Turning Point

by Georgia Hamilton

  My notifications pings before I have a chance to put it back in my drawer, the smile I had when I picked it up disappears as I see it’s another message from my sperm donor. I blame the euphoria of the moment on Connor and decide I should actually reply. He seems to be genuine in the messages he’s sending. He just wants to get to know me, he must have apologised a million times so far. It won’t hurt to reply, would it? There’s no harm in maybe meeting up with him, is there?

  I need Ma or Leilani, I just want to run it by someone, Connor is in his meeting and I don’t want to tie him up. I am a grown ass woman, there is no need to ask for permission for anyone or anything.

  I start typing into the reply box.

  I got your messages, sorry it has been a lot to take in. I am open to meeting for a coffee one afternoon. I have no expectation so do not worry about that, but putting a face to a name would be good

  Does that sound too harsh? I don’t want to be mean, but I am not into this sweetness and light bullshit either.

  Before I can change my mind, I press send. Off it goes into the ether that is the world-wide whatever.

  Setting my phone in to my desk drawer, I get on with my day. I’ve got a date with a sporting events company and a celebrity dog trainer – oh the glamour.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  I have never been so pleased to see my lounge. My feet are killing me today. After the meeting with the events company – which could not have gone better, I had to do a new client review with the celebrity dog trainer, one of the cable channels has picked him up for a 6-part series and they want me to handle the press. Not my typical gig but it should be fun. The remainder of the afternoon was a presentation to the board, they have been trying for the last year to promote me to a director but having sat through so many of these boring meetings, I much prefer my office with a view and my eclectic clients.

  I text Connor to say I was home, he has to stay in Manchester for another night, they’ve got a lead on another car that he is checking out tonight so will call me when he gets back to the hotel.

  I figure I have at least an hour or so before he calls so run myself an epic bath, Epsom salts and everything, I grab a glass of wine and put on another playlist on Soundcloud. I have become a little obsessed since Connor introduced me last night. There is no more uplifting feeling than music pumping through your veins. Good music is medicine for the soul.

  I haven’t felt this carefree for a while, not when I am faced with a night in on my own, usually I only feel this excited when I am getting ready to meet Leilani and hit the town. Allowing myself a little day dream, I imagine that Connor is on his way home to me. That any minute now he will come home, see that I am in the bath, strip off and come and join me. I have never seen Connor naked, so I can only use my imagination. Having seen his arms and felt his chest, I know he’s built like a brick wall, I visualise him, in my mind, his body is smooth, like a team of tanned silk, I am itching to drape over me. I can almost smell him that heady musky scent that’s so powerful yet also light not heavy. I really need to know what it is so I can wear it – to bed...

  My imagination has taken over and I actually move forward in the bath, imagining him getting in bed me, I grab my pouf, dousing it in my body wash, the harsh mesh is rough against my skin, sensations already heightened from hedonistic thoughts of Connor, the jarring seems to add a new dynamic to my arousal. Each coarse stroke against my skin sending shots of pleasure to my core, I had hoped it would ease the pressure but instead it’s just making it build. The images of Connor that I have had to build up in my mind I think are exaggerated, I have taken perfection and sprinkled a little fantasy on top giving me the perfect man. I allow my hands to run over me, wishing it was him on me not me on me.

  The burden of pleasure, what the hell? Burden of pleasure? HORNY, I am HORNY!

  Ok, so we have established that I am horny, fantasizing about Connor, imaging his body (based purely on the bits I have felt and the bits I have seen, not enough of either for my liking but I digress) here with me, behind me, on top of me, in me. My hands are no substitute for what I have felt of him but the memories of what we have had so far do nothing but help me accelerate over the edge. I scare myself with the shrill that escapes me as my orgasm peaks. I sag back into the bath and slip under the water. I am far from satisfied. Far from sated I feel hollow and empty. Lonely.

  It is not until much later, after another glass of wine that I realise I haven’t heard from Connor. I try not to be disappointed, I know he is busy with work, I know he has other priorities. Doesn’t make me wish I wasn’t at the top of his. I go through my phone, staking the pages of peoples ‘picture perfect’ lives. The fancy foods, new cars, holidays and declarations of love. I do a search for Connor, I can’t believe I have never thought about looking for him. Its then I realise I don’t even know his last name. How can I be so caught up with someone, know so much about him, yet I don’t even know something as small as his last name.

  My inbox has a red 1 in the corner – well someone wants me.

  It’s from Mack. He wants to meet for a coffee tomorrow. Asking me I work so he can meet nearby. I don’t want to give away too much. This man has been absent for over 20 years. I don’t want him to know more than I am willing to give. I suggest a coffee shop at the station near my office. 2pm. Late enough for it to be quiet but early enough that lots of people will be around. I’m not worried just like to forward plan.

  Deciding that, as much as I want to stay not strong and not bow to being a stereotypical female, I need to text Connor. I believe that we are in a different place to just dating. I shouldn’t be scared. I shouldn’t be apprehensive. It’s just a message.

  Hey, hope you’ve had a productive day. Just wanted to say Goodnight. Speak tomorrow x

  There. Not needy. Not demanding. Short and sweet.

  So why am I now second guessing everything, why do I feel like I am stalking him, it’s the first time he hasn’t called when he said he would, in fact he calls even when he hasn’t said he would. He keeps me on my toes by doing things that make me melt. Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrghhhhhhhh! Men need to come with a manual. What does silence mean? Is he thinking about me? Has something happened to him? Would that be the only reason he hasn’t called me? Who would let me know? He hasn’t got any family; would Bea call me to tell me? Why would she we’re not even boyfriend and girlfriend. Oh my god I am a lusty teenager again. “get a grip Rayne” I slam my phone down and go to bed. I cannot sit here driving myself insane.

  I don’t hear my phone ring in the middle of the night. I don’t feel the vibration of the messages hitting my inbox. The first I know about any of it is when I wake up. I am still wearing the smile and its 1.45 in the afternoon and I am making my way to the coffee shop to meet Mack.

  I know you’re sleeping now, and I am glad I didn’t wake you with my selfish call. Today has been good but would have been better if I could speak to you. I have sourced 3 of the 5 cars – go me! My phone died, and I didn’t know your number to call you. I now know it off by heart, so you’ll never miss a call from me again. Not sure if I can wait until Saturday to see you, but I will, if I have to. Sweet dreams beautiful xx

  He might know my number off by heart (how cute is that) I know that message off by heart because I have read it 100 times.

  I told him we’d speak tonight – with maybe a few emojis