He moans, swallowing hard, spurring me on.
Slowly my fingertips swirl down the back of his neck, over his torso and lower to what I want.
I find it.
Find him.
Sliding my legs up around his waist, I rotate my hips so that we meet – the tip of him circling me slowly. Teasing us both.
I look at him.
He wants me.
I want him.
I make us wait a little longer, despite the pleading his eyes give me. Willing me to let him in.
Not yet.
Round and round and round I go, enjoying the need in his eyes. Loving the power he’s given me.
I give in just a little, his eyes widening with pleasure as I do so. He places his hands on my bare bottom and tries to speed me up and pull me in further. I push him out and away – going back to how it was before, round and round and round … my hips rotating, my body alive with sexual need – enjoying this feeling of liberty as we float around entwined.
Then I’m done. I can no longer wait.
He’s in me and we both gasp for air from the mounting desire that’s been eating away at us – relieved to give into its cries.
We’re fast and desperate, quick and wild – throbbing, pulsing, thumping. His arms are around me, on me – grabbing my breasts, groping my thighs, caressing my bum. I marvel at the whole thing, how crazy it makes me feel – how primitive and free. This is heaven.
This is everything.
And then he stops and pulls me away, his hands cradling my face, his thumbs rubbing against my cheeks. Then he leans in and kisses me gently on the lips – soft and loving, a stark contrast to the frantic behaviour of moments before.
It makes my heart melt and my body ache.
I’m confused when I open my eyes and look around the room. What just happened? Or didn’t just happen? Did I really have the best sex of my life while floating around in space, with some guy I knew almost a decade ago – in my sleep? Why would the world be so cruel?
I let out a moan, a big fat groan of dissatisfaction.
I must be really sexually frustrated, I reason, realizing that my last sexual encounter was over eleven months ago, at Alastair and Josh’s New Year’s Eve party – with one of Alastair’s old school friends. He only lived down the road so I stumbled back to his after the big countdown and had to do the walk of shame the next morning … Highly embarrassing, seeing as Alastair was aware of the situation, but thankfully I haven’t seen his friend since. I think he has a girlfriend now. Lucky him.
I can’t believe I haven’t had sex since then, though. How utterly depressing. Because it was really rubbish – and I don’t mean that he was bad necessarily, I wasn’t on top form either. It was all too drunken and sloppy for it to be anything great. It certainly was nothing to write home about … unlike that little cosmically orgasmic dream I’ve just had about Brett.
‘Argh!’ I moan again, bashing my pillows in protest at life’s unfairness.
‘You okay?’ Carly shouts, banging on the door.
‘Yeah …’ I call back with a sigh.
The door opens and Carly pops her pasty little face around the doorframe.
‘Still feeling rough?’ I ask.
She nods with a pout. She really does look the worst I’ve ever seen her. And that’s saying something.
‘Poor love,’ I say, pulling back the duvet cover on her side of the bed. ‘What time is it?’
‘Six-thirty,’ she replies, accepting my invite and scrambling into the bed.
‘That is early …’
‘Very.’
I realize my alarm clock is set to go off in thirty minutes for work, and as soon as work and the office enter my thoughts a swarm of butterflies takes hold of my tummy. Today is a very important day at Red Brick Productions. Following Dominique’s departure last Friday (we all went to the local pub and got hammered together) it’s time for her replacement to join the team – and for me to meet whoever it was that beat me to her position. But, even more fun than that – I’m hoping it’s also the day that I step away from my desk and into the boardroom of meetings, ideas and magic. Jonathan did say something about having me learn the ropes and the Red Brick way of doing things at the same time as the newcomer (to save him going over everything twice). Fingers crossed he follows through with that plan, but, either way, Dominique’s out and I’m one step closer to promotion myself. What an exciting day.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asks, cutting into my vision of the perfect work day.
‘Huh?’
‘I was just about to vom again and I heard you having a right strop.’
‘Oh … dreams,’ I say, suddenly remembering where I spent last night and feeling giddy as the image of Brett nibbling on my earlobe flashes in front of me and sends a shiver through my body.
‘With Brett still?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ I laugh wildly.
‘Yeah I do! Go on.’
‘Carly, I love you dearly – but seriously …’
She leans over and looks and me, her eyes inspecting mine for clues.
I can’t help but blush.
‘Nooooo! You had a sex dream!’
I cackle into my pillow hysterically.
‘What was it like? Was it all Fifty Shades with bondage and whips? Is that why you’re blushing so much?’
‘No!’ I scream, wondering how to explain that I had the best sex in the world whilst suspended in air, surrounded by millions of stars. It’s a tad more soppy and romantic than the hardcore porn she’s expecting.
‘Hmmm … I’ll get it out of you eventually,’ she laughs before adding, ‘You filthy bitch.’
We both crack up then. We laugh until our eyes start to stream with tears and we’re sighing with the exhaustion that too much giggling gives you.
