by Carmen Reid
Just for good measure she added: ‘How dare you phone up to insult me? You kept telling me one day you’d move to the country and restore antique furniture, so why don’t you sod off and do it?’
Damn, she instantly regretted that, but cunt! Cunt? How dare he?
At that moment, she glanced over to the door and saw Chris grinning at her and giving her the thumbs up. That was all she needed, Susan’s number two listening in on this. Quickly she added: ‘Mr Proctor, I’m very busy, you’ll have to excuse me. Thank you for your call.’
She heard an astonished gasp, but put the phone down before he could say anything else.
‘Phew, you tell them Bella,’ Chris grinned at her. ‘Just sod off to the country and restore antique furniture. I must remember that the next time someone calls me a cocksucker.’
‘Chris, you heartless shit,’ she said, relieved he was treating this lightly. ‘I’m really embarrassed you heard that. Are you going to fire me now?’ She asked with a little arch of her eyebrows.
‘No,’ he paused for effect, ‘but I may have to get very firm with you, Ms Browning.’ Then he added: ‘Just try not to make too many enemies for life. Anyway, how was your weekend?’
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘Don wasn’t around so I did girlie things, you know, drank ten pints of lager, did three lines of coke, shagged a complete stranger in the toilets.’
He gave her an intrigued look.
‘I’m joking, Chris.’ Then the penny dropped. ‘Oh!! You actually did that. Well you’re a lucky boy, but at your age you have to think of your health, you know.’
‘I’m only 34!’
‘Mmm, but you have the added stress of being a senior partner,’ she teased.
‘A job you would probably kill me to get. Which is why I never send you out for sandwiches.’
‘I’d never go!’
‘Bella –’ he reached for the door handle. ‘It’s been a pleasure as always, but we have lots of work to put together before this afternoon’s meeting. Merris, Petersham, any queries, I’m next door, watching you through my spyhole.’
‘See you later,’ she said and he was gone, leaving her with a slightly too flirtatious smile on her face.
There was another knock on the door.
‘Come in.’ She knew it was Hector. Hector, the fresh out of university new boy who seemed never to tire of telling them about his heroic Highland pedigree. And that was just one of his many annoying qualities.
‘You wanted to see me?’ He poked a tousled head round the door.
‘Yes,’ she said.
He came in, looking arrogantly crumpled, as usual. He still bought into that boho tweedy suit, pashmina, I’m not going to conform or try too hard kind of look. He was a very brilliant guy: why else would he be working here? But he really was going to have to get it together.
He sat down on the chair opposite her desk.
‘So, what is this piece of crap?’ She tossed a thick, spiral-bound report onto the desk.
‘Ah, I was wondering if a few inaccuracies might have crept in.’
‘A few inaccuracies!!’ She picked the report up again. ‘Let me just open it at random . . . 32 per cent of £586,000? That is . . .’ she barely paused, ‘£187,520. Yet unbelievably, you’ve got £28,500 down here. Totally, utterly out of the ball park.’
‘Well, I suppose I’m not a mathematical genius like you, Bella,’ he had the nerve to reply.
‘What does that have to do with it? Why don’t you buy yourself a sodding calculator?’ she snapped. ‘In fact go and buy a proper sodding suit while you’re at it. It’s about time you sharpened up.’
He looked up at her rather surprised, but she continued: ‘You’ve been here for four months now and you don’t seem to have learned anything. This report is about a major company, you were working out their profits, their losses, their expenses. Your mistakes could have cost hundreds of thousands of pounds, could have cost people their jobs. This is not a game, Hector, this is not a theoretical problem you discuss in a tutorial. Christ. It’s all very well having potential if you’re 10. There comes a time when you have to prove it.’
There was a long pause.
Hector wondered why Bella was holding the report right in front of her face and shaking slightly.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
He was surprised to hear a snort of laughter emerge from behind the pages.
‘Oh God,’ she put the report down on the table. ‘You really deserve a strip torn off you, but I can’t do this with a straight face.’
