Emily jumped up. ‘That was amazing. I love you, Michael. Now let’s snuggle back in bed. Come on, you know you want to.’ She put on the stupid baby voice which he now hated with a passion.
‘Yeah, it was amazing.’ Michael stood up. ‘But, I best have a shower.’
Right, he would tell her now whilst she was feeling like this.
‘I forgot to tell you, Ems - I’ve got to go away next weekend. The Editor of The Sunday Review wants me to write an article on romantic Devon country retreats, and the money’s too good to miss. We need all we can get for Mr Bump now, don’t we?’
‘Or Miss Bump for that matter.’ Emily smiled. ‘That’s fine, darling, of course.’
‘Even though it’s Valentines?’ Michael feared the worst.
‘We don’t need a silly day to show we love each other, do we? And money is so much more important at the moment.’
Money, bloody money. Oh how he wished he could just leave her now. Material, shallow bitch!
Phew, Michael could now put his plan into action. He so feared that Emily would ask to come with him. He had prepared his response - that he just had a single room in a grotty B&B near to the posh hotels he had been asked to review.
Ruby Ann Stevens was going to have the best Valentine’s night of her life.
‘Oh yes!’ Michael said aloud. He was excited and also still a little aroused over the sex scene he had managed to write with ease.
The words were flowing out of him. Now, what could he call his developing masterpiece? He tapped his pencil on his desk. He knew how important the title was and then flash, another light-bulb moment! A Ring for Miss Ruby! Not perfect, or The One, but it would certainly do for now.
Oh, to be able to get out of this high-rise one-bedroom Clapham flat. He was sure one of his neighbours was a prostitute. She had more knocks on her door in one night than he had in a year. And the music noise late into the early hours was sometimes unbearable.
He still couldn’t forgive his witch of an ex-fiancée Emily for luring his best mate into her wicked web. Worse than that, she had taken Barney, their black Labrador. He actually missed Barney more than her. He sometimes also missed his matey time with Justin, too. They had been friends since school. But how could you forgive someone when they had betrayed you so badly? Could you ever go back to how it was? Would you ever trust them again?
Emily was a bloody sexy girl, there was no doubt about that. Ten years younger and posh totty. They had met after a rugby match in Twickenham. Her parents had spoiled her and this had proved to make their relationship difficult. With Michael’s working-class roots, he had always worked hard for every penny he had earned. Losing his mum at just sixteen had also made him look at life in a different way. He was of the opinion that life was for living and enjoying, and that money didn’t necessarily bring happiness.
He could see why Emily had been blinded by Justin, with his city-boy lifestyle and flash car. But he was sure she would eventually demand too much from him and he would sicken of her tantrums. Or maybe he would just give her everything she wanted and cheat on her like he had done with many girlfriends before.
Whatever happened, she would get her comeuppance in his novel and that was a definite.
The night he had found out about their affair had been atrocious. He wasn’t a freelance writer at the time, did a nine-to-five job for a Sports magazine. He also had to work in a bar twice a week to pay off his huge credit-card bill racked up by the engagement ring that Madame Bitch had said she had always wanted. On this particular Tuesday he had forgotten his bar uniform so he dashed back home straight after work to grab it and there they were. In the lovely two-bedroom Clapham cottage they were renting. At it! His best mate with his fiancée. Her on top with the pert little bottom he used to love to squeeze bouncing away, a bottle of champagne to their side
‘Yeah, it was amazing.’ Michael stood up. ‘But, I best have a shower.’
Right, he would tell her now whilst she was feeling like this.
‘I forgot to tell you, Ems - I’ve got to go away next weekend. The Editor of The Sunday Review wants me to write an article on romantic Devon country retreats, and the money’s too good to miss. We need all we can get for Mr Bump now, don’t we?’
‘Or Miss Bump for that matter.’ Emily smiled. ‘That’s fine, darling, of course.’
‘Even though it’s Valentines?’ Michael feared the worst.
‘We don’t need a silly day to show we love each other, do we? And money is so much more important at the moment.’
Money, bloody money. Oh how he wished he could just leave her now. Material, shallow bitch!
Phew, Michael could now put his plan into action. He so feared that Emily would ask to come with him. He had prepared his response - that he just had a single room in a grotty B&B near to the posh hotels he had been asked to review.
Ruby Ann Stevens was going to have the best Valentine’s night of her life.
‘Oh yes!’ Michael said aloud. He was excited and also still a little aroused over the sex scene he had managed to write with ease.
The words were flowing out of him. Now, what could he call his developing masterpiece? He tapped his pencil on his desk. He knew how important the title was and then flash, another light-bulb moment! A Ring for Miss Ruby! Not perfect, or The One, but it would certainly do for now.
Oh, to be able to get out of this high-rise one-bedroom Clapham flat. He was sure one of his neighbours was a prostitute. She had more knocks on her door in one night than he had in a year. And the music noise late into the early hours was sometimes unbearable.
He still couldn’t forgive his witch of an ex-fiancée Emily for luring his best mate into her wicked web. Worse than that, she had taken Barney, their black Labrador. He actually missed Barney more than her. He sometimes also missed his matey time with Justin, too. They had been friends since school. But how could you forgive someone when they had betrayed you so badly? Could you ever go back to how it was? Would you ever trust them again?
Emily was a bloody sexy girl, there was no doubt about that. Ten years younger and posh totty. They had met after a rugby match in Twickenham. Her parents had spoiled her and this had proved to make their relationship difficult. With Michael’s working-class roots, he had always worked hard for every penny he had earned. Losing his mum at just sixteen had also made him look at life in a different way. He was of the opinion that life was for living and enjoying, and that money didn’t necessarily bring happiness.
He could see why Emily had been blinded by Justin, with his city-boy lifestyle and flash car. But he was sure she would eventually demand too much from him and he would sicken of her tantrums. Or maybe he would just give her everything she wanted and cheat on her like he had done with many girlfriends before.
Whatever happened, she would get her comeuppance in his novel and that was a definite.
The night he had found out about their affair had been atrocious. He wasn’t a freelance writer at the time, did a nine-to-five job for a Sports magazine. He also had to work in a bar twice a week to pay off his huge credit-card bill racked up by the engagement ring that Madame Bitch had said she had always wanted. On this particular Tuesday he had forgotten his bar uniform so he dashed back home straight after work to grab it and there they were. In the lovely two-bedroom Clapham cottage they were renting. At it! His best mate with his fiancée. Her on top with the pert little bottom he used to love to squeeze bouncing away, a bottle of champagne to their side
Similar Books
