It’s been a week since my last entry; a week of long days, late nights, and early starts. I haven’t been so tired for a long, long time.
My period came – so no baby yet. And I’ve been too whacked out to make love – the man, bless him, has been very understanding. I get a cuddle and a kiss, and I drift off to sleep with his big hand cupping my breast.
Lunch has been taken at my desk; I suppose the regulars at the bar think I’ve abandoned them for pastures new, or found something else to occupy my time. I wonder how the barista did in his final exams.
Anna rang late a few nights ago to say that the new man wasn’t working out as well as originally thought, and she was seriously contemplating giving him his marching orders.
“It’s not the sex,” she assured me. “That’s still reasonably good. It’s his table manners for one, he shovels his food in like a Chinaman; then he never puts the toilet seat down, and worst of all, he leaves the condoms on the floor after we fuck, and I always have to pick them up and throw them away. I call that unreasonable behaviour and grounds for dismissal. What do you think?”
“I think that you are restless and that your unhappiness has nothing to do with his eating habits, his toilet routine, or his condom depositing,” I told her. “You don’t love him, that’s all. You always needed to be in love with your lovers, even if it was just for a little while.”
“You know me so well. Shame you aren’t a guy, I’d marry you in a heart-beat, and I know we’re good in bed together.”
“I love you too,” I said, “I don’t suppose you still have that strap-on?”
She laughed so loudly I had to take the phone from my ear. “No, I threw it in the trash when we left university” she got out eventually. “I haven’t thought about that in years. Have you ever, with any other women, I mean?”
“No. Have you?”
The hesitation told me that she was on the verge of lying. “Yes…..once,” she said, finally. “But that’s not something we can talk about over the phone. We don’t know who’s listening and reporting to the erotica police. I’ll tell you about it when we meet up.”
When I’d hung up the phone I sat in the quiet thinking about Ingrid. I haven’t heard from her in a while. I believe she’s out of the country. Or it could just be that she’s decided to put some time and distance between us. Christian had let it slip that she’d had a short fling with a designer. He didn’t know why it didn’t last.
Christian tried to entice me to another one of his hedonist parties, even though he knows I won’t participate in the acrobatics again. Not after what happened the last time. And especially not now I am trying to produce a family.
He mentioned that the Italian was back in town and has been seen with a red-head with large breasts and a big ass. I wondered whether it was the same one.
After Back in touch -> Red rag