‘Er . . . I’m sorry. Do you want me to do it again?’ he asked.
‘No, I’ve already sorted it. Will you just try and concentrate hard on the next thing you get from me?’
‘Yeah, sorry.’
When Bella was on her own in her office again, she laughed at herself. ‘Potential is all very well if you’re 10’ – she suspected she’d read that on a billboard somewhere.
She lit up another cigarette, took a deep drag and massaged her temples. This was turning into one hell of a day.
There was another knock and Kitty came in with an enormous bouquet of flowers.
‘You thought we’d all forgotten, didn’t you?’
‘Forgotten what?’ Bella asked.
‘Your birthday, you idiot.’
‘Oh God . . . thanks.’ She went over to take the flowers, reading the note signed by all four of them.
‘Thanks,’ she said again, looking round her room and wondering where to put them.
‘There’s a vase at reception, shall I keep them out there till the end of play?’ Kitty asked.
‘Yeah, you’re a star, Kitty. I bet everyone else would have forgotten.’
Nine hours later, after hundreds of calls, calculations and a gruelling meeting with Chris and Susan, Bella was finally tapping in her last memo and tidying her desk for the day. It was 7.15 p.m. when Chris appeared at the door to ask if she was coming for a drink over the road.
She declined because, at last, it was time to get home to Don. The traffic was infuriatingly slow all the way back across town, so she redid her make-up, sprayed on perfume and flipped through her CDs before giving up in disgust and enduring the radio. She couldn’t wait to see Don again. Three whole weeks: it was the longest they’d ever been apart.
When she finally made it back to the block she swung open the front door, ran to the lift and impatiently jabbed on the button over and over again until the doors pinged open.
In the flat everything was still and for a heart-crushing moment she thought Don hadn’t been able to make it back. Then she saw his bag and his battered oilskin coat in the hall. Quietly she walked through to the bedroom. The curtains were closed and Don was lying in bed fast asleep.
She was so happy to see him she felt her stomach flip. She moved closer to take a long look at him. His face was brown against the white pillow, but tired and drawn. His thick steely-grey hair was rumpled and still wet from the shower he must have taken. His glasses were on the bedside table and he looked deliciously clean and freshly shaven.
She was sure he was naked under the duvet and she couldn’t help herself, she longed to feel his body against hers. She put down her bags and coat, took off her shoes and undressed, then slid into the bed beside him, curling her naked body up against her husband’s warm, naked back. Wrapping her arms round him, she put her nose to the nape of his neck, breathing in the smell of the sandalwood soap she’d been using too because she missed him so much: ‘Hello Don,’ she whispered.
He stirred a little and answered with a ‘hmm’ so she moved closer. She ran her hands down his warm, fuzzy chest and stomach until she reached his sleeping cock.
A longer, throatier ‘mmmm’ came from him now as she held his cock in her hands.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you going to wake up and say hi?’
‘Oh yes,’ he answered, surfacing from sleep now. He rolled round to face her and kissed her on the lips.
Then he smiled, creasing the skin round his eyes and looking at her with so much love and longing she felt a lump in her throat.
‘Hon, I’m so glad to be back, you have no idea,’ he said in a voice still thick with sleep.
‘I’ve missed you too.’ She kissed him back, winding her legs round his, pulling him so close their pubic hair brushed together and she could feel his cock stir against her as he moved his hands down from her waist to her buttocks.
‘I still can’t believe I’m married to you . . .’ he said, in between small hungry kisses, ‘and you’re naked!’
He kissed her properly now, squeezing her into him and parting her lips with his tongue. She tasted his hot, minty mouth.
As he pulled her up against his hard erection, she wound her fingers into his hair and placed teasing kisses on his neck and round his ear.
‘I have missed you so much,’ she whispered.
‘I’ve missed you too, especially your breasts,’ he said with a smile, gently stroking and licking at her nipples and the soft white skin around them.
