Page 23 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
It’s enough for Danny to push me into the space between the door and the dresser. I flinch as my back hits the cold wall but I immediately feel the intensity in his kiss, the urgency in his touch. I part my legs and lift one on to the dresser, one of my hands reaching down to grab at his cock and guide it towards me. He enters me and we both sigh. I try to lever myself upwards so my other leg wraps around him.
‘Woah there…’
Danny may have had a point. Back then, he was stronger and I was lighter. He grunts slightly to have to support my weight and I don’t know whether to be offended or ashamed that I’ve lost all my sexual athleticism.
‘Just keep going… I want you so much…’
He keeps going. It’s sex on a mission. It’s always pleasurable enough with Danny but I want him to come hard and quickly so he can remember that time I was my sexual self and not just the mother of his children, the maker of tea, the washer of clothes. I was also the lover. ‘You feel so amazing… do it. C’mon…’
I need to make him remember. I move my hips up and down in a more laboured way than I’d care to mention. I headbutt him in all the movement.
‘Ouch. Don’t do that…’
‘Yes.’
‘No…’
I bounce harder. A vein on his forehead looks like it’s going to pop.
‘Yes, Danny…’ I moan, pleasured but in feigned ecstasy. He puts a hand over my mouth. Why are my tits wet? Is that sweat?
A light comes on in the landing and Danny panics. ‘I can’t… Fuuuuck…’
And no, that’s not him coming. That’s him realising he’s not twenty-eight, collapsing to the floor and dropping his wife. His wife who has her leg propped against a dresser. I’m not sure what happens next but my body contorts as he vacates me and my leg kicks the dresser out of the way so a drawer comes flying out. I hear my ankle click and lie there spread-eagled on the cold wooden floor. The bedroom door flies open and Stu stands there, seeing me naked. Not for the first time, but covered in shards of wood – and what appears to be quite a lot of my own blood.
Five
‘It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m really quite fine. Seriously, I am fine.’
Despite the fact that my husband couldn’t pin me against a wall and give me the seeing to that I thought might repair our marriage, I am shocked that he and his brother now possess the superhuman strength to carry me over the threshold of the A&E department at Westmorland General Hospital. I have enough alcohol in my veins to numb a donkey so the pain I am feeling is nothing compared to the shame; the shame that my left shin is covered in blood, my ankle has ballooned to the size of a small grapefruit and I have nothing on bar a man’s dressing gown and a pair of Ugg boots. I couldn’t even get my knickers on. I have a Morton brother either side of me: my brother-in-law to my left, to my right my husband, who keeps adjusting the tartan gown to protect my modesty. I hook my arms around their necks, feeling the homemade bandage Danny made with our best bath towels unravelling as we walk. They lift me over to a row of plastic chairs where a sea of people part to make room for me.
‘Stay here with her and I’ll get us checked in. When’s your birthday again? Fifteenth June, right?’
I am not too drunk to have a go. ‘Bloody hell, Danny. July… July!’
A lady next to me, who appears to just have a heavy cold, widens her eyes wondering if this is the reason we’re in A&E. I can’t focus. My leg pulses to its own disco beat. I hate hospitals. I hate all the arrows and sliding doors and nurses who always look prim, proper but slightly judgemental that you haven’t looked after yourself better. Danny hovers at a desk and I see him trying to book me in. He has his hoodie pulled up over his head and looks bewildered that less than an hour ago, we were having slightly energetic sex that has led us here. He keeps looking over at me but I refuse to look him in the eye. You dropped me, you tool. Do you drop your other bird when you’re shagging her? Poor