at the pathetic lonely club meeting atop the swankiest penthouse in all of Manhattan.
He pulls away after giving my lips another peck. “Oh, lovely, I didn’t know I’d be shagging a funny lawyer.” His face splits into a grin from ear to ear. The way his eyes catch the light from the window and glisten is exquisite. I need to stop looking in his eyes and come up with a plan. I push him away in jest and lie down on my back. My body hums with excitement as though electric currents zing through me, making everything tingle. I haven’t had these kinds of feelings in years; I almost feel like a teenager, not a thirty-year-old anything. If I had to describe this moment to Em, I’d say “What A Feeling” by Irene Cara.
“Do you also like to sing ‘80s songs and dance naked?” he asks, practically reading my mind until the second part of his question registers in my head. I feel a screech, halt, and stop from his words. Sara, you dumbass! This dude has been with Emily, my best friend. Emily, the one I’m supposed to be helping make this British ass go away, not make him stay and convince him to come inside me. My excitement is extinguished, my smile has died, and I’m back to the real Sara Klein, attorney at law.
I try to sit up as Liam lowers himself on top of me, sensing the mood change. “I’m sorry! Forgive me! I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I shouldn’t be bringing Emily up since she’s your mate. I assure you, I’m not an arse that just bangs everything he meets. I haven’t been with anybody since Emily.” He kisses the tip of my nose as he rolls off me and spreads out by my side. He takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine. “Maybe we should start over. What if we could have a go at meeting again like perfect strangers?”
“Do strangers lie in bed holding hands?” I ask, trying but failing to sound sarcastic; I’m just stating a fact.
“It’s our world, Sara. In this world, strangers actually meet in bed. Holding hands is a special kind of handshake. They kiss each other for a bit with their eyes wide open and they talk about what makes them sad, and then they touch each other for a bit longer and talk some more. If they fancy holding hands, kissing, talking, and touching, they sometimes proceed to the next stage of their courtship and make love.”
I like his level of delusion, it almost sounds made-up and pain free. It sounds easy, with very little expectations or broken promises. “Sorry, Liam, your world only exists in books. What happens when the real world catches up to our made-up world?” I ask him, not expecting an answer. I close my eyes and try to imagine a new world I desperately need to find for myself.
“We don’t let it. Only we can make it real and then nobody can take it away. It will be our world. We just have to want it badly enough and choose each other.” I look over at him and he’s also lying on his back with his eyes closed, no doubt wishing he were somewhere, anywhere but here with me. We’re still holding hands, and suddenly, as I look at our joined hands, I admit to myself that I do want to be a chosen part of someone’s world more than anything…but who and what will that new world cost me?
“To Be With You” by Mr. Big
I used to believe that tits and knobs could be mates, but nope, that is complete made-up dribble. If knob and tits fancy one another, even a tiny wee bit, they will find a way to play naked together. Yesterday, I made eye contact with an American girl at a pub, I later rescued her from a drunken wanker only to see that same bird in bed with a bloke I could bet my left nut was Louis Bruel. I am now in a different bed with that same American chick, offering companionship when all my cock and I really want is a chance to play naked. Like I always say, tits and knobs can’t be mates; they can try, they can pretend, but most of the time, they will find a way to play naked.
I am well aware of the sort of arse I seem to be for wanting to be with