Page 82 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
What happened?
The tube sat in a tunnel for ages, and a journey that should have taken twenty minutes ended up taking nearly twice as long so I had to run to get there so probably wasn’t looking ‘smart and elegant’, and the maître d’ couldn’t find my name on the reservation list – it turned out I was ‘plus guest Alison’ but eventually a very pretty woman in an insubstantial togatook me through to the restaurant – I was nervous in case I accidentally trod on her outfit and disrobed her. We had to squeeze past an influencer who’d set up her camera in the walkway and was talking incessantly, but at least I could look at the sculptures until she’d finished. It possibly wasn’t the best table in the house, being as close to the door as it was, and I did find it a bit distracting being right next to the influencer, but no complaints from me.
Guy was on his phone when I got there, being all executive and impressive. He looked at me without smiling, which really does it for me, and nodded at the waiter to fill my glass. The waiter waited for me to try the wine, so I did, obediently. It was flinty and dry and a bit salty for my taste. I wondered if Guy was going to order food for me too – but he pushed the menu over to me and then walked off to continue his conversation. When he got off the phone he checked that I hadn’t told anyone else at work I was coming here and said, ‘So what do you think of this place?’
I had another look around. ‘Loads of boobs. What’s not to like?’
‘Indeed. You can never have too many breasts in my opinion.’
I felt his gaze roam; he eyed mine up appreciatively. He also appreciated the gravity-defying breasts of the woman serving us, but in a way, he was showing me respect by not hiding the fact he was looking at them. He asked me briefly about my family and what it was like growing up in Little Minchcombe. Then he dealt with an email whilst I finished my wine and watched him and revelled in the situation. He wanted to hear about the Lamb and whether we knew the owner. Tobe completely honest, I didn’t want to ruin the vibe talking about Matthew Lloyd so I hedged it and asked him about the merger at work, but he told me that words like ‘merger’ didn’t mix with lunch, and went back to his phone for another email. I was relieved when the food arrived.
I quickly realised that ordering tagliatelle was an amateur move for a date. I had to attempt to eat it without splattering my outfit and chin. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it until Guy said, unsmiling, ‘You eat like a savage, Alice.’ When he told me the fact I didn’t give a fuck about having sauce all over me was giving him ideas, his eyes flashed and I self-consciously wiped my wet chin.
I swallowed and said that I hoped he was the sort to act on his ideas. I even quoted Blake at him (again – thank you,The Guide). ‘He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence, Guy,’ I said. ‘Maybe this would be a good time for a bathroom break?’
Guy surveyed me. ‘For a millennial you’re unusually forwards. So let’s be clear, Alice. I’m not fucking in a public bathroom. Look how it turned out for George Michael.’
‘No, of course not.’ I backpedalled quickly. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that we— I mean… Sorry if I gave the wrong idea.’
He called the waiter over for the bill, whilst I sweated and worried I’d blown it even faster than Charlotte had, and tried not to get too turned on by the way he straightened his cufflinks. Then, with the timing of a man who has honed power play, he leant closer. ‘I have a perfectly good bathroom back at the Carsons serviced apartment,’ he said softly, ‘so I’m going to fuck you there. Alice. If you want.’
It wasn’t a question. But then it didn’t need to be.
I didn’t even know Carsons had a serviced apartment. And I couldn’t tell you where it was. I was caught up on the journey. Guy may be anti-fucking-in-public, but he was certainly pro fingering on the back seat of the car – pro in both senses. At one point he even took a call. ‘What?’he sounded irritable. Then he looked directly at me as he said, to them, ‘You’ll have to deal with it yourself. I’ve got my hands full right now.’ It was seriously erotic. As we drew up at the apartment, Guy pulled down his cuffs and straightened his cufflinks, and my stomach tightened with lust. I don’t know how I’m going to cope with seeing those hands at work now – it was hard enough before. Guy led me straight through the principal bedroom and into the bathroom. I fleetingly thought about suggesting to him that we make use of the perfectly decent bed we’d just passed, but he clearly thought I was fixated on the bathroom idea and within seconds I wasn’t thinking about anything much other than what my boss was doing to me. (Apart from one annoying moment when I ran my hand down Guy’s back, feeling relieved at its smoothness and Matthew Lloyd’s smug grinning face appeared in my mind.)