They felt and touched and kissed and licked until she rolled over and pulled him on top of her. Watching her face, he pushed inside and slowly moved in and out all the way along the length of his penis.
‘You tease,’ she murmured, holding her hands on his hips and moving him faster until they were gasping together in a fast and frantic fuck.
When they fell apart, they were slightly sweaty and breathing heavily.
‘God you’re good,’ she said with a smile. ‘I still can’t believe you’re my husband. I mean husbands are meant to wear slippers and wash the car, not give a girl multiple orgasms.’
‘All in a day’s work!’ he answered.
‘Hey!’ she sat up, loving the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts. ‘You better not have forgotten it’s my birthday today.’
‘I phoned you first thing, remember.’
‘Yeah, you phoned, but where is my large, expensive present?’
‘Bella, I’ve just come back from a war zone, there wasn’t much to buy . . . give me a chance.’
She didn’t know what to say. Maybe she was being unfair. What could Chechen Duty Free have had to offer?
‘But . . .’ he leaned over to fish about under the bed, ‘I did get you this.’ He handed her a big, khaki green furry hat with earflaps. ‘Genuine Russian Army issue,’ he said with a mischievous smile.
‘Oh! Thanks.’ She tried to look appreciative, then added, ‘My first ever birthday present from you. Next year, remind me to get a different husband.’
‘And –’ he reached under the bed – ‘I can’t tell you how hard I had to barter on the black market to get this.’ He turned round and presented her with a glossy pink box tied with ribbon.
‘Happy birthday.’
She untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was an extravagant set of lilac and black silk underwear. A lace-trimmed bra and G-string, a camisole top and French knickers. She picked the bra up and looked at the label – correct size. She was impressed. Black market ha, ha.
‘Is this a present for me or for you?’ she asked, but before he could answer, said: ‘Thank you very much. You’re very sweet,’ and kissed him on the mouth.
‘Oh good, I’m glad you like them, because I really like them. Now stay there,’ he said, getting out of bed and putting his dressing gown on.
‘I’m opening the wine, ordering Chinese, and I’m going to try and persuade you to spend the whole evening in bed with me.’
‘Well, OK then, since I now have the outfit for it,’ she said, lifting the camisole out of the box.
They ate the food in bed and made each other laugh, Bella talking about work and Don telling war stories.
‘God, I do wonder if I’m getting a bit old for it, though,’ he said, serious for a moment.
‘Will you stop it?’ she told him. ‘You are not old, you’re 41, you’re very fit,’ she leaned over, letting her dressing gown fall open and kissing him on the forehead.
‘In many ways, you’re like a man half your age,’ she teased.
He pulled her across so she was sitting in his lap. ‘Thank you for your vote of confidence darling,’ he kissed her on the mouth.
‘Yeuuck, black bean sauce.’ She screwed up her face in mock horror.
‘I’m going to kiss you somewhere else then.’ He dropped her down onto her back and began to kiss her breasts and her stomach. Then he moved down to her pubic hair and blew on it gently. She drew one foot up, bending her knee.
He pressed his tongue onto her small nub of clitoris, listening to her sharp intakes of breath, then rolled her hard nipples between his fingers and thumbs. She said in a soft voice: ‘Mmmm. This is what every girl needs on her birthday. It’s much nicer than cake and less fattening.’
He pulled himself up over her and she moved her legs apart so he could enter.
She tensed every muscle for his thrusts and he felt her coming underneath him, clinging to his body to soak up the pleasure of his every move.
He took much longer and finally came as she was screwing up her eyes and whispering to him: ‘I can’t do this much longer . . . I can’t . . .’
She kept him on top of her, feeling his penis slowly fall out of the spermy wetness between her legs and a huge sense of satisfaction welled up inside her as she thought about how she would not be taking her pill tonight, because she wanted to get pregnant.
Chapter Two
FLICKING THROUGH HER e-mails in the office, she was trying hard to think about the contract they were making a final pitch for next week, but her mind was wandering.
