Page 70 of The Notecard
I can’t help but laugh. Nick eventually sits on the bed so he can pull them off. He takes his polo shirt off, and we’re back on the bed again. Just me and Nick. Both in just our underwear. I was right. He’s basically hairless. Slim. We’re about to kiss again when Nick says unexpectedly.
‘What do you like?’
‘Sorry?’ I say.
‘You know, sex wise?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before. Is there a menu?’
I attempt humour, but it falls flat.
‘Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, sorry... sorry.’
‘No, no, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.’
‘Because it’s weird and no-one ever asks, what do you like? Sorry, I’m just nervous,’ says Nick. ‘I want it to be really good, and now I’m talking about it and it’s weird that I’m talking about it. I can hear myself saying it, and it’s strange, and I’m still talking…’
‘It’s not weird, Nick, it’s fine. It’s nice that you asked, although what would you have done if I said I liked to be tickled, while being called a naughty girl in a Russian accent?’
‘If that’s what gets you off,’ says Nick and we both laugh.
We’re on Nick’s bed in our underwear, and the passion, the flaming, passionate, must have you now sex feeling is slowly dwindling. The first time with James was all passion. It was a hunger. An animal instinct took us over and we just had to fuck each other, and we did, and it was, as I said, spectacular. With Nick, it isn’t like that. We’re still making each other laugh. We’re talking about it, and it’s nice, and that word, comfortable. But the raw passion just isn’t there. I’m worried that perhaps Nick and I just don’t have that. In my mind we’re having raw, animal, Must-Have-You-Now sex, and then we’ll lie in bed talking, maybe we’ll have sex again before we’ll finally fall asleep together, our bodies tangled together as one. In the morning, I’ll wake up to the faded scent of his aftershave, the bed sheets crumpled and tossed aside, our naked bodies still together, content, happy, and ready for breakfast and coffee, but not wanting to leave the bed where it had all finally come together - no pun intended.
‘Can we start again, but before I asked you what you like sex wise?’ says Nick. ‘Pretend I undid your bra easily, didn’t hop around the bedroom like a fucking idiot, and it’s just us on the bed in our underwear, and we’re going to have sex. Can we do that please?’
‘We can,’ I say with a smile.
I look into his eyes, at his face, and we kiss. He is an exceptional kisser. Our hands wander again. His hands are on my breasts, and it feels good. He slowly runs a finger over my nipples, and they harden quickly. The feelings are coming back. Maybe this is going to be great sex after all. Our legs are tangled together. My heart is beating faster. I moan. He slides a hand down towards my underwear. Anticipation. It’s going to happen. Then Nick’s phone rings.
‘Fuck,’ says Nick.
‘Don’t get it,’ I say breathlessly.
‘I have to answer. It’s the hospital.’
Nick gets up and retrieves his phone from the nightstand next to his bed. I have a bad feeling about this. I was just starting to feel something. I was beginning to enjoy it. One night.
Nick
Of all the worst fucking timing in the world to get a call from work. I have to answer it though. They only call when it’s important. When I literally have to go in. I’m off tonight, but that means nothing when you’re a doctor. It’s like when it’s a bank holiday or Christmas, and you say, I have plans or I’d love to spend one Christmas Day with my family. They don't care. You’re a doctor. And a junior doctor at that. If they need you, you’re coming in. In the middle of having sex with a girl you really like and on the one night when you’re finally getting it together. I have no choice. Work will always come first.
‘Hello?’ I answer.
‘Nick, it’s Grace,’ says Grace, my consultant. ‘We need you in. Sorry.’
She says sorry, but she doesn’t mean sorry. There is no apology. In this case ‘sorry’ actually means, I don’t give a shit what you’re doing, I need you here now, so drop whatever pathetic Nick crap you’re doing and get here ten minutes ago. I think for a moment. I could pretend I’m sick. That wouldn’t work. Grace would still tell me to come in. I could pretend I’m drunk, but I’m an awful liar and she wouldn’t believe me. I could just say no, I can’t, it’s impossible, I’m about to have sex with Meg. I really can’t. I can’t say that though. I’ve gone in almost every day of my training since I started. Going to the funeral of a close family member? Okay, they might give you a morning off for that. Otherwise they don’t care if you’re dying, if you’re having sex with a girl you’ve lusted after for months, you’re coming in. It matters because me going in and me not going in could mean that someone lives or someone dies. It’s that important. There are days when I wish it wasn’t. When I worked in McDonalds. When all that mattered if I took the day off is that someone else made the burgers.
‘Now? Is it urgent?’ I say hopefully, even though I already know the answer.
‘Do you think I would have called you if it wasn’t urgent? It’s urgent. Get your arse in, ASAP,’ says Grace, and then she’s gone. I have never liked Grace. Forty, single, and hard. The job is her life. She doesn’t want kids and drinks her coffee black. She’s gone and I’m left alone in my bedroom with Meg. She’s lying on my bed in her knickers. We could finish. We could have sex quickly, and then I could go in, but that doesn’t seem like it’s possible. It would be rushed, and like I said, going in thirty minutes later could mean the difference between someone living or dying. I can’t have that on my conscience. Even for sex with Meg.
I look at Meg. I can’t believe I have to say this.
‘You have to go, don’t you?’ says Meg before I can say anything.
‘I’m sorry. The life of a doctor. We’re always on call. I’m so sorry.’
I lie down next to her for a moment. It’s painful. We’re inches from each other. One night. This is it. Our one night. And it’s finishing early. I run a hand over her shoulder and then down her arm. I love the feeling of her skin. I had so much more I wanted to say to her. To leave her here, just in her knickers on my bed, it’s awful. But I don’t have a choice. I lean in and give her one last kiss. It’s wonderful, but tinged with sadness. Unfulfilled desire. Unresolved feelings. Things left unsaid.
