Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

H ave I ever been more worn out physically and mentally?

No. Never.

A weekend spent with Alistair Warner is not for the faint of heart. I’m not sure there is a surface left in his apartment that we haven’t christened. Multiple times.

I turn my head to look over at him. He’s asleep. Finally. I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours for him to fall asleep. I need to go home, and whenever I’ve broached the subject over the past two days, he’s distracted me with more orgasms.

It hasn’t just been sex either. We’ve talked. A lot. We even played card games, which turned into us betting sexual favours to make things more interesting. Ever played Go Fish where the prize for winning is twenty minutes of Alistair Warner going downtown?

I have. And let me tell you, I was not going to lose that game. Although, I do wonder if he let me win. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy going down on me.

One of us has to break this bubble that we’ve created. It’s Sunday afternoon and I really do need to go home, do laundry, prepare for the upcoming work week. All of the above.

I slide out from underneath his arm. Every time I have to sneak out on him, my heart pounds like he’s going to wake up and catch me. I’m not sure what he’ll do, but I do know he hates it. I just need to get home. It’s either that or end up having to go to work tomorrow wearing his clothes. Which will only happen when hell freezes over.

Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, I find my clutch on the entrance table and stab at the elevator button, cringing when the doors ping open, the noise echoing through the silent apartment. The ride down is eerily quiet, but as soon as I hit the street outside of his building, the sounds of the city on a Sunday afternoon surround me. People walking dogs, joggers, mums pushing strollers. I call for an Uber on my phone and wait all of two minutes for the driver to pull up in front of me.

“Hi, thank you,” I say, climbing into the back seat.

“Hey, how’s your day been?” the driver asks.

“Good,” I answer, then pull up the group message on my phone with my friends.

Me:

Pizza, wine. Now!

Their responses flow in immediately, and I can’t help but wonder if there ever is a time when their phones aren’t in their hands.

Daisy:

I got the wine.

Eloise:

I’ll get the pizza.

Claire:

I’ll bring myself then.

Me:

Thank you.

“Another.” I hold up my glass for Claire to refill.

“Are you sure? It’s a school night,” she questions while topping me off anyway.

“Maybe I’ll call in sick,” I lie.

I haven’t used a sick day in over two years. Even with the whole Hunter thing, I didn’t take time off. I cancelled the leave that was meant to be my honeymoon and carried on working. Work is my coping mechanism for shitty life events. It’s a great distraction. Or at least it was before I was working for the lady Viagra man.

“Argh, why does he have to be so good at sex?” I groan.

“You did meet him in a sex club,” Daisy says.

“Don’t remind me.” I run a hand down my face. “I just… I need… I don’t know what I need but I’m pretty sure it’s not Alistair Warner.”

“Or he’s exactly what you need,” Eloise argues.

“How so?”

“Well, according to you, he gives out the world’s best orgasms. That in itself is worth holding on to. He’s successful, hot as hell, and… I don’t know what else but that should be enough,” she counters.

“He’s also cynical about relationships. He doesn’t commit to anyone because he thinks every relationship ends up in a battle.”

“He’s a divorce attorney. What’d you expect?” Daisy asks.

“I don’t know? Someone who’s not such a commitment-phobe.”

“Has he said that he won’t commit to you?” Claire asks.

“No,” I answer truthfully.

“Well, what are you worried about?” Daisy continues to press me.

“That’ I’m getting in too deep, and when it blows up in my face, it’s going to hurt worse than the Hunter episode,” I admit.

“Now who’s the cynic?” Eloise asks. “Look, just have fun. See what plays out. Honestly, I haven’t seen you this… satisfied in… well, ever. Man, Hunter really must have been a dud root,” she adds.

“Argh, why do you all have to make sense all the time?” I groan.

“Because you don’t have stupid friends.” Daisy grins.

“Right.” I nod my head in agreement.

“Well, I hate to love and leave you all, but I do have to adult tomorrow so I’m out,” Claire says.

“Me too.” Eloise gets up off the sofa.

“Me three,” Daisy adds before pushing to her feet and joining them.

“Me four.” I stand and follow them. After closing and locking my door behind the girls, I tidy up the left over pizza, put the wine away, and load the dishwasher.

Once I fix the sofa cushions and wipe down the coffee table, I head into the shower. There is nothing like a nice, relaxing, hot shower to wash away stress. I don’t even know why I’m stressed. Really, I should be the most relaxed woman on the planet with the amount my body climaxed this weekend.

Turning on the faucet, I wait for the bathroom to steam up before I strip off and stand under the hot stream. Then I tilt my head back and let the water fall down my face. I squirt a handful of shampoo in my palm and rub the soap through my hair. The scent of lavender fills the room. After rinsing the shampoo out, I repeat the process with conditioner. Letting that set in my hair, I sit on the floor and pick up my razor. I shave my legs, all the other important parts, and then stand back up and wash out the conditioner. The water is starting to chill, so I quickly clean up with bodywash and shut off the tap. Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around me before wiping my hand over the mirror to defog it.

As I stare at my reflection, I try to pinpoint what’s different about me. What’s changed?

I’m not too sure what it is, but something has. My eyes are more vibrant, even though I’m tired as hell. My skin, almost glowing. Opening the cabinet, I pull out my face scrub. I rub it all over, wash it off, and then apply a mud mask. This is what I needed. A night with my girls and then this. Some TLC time.

I head out to the kitchen to grab another glass of wine. I plan on sitting in bed with my wine and my Kindle. I’m sure I’ll be asleep before I get through a chapter of my current read. Pulling the wine out of the fridge, I fill a glass to the brim and sip at it before I pick it up and make my way back to my bedroom. I place the cup on the bedside table and jump when there’s a pounding on my front door.

That can’t be any of the girls because: one, they wouldn’t pound on my door like that ever, and two, they all have keys. Whoever is banging on my door, desperate to get inside, obviously does not have a key.

I pick up the baseball bat I sleep next to and tiptoe towards the sound. Peering through the peephole, I relax when I see Alistair on the other side. I pull the door open, and his fist stops midair.

“What the hell are you doing here? Trying to break down my damn door or something?” I seethe at him.