‘You going into work today?’ I ask, still sniffling as I climb out of bed and go to my wardrobe to check on the outfit I’ve already pre-picked – a black shift dress with gold detailing that I’ll pair with a chunky mustard knit, some tights and ankle boots. The dress and cardigan are new. Having looked in my wardrobe on Saturday morning (Yes, I planned my outfit today two days ago – that’s how important it is), I was still majorly underwhelmed by its offerings so decided to go on a mini shop. Totally justified seeing as today isn’t just a normal working day … it’s the start of my future.
‘Nah, think I’ll be able to wrangle another day,’ says Carly with a sigh.
‘Bet they’re going nuts with the amount of people off with this.’
‘Yeah …’ she exhales quietly, cuddling into my pillows.
‘I hope you don’t give it to me,’ I say, turning to her in mock distress as though she has the lurgies.
‘Doubt I will.’
She closes her eyes as though she’s about to go off to sleep again, but they close just a smidgen tighter than normal and cause her forehead to crease into a frown. When she bites the corner of her bottom lip, I know for certain that she’s trying her hardest not to cry.
‘Oh chick, you okay?’ I ask, going over and putting my arms around her.
She stops fighting it then and lets the tears flow freely as she sobs.
Carly never cries. Ever. Even when she was left stranded in Thailand with no purse or phone, after being mugged outside a temple, she remained calm and collected.
‘Oh, I’m sorry …’ she cries, flapping her arms in front of her eyes to stop herself from crying. It doesn’t work.
‘You don’t have to be sorry, Carly!’
She takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, lifting her hands over her face.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ she sobs.
‘Seriously? You’re going to try and tell me that nothing has made you bawl your eyes out?’
‘I’m just feeling emotional.’
‘Yeah, I gathered that …’
‘Argh,’ she moans, pulling the duvet cover up over her head and hiding her fac
e. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’
‘Carly, I might be the dumbest person in the world right now – but what’s going on?’
I’m greeted with silence as her body shakes along to her quietening sobs.
‘Please tell me,’ I ask softly, realizing she needs a softer approach than normal. ‘Maybe I can help.’
‘You can’t.’
‘You don’t know that.’
She brings down the duvet cover so I can see her face again. Scrap what I said earlier – now she really does look the worst I’ve ever seen her. Not only does she look sick and tired, her face is now red and bloated from her meltdown.
‘Come on,’ I encourage, sweeping her blonde hair off of her face. ‘You can tell me. Promise I won’t judge … in fact, I can’t judge – I’m just a dirty slutbag who has sex dreams about strangers. I’m disgusting.’
‘You are,’ she nods with a pout, managing a slight smile.
I grab hold of her hand and pull her into my arms for a hug, meaning her head is resting just above my boobs – bad time not to be wearing a bra, but I’m guessing my free boobs are the last things on her mind right now.
‘I’m so stupid,’ she exhales.
‘You are,’ I agree, hoping to make her laugh.
‘Thanks,’ she says, squeezing into me.
We don’t talk for a few minutes. Instead, I let her lie there while I play with her hair – even though I know this delay means that I’m eating into my preparation time. However, thanks to us getting up so early I’m sure I won’t be late – it might just mean I have to chuck my hair up in a messy up-do rather than blowdry it … which is totally fine because my friend clearly needs me.
I hear Carly lick her lips like she’s about to speak, but still there’s a moment before any sound actually makes it out, as though she’s really weighing up whether she should share whatever is troubling her.
She sighs heavily.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she says flatly.
We both stop breathing as those words are released into the room.
I can’t see her face because her head is still resting above my boobs, and I’m really glad she can’t see mine, because as soon as those words are released into the room my jaw drops in shock. That’s not what I was expecting. At all.
‘What? You sure?’
‘That’s what the tests say,’ she squeaks, as she sits up and turns to look at me.
I rearrange my face into something that seems a little less horrified – which is good as I’m sure she’s looking at me so closely to gauge my reaction.
‘And you’ve double-checked?’ I ask.
‘Yep. Peed on a stick fourteen times – I’m one hundred per cent up the duff … there’s a bun cooking in my oven.’
‘Whoa.’
‘Whoa?’ She exclaims. ‘Sarah, what am I going to do? Me, with a baby? That’s crazy.’
My mind wanders back to the dream I had with the dozens of serene mothers and the abandoned baby in the empty lift – I wonder if some part of me had picked up on what was going on with Carly without me realizing. Perhaps it wasn’t my own maternal instincts I’ve been picking up on … Or is that loading too much significance on the crazy world of sleep? Possibly. Although the fun I’ve been having in them lately – there’s no way I want to brush them off as a collection of leftover thoughts waiting to be discarded by a busy brain. No, no, no … crazy space sex is the way forward, even if my dreams do leave me gagging for it and highly frustrated when I wake up.
‘Who’s the dad?’ I ask, refocusing on the conversation in hand and trying to remember whether Carly’s been on any dates in the last month or so. I’m pretty sure she’s not brought anyone back here (not that I know of anyway), but has she stayed out at all?
‘I can’t say right now,’ she frowns, biting her lip.
‘Does he know?’
‘Yeah,’ she nods. ‘I told him straight away.’
‘And?’
