Page 22 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘I am fine.’ I go to the sink, brush my teeth and wipe some of the collected gunk and make-up from under my eyes. She’s in there somewhere, that girl Danny Morton lifted off the floor in a radiant delirium. She’s not going out without a fight. I put my knickers back on. They’re some of my sexier ones given the lace to cotton ratio. I catch myself in the mirror, a tattoo on my lower back (a mistake from my twenties), a C-section scar from when Eve was born breech. My bra leaves interesting dents in my flesh from where the wire sat. It’ll have to do. I hear a key in the door and slowly tiptoe to my bedroom.
How do I do this? Shall I just strip and get under the covers? Maybe I can adopt a sexy pose on the bed? On all fours? Like a cat? Or on my knees, holding something? Where’d that dildo go? I can hear Danny milling about downstairs with the others. I lie on the bed, opting for my side and my head supported by my arm, the other on my hip. Shall I bend my leg or is that too obvious? I look down. Jesus, where are my boobs and stomach going? It’s like they’re trying to flee from me in different directions – gravity is not my friend. I look down. Crap, I put my knickers on inside out. I lie on my back and lift my legs in the air to rearrange them. The bedroom door opens.
‘Now that’s a sight…’
I rearrange my undergarments and watch as he comes in and starts de-robing: watch, shirt, belt. I lie on my front and prop myself up with my hands, pouting.
‘What doing tipsy-tits?’
‘Nuffink. Just watching.’
He sits next to me on the edge of the bed to take his shoes and socks off and pats me on the head. I kneel up and drape myself over him. I may lick his ear. He flinches. I’ll make him remember how good I could be in bed. He won’t even think about his other bird once I’m done with him. She’ll become but a ghost. I burp quietly under my breath.
‘Tickles.’
I then kiss the side of his neck and work my hands over the top of his chest.
‘Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.’
He turns to kiss me on the lips. I try to engage the kiss further and swivel my body around to straddle him. It’s slightly ungainly but he’s responsive and kisses me back. This is what’s been missing. We hardly kiss anymore. I put my tongue in his mouth and go for the full-on teenage pash. He laughs and grabs on to my buttocks.
‘Should take you to Francesco’s more often…’
But I don’t want him to laugh. I want him to remember who I am, why we’re here and that most importantly, he is mine. I look him deeply in the eye, still slightly inebriated so lacking in focus and whisper into his ear.
‘Fuck me.’
He looks back, slightly confused. ‘Twice in one day? Not sure I’ve got the juice?’
‘Now.’
‘You’re really shitfaced.’
I grab him by the cheeks. ‘Now. Hard, any way you want.’
He’s looking less confused, more surprised. I stand up at the edge of the bed and pull down my knickers.
‘What in the hula has happened to your fanny?’ I look down. I’m not exactly sure but there’s not much left there except a line of pubic hair the breadth of a small hamster’s tail that I obviously missed. I move his eyes to my face and place his hands on my boobs.
‘What’s got into you?’
‘You, hopefully, in the next thirty seconds.’
He laughs.
‘This isn’t funny.’
‘Well, give me a moment. That lasagne’s landed in my gut like a brick. Let me get my undercrackers off.’
I stand there whilst he takes off his vest and rolls down his trousers in the slowest, least impassioned way ever. He sits there in his underpants where I can obviously see that me standing here naked and talking as sexually as I can has had absolutely no effect on his genitalia. I take one of his hands and lead it to my vagina. His fingers stroke me gently and he stands up, pressing his body into mine. I roll his pants down to his ankles.
‘Do me against the wall. Like we used to.’
‘Back when we were twenty-eight…’
‘Like you did in the kitchen that time.’
He stops for a moment and smiles. We were newly married and it was a warm summer’s day where we’d spent the whole day at the pub drinking and came home, not able to even make it upstairs. All I remember is wearing a short summer dress, Danny rolling my knickers down and pinning me to the wall next to the fridge. My legs wrapped around his body, one hand grabbed both my wrists above my head.