How did it make you feel?
Successful, powerful, satiated, sexy – I got what I wanted – I shagged Guy Carmichael. (Physically I feel a little bit itchy – think I may have slight reaction to his stubble or his cologne or something, but at least it’s a reminder that it all really happened.)
How did your real-life experience compare to your manifestation?
So, so close. In fact, the sex was even better than I’d manifested. The taxi ride ranks top ten, and the actual sex was really hard and urgent, and he totally took charge, and although I’ve got a bruise on my hip from the sink, it was thrilling to see us in the bathroom mirror. Literally fantasy coming to fruition. It was a bit awkward afterwards when he called a car to take me back to the office whilst I was still doing up my bra, but you don’t get to his position in life by letting the grass grow, and essentially, I’d got what I wanted. Mostly. He didn’t ask me on another date but he did explain he had an important call and when I asked casually, just as I was leaving, if he’d be back at work later, he called me ‘greedy Alice’ in an appreciative way, before shutting the door.
Out of ten, rate how well you and the Universe collaborated?
In terms of the reality matching my manifestation, I would say 9 out of 10. (And the missing point is down to me – not the Universe!)
Are there any lessons to learn for next time?
I totally understand the story about Nancy from Ohio now. The devil really is in is the clarity of detail. I think the Universe thought I was fixated on the idea of sex in the bathroom which I really wasn’t. I’ll be more careful about that sort of thingfrom now on. Also, because I’ve spent so much time thinking about the sex, that’s what I got, and I should probably have focused a bit more on the fact I’d like the sex to happen again. Along with a bit more conversation. But also, I trust in the Universe. (And that the sex was good enough that he’s likely to want more.)
Take a moment to appreciate the journey you are on and to feel gratitude in your heart for all that has been gifted to you already.
Date: Sunday 29 JanuaryTime: 5.45pm
My thoughts and reflections:
I am so annoyed with Astrid. Yesterday, she made me come back early from drinks with my old Bloomsbury colleagues by sending pathetic needy text messages (so not Astrid’s usual style) saying she was feeling a bit lonely and could I join her for supper and spend some sister time with her because she didn’t want to be on her own?Please, please?I was meant to be out all night with Gabriella and Suzanne, but this neediness from Astrid was so out of character that I felt a rush of protective concern and left early. I did feel bad about bailing, but not that guilty, because Gabriella and Suzanna were wittering on about their honeymoon at length, and if I’d stayed they would probably have made me sit and look at photos. Besides, they understood that I owed Astrid big time for allowing me to stay at hers, and let me off the hook. In fact, Gabriella even said I was ‘such a good sister’ which made me walk a little taller. No one has ever called me a good sister before. So I put myself out for Astrid because I am a ‘good sister’, and bought a bottle of Lambrini on the way home and a bag of Haribo (a lot of which I ate on the tube, but it was nervous eating because I was worried about Astrid), and came into the kitchen singing to cheer her up, and was she on her own? No she bloody wasn’t.Aziz had obviously gone to a huge effort to make a lovely meal and the table was set for two, and there was soft lighting and romantic music, and Aziz looked at me in what can only be described as dismay, and said, ‘Alice… I thought you were out for the night?’
‘I was,’ I said, giving Astrid a pointed look.
She completely ignored my look. ‘Well, the important thing is you’re here now and you look starving. Join us.’
‘No, you’re clearly having a meal for two.’
‘No, we’re not.’ Astrid grabbed my arm and forced me to sit down.
‘Yes, you are. I’m going to leave you two to it.’