‘I think he needs some time to think …’ her voice peters out, so she shrugs instead and fiddles with her hands in her lap. ‘What a mess.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘A week. Slightly longer. It was fine at first. I didn’t feel any different. I only did the test because I was a bit late – I didn’t actually expect it to come back positive. And these tests – they actually say the word pregnant. There’s no faffing around or getting it wrong – it’s there for you in bold writing for you to cry over.’ She shakes her head manically as the tears threaten to spill once more. ‘God, I’ve been so emotional!’
‘I can see that.’
‘Seriously, I’ve been feeling so sick. It’s awful. And the bloating? I feel like I’m six months gone already.’
‘You don’t look it.’
‘I ripped my skirt!’
‘Oh God!’ I laugh, remembering the night she had to come back to the house to change.
‘My body just changed overnight. It’s bonkers.’ She pauses and looks at me with a bewildered half-smile, her eyes sad and worried. ‘There’s just so much to think about, you know?’
I nod, but the truth is I can’t even begin to imagine the thoughts that are going through my best friend’s head.
‘I don’t know how you’ve kept this to yourself.’
‘It wasn’t easy, in fact that’s been one of the hardest things.’
‘So none of our group know?’
She shakes her head.
‘Shit … this is massive.’
‘Life changing.’
‘Yeah …’
‘No more wild nights out, no more going travelling with just my backpack for company … that’s it. Still, I guess I always knew I’d have to settle down and grow up some time.’
‘How will your parents take it?’
‘Oh, they’ll be fine – delighted even. I’m not worried about them at all.’
Carly’s parents met working on a cruise ship. She was the result of a quick bonk on her dad’s last day on board. He didn’t even know about Carly until he heard through someone at work that her mum had given birth. In what then became one of the most romantic stories of all time, he hunted her down and proposed to her on her front doorstep. Twenty-eight years and two more children later they’re still going strong despite the unconventional start, and now run a guesthouse in the Lake District. So it’s not too surprising to think they’d deal with the situation with compassion and love – unlike my own mother, who’d probably disown me.
‘Do you want me to stay home today?’ I offer, knowing that the suggestion is far from ideal, but something I would do without question if she wanted me to. ‘You know me – I’d do anything for a day on the sofa,’ I shrug.
‘No, you’re all right.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah. Besides, isn’t today an important one for you?’
‘Slightly,’ I smile, pursing my lips at the thought of leaving her like this. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Yeah … I’m just not ready to go to work yet. I’d rather immerse myself in crappy TV and live in denial a little longer.’
‘You take your time.’
Carly nods in agreement, breathes in deeply and exhales with force.
‘You’ll get through this. You’ve got all us guys around you.’
She breaks down into sobs once more.
It’s heartbreaking to see my strong, funny and carefree friend in such a vulnerable, frightened and sickly state.
I throw my arms around her shaking shoulders and hold her.
15
I’m a mixture of emotions when I finally leave the house – I’m worried about Carly and all of the life-changing decisions that must be clogging up her brain right now, but I’m also still giddy from last night’s dream and excitedly nervous for the day ahead.
With the sun shining as I make my way to the tube, I can’t help but feel positive about what’s in store. I feel like skipping along the canal, sliding down the escalators on t
he Underground, spinning around the poles on the trains and clicking my heels all the way up to the office front door.
Today is going to be a good day, I tell myself as I arrive at my desk fifteen minutes early.
With a grin I grab the notebook and pen from my bag and pop them to the side of my computer before heading to the loo to ensure I’m one hundred per cent ready when Jonathan and the newbie walk through the door. Unfortunately, I never did get time for that blowdry this morning so had to opt for plan B and a high bun instead – it’s not one to rival the awesomeness of Alastair’s man bun, but at least my hair isn’t all frizzy and in my face.
‘Is he here yet?’ Julie asks as she speed-walks in the door ten minutes after me, looking flushed from her commute.
‘Who?’
‘Brett.’
‘Brett?’ I ask. I know there is more than one Brett in the world, but even so – given my crazy nightly escapades with Brett Last the name still catches me by surprise and makes me wonder if I’m actually still dreaming.
‘Yes, Brett. Dominique’s replacement – is he here yet?’ Julie asks again, looking around the empty office. ‘I’m guessing not,’ she concludes, taking her bag off her shoulder and hastily placing it underneath her desk.
‘No, he’s not.’
‘He struck me as someone who’d be early to everything,’ she continues, removing her camel trench coat and wool scarf and hanging them on the hook outside Derek’s door. ‘No doubt he’s waiting up the road, having a coffee – not wanting to be first into the office.’
‘Maybe,’ I reply.
‘Hopefully not the last in, though,’ she chuckles to herself.
Clearly I’m not the only person excited about today.
‘What’s he like then?’ I ask, realizing that I’ve been so consumed in myself over the last week that I haven’t actually asked much about the new member of the team. Probably because I haven’t wanted to hear all the great things that bagged him the job – and, in turn, realize the qualities that I clearly lack.
‘Oh he’s lovely. Really handsome, too,’ winks Julie.
‘Really?’ I ask, raising my eyebrows at her in disbelief.
‘Really,’ she laughs.
Julie’s taste is somewhat questionable – a fact I usually tease her over, so I decide to wait and see for myself.
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