my lip. But Janey catches the glint in my eye, and suddenly we’re both giggling away. In fact, after a minute, our laughter gets so raucous that I have to lean against the pine chest of drawers, Kitten, to keep my balance. (Never was one for yoga, you know.) And poor Janey’s got tears running down her face, God bless her, so I go over and wipe them away with the pad of my thumb, and we watch each other for a moment, and I think, Dear God, you’re beautiful, with that haunting face and those blue-blue eyes – ‘fuck-me blue’ as Glads would say – and your wonderful body, so sleek and unspoiled.
And suddenly, things get awkward, so I offer to help and soon I’m picking my way round the clothes on the floor, trying to find the key that Lil apparently threw on the floor when she left.
As I release poor Janey, she says, ‘Learning point: only submit with someone you trust.’
‘Are you saying you don’t trust Lil?’
Janey’s eyebrows rise. ‘Would
you
trust Lil in the bedroom right now?’
‘Well, at least she hasn’t been unfaithful,’ I say.
Janey, who’s now free and rubbing her wrists, gives me a you’re-plain-crazy kind of look. ‘I’d call locking up your girl and tossing the key pretty damn unfaithful. Especially when she’s telling you the truth. And if Lil
had
ever screwed someone behind my back, you’d have just said something pretty fucking tactless.’
Oh, Kitten, I cover my eyes! Janey’s right! I’m a wreck! Tactless as they come. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m so full of tripe that I’d sink a ship.’ Then I sit on the bed, facing away from Janey, staring into my palms. I should say something more, but I don’t know what. Why do I feel
On the other end of the line, Guy says, ‘You’re too hot to handle.’
And I say, ‘Guy, I’ve got to go.’
And he says, ‘Talk to you later, baby.’
And frankly, Kitten, I feel like a piece of shit, having phone sex with him while I dream about my super-young tenant. So I return to Pearl, who’s got nothing to do, and she says, ‘Well?’
‘I told him how much I adore them,’ I say, but I glance down at the shoes, which are suddenly less glamorous than I remembered. ‘Think I’ll change ’em though,’ I tell Pearl. ‘Keep them nice.’
But sadly, I wonder if they’ll ever seem nice again.
7.45 p.m.
Oh, now I really have seen it all! But I’ll start at the beginning.
I got home half an hour ago and I’m in an awful mood. The place smells of incense and there’s a droning music coming from upstairs. One of those goth bands or something. So I march on up, thinking I’ll ask Janey to turn it down, when I see that the bedroom door is ajar. ‘Janey?’ I call, as I reach the top of the stairs. ‘D’you mind if I close the door?’
And a plaintive voice says, ‘Um … Deborah, I need some help.’
I pause at the door. Something tells me this is going to be weird. And when I step into her room, it turns out I wasn’t wrong! Kitten, the girl is splayed on her double bed in a grey bra and matching briefs (so scant, Kitten, they’re barely there at all), and she’s spread-eagled across the bed, with each of her wrists bound to the bed knobs of my Auntie Doris’s antique queen-size. Her breasts swell more than I thought they would, and I can see the shapes of her nipples through the grey Lycra, and her belly and thighs are delightfully pale, and there are tiny specks of freckles round her cleavage. She’s so stunning that I stare at her for far too long. ‘Sorry,’ she says, at last, with a sigh. ‘This is so fucking embarrassing.’ Then she tells me that she and Lil had a fight. ‘Let’s just say, once she’d tied me up, she decided to ask me a few tough questions.’
Suddenly, the truth hits me. ‘She didn’t
leave
you like this?’ I ask.
‘Looks like it,’ says Janey. ‘Never get all truthy when your lover’s got you trussed.’
This makes me want to laugh – and hard – but I bite my lip. But Janey catches the glint in my eye, and suddenly we’re both giggling away. In fact, after a minute, our laughter gets so raucous that I have to lean against the pine chest of drawers, Kitten, to keep my balance. (Never was one for yoga, you know.) And poor Janey’s got tears running down her face, God bless her, so I go over and wipe them away with the pad of my thumb, and we watch each other for a moment, and I think, Dear God, you’re beautiful, with that haunting face and those blue-blue eyes – ‘fuck-me blue’ as Glads would say – and your wonderful body, so sleek and unspoiled.
And suddenly, things get awkward, so I offer to help and soon I’m picking my way round the clothes on the floor, trying to find the key that Lil apparently threw on the floor when she left.
As I release poor Janey, she says, ‘Learning point: only submit with someone you trust.’
‘Are you saying you don’t trust Lil?’
Janey’s eyebrows rise. ‘Would
you
trust Lil in the bedroom right now?’
‘Well, at least she hasn’t been unfaithful,’ I say.
Janey, who’s now free and rubbing her wrists, gives me a you’re-plain-crazy kind of look. ‘I’d call locking up your girl and tossing the key pretty damn unfaithful. Especially when she’s telling you the truth. And if Lil
had
ever screwed someone behind my back, you’d have just said something pretty fucking tactless.’
Oh, Kitten, I cover my eyes! Janey’s right! I’m a wreck! Tactless as they come. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m so full of tripe that I’d sink a ship.’ Then I sit on the bed, facing away from Janey, staring into my palms. I should say something more, but I don’t know what. Why do I feel
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