She couldn’t believe three months had gone by and she still wasn’t pregnant. Each period had been a surprisingly crushing disappointment.
Oh well, they’d just have to have more sex. Hardly an awful prospect.
‘Bella? Bella, hello!’ Kitty was at the door, in pink dungarees with a fluffy white cat apliquéed on the front pocket.
‘Yes?’ Bella stared at the cat.
‘Susan’s ready, you can go in now. Chris will be along in a minute.’
‘Thanks, hon . . . but what’s with the cat?’ Bella asked as she gathered up her papers and headed for Susan’s office.
‘Post-postmodern,’ Kitty replied.
Surprise, surprise, Susan was on the phone. She waved Bella in and pointed to a chair.
Bella’s one-time mentor and now her boss was in her forties, a rapier-thin, control freaky workaholic. She had scarily huge hair and only ever dressed in very expensive beige. She was married to an equally successful man. No kids.
Susan had been one of the stars at Laurence and Co., the fuck-off, major league consultancy firm Bella had joined after university. But Susan had left to set up on her own after a row with one of the MDs. There had been an almighty fuss, she was taken to court for breach of contract, they’d tried to drag her through the dirt, but it had all just made scary Sue even more determined to succeed. She’d finally agreed to let Bella join her a year later.
No matter how early Bella arrived at the office, Susan was there first and she always stayed late. Her only look was 100 per cent perfect and because she was constantly on her mobile, it was clipped to her waistband with a dainty headset which ran from her pearl-studded ear to her beige-brown mouth. This allowed her to tap into her tiny, shiny, titanium-cased laptop without a break in conversations.
‘Hello, Bella,’ she said as she finally ended the call, but didn’t take the headset off.
‘I was just speaking to Anne, you remember from the job last year? She’s just had a baby so I’m supposed to be all thrilled and excited for her. Good grief, I’m so glad you’re not planning to sprog. That’s why I hired you, really. I needed another woman, a good one. But I didn’t want someone who was going to go off and do the whole baby thing on me.’
Barely pausing for breath, she added: ‘No matter what working mothers tell you, no good career woman is ever the same afterwards. They
just haven’t got their whole mind on the job once they have children. In fact,’ she paused to give a little sarcastic smile, ‘They haven’t got their whole mind.’
Bella forced herself to return the smile, but suspected it had come out like a Cherie Blair grimace. She remembered exactly when she’d told Susan she didn’t want children. It was when she’d first approached – make that pestered – her for a job. Obviously it had never entered Susan’s head that now Bella was married, she might have changed her mind. It amazed Bella that Susan was often guilty of the most appalling sexist crap no male boss would dare to utter unless hidden in a pall of cigar smoke in the safe confines of a gentleman’s club.
Luckily she was saved from having to make any sort of answer by Chris coming in. The meeting kicked off.
It was a little short of 5 p.m. when they finished, but there wasn’t much else to do, so Susan sent them away early.
Bella headed for the car. The traffic looked grim but the sun was shining and she was going to drive with the roof down wearing her new sunglasses, so suddenly it didn’t seem too bad a prospect. She was in a long queue at a roundabout, when she gave Don a call on the mobile.
‘Hello, hon, it’s me.’
‘Hi Bella – do I hear traffic in the background? God, you’re not out of the office, are you?’
‘Yes, out early for good behaviour.’
‘I’m in town,’ he said. ‘Job’s nearly over, but I won’t have to go back to the newsroom now, so d’you want to meet up? We could go out for dinner round here somewhere.’
‘Uh-oh, you’ve forgotten about the drinks party!’
‘Errrrr . . .’
‘Drinkies, darling,’ she trilled in a silly voice, then added, ‘At eight-ish with Mel, Jasper, Lucy and somebody’s client. I can’t remember who’s paying for this one.’
‘Ahh,’ said Don, not at all disappointed. It was always fun going out to play with the City boys and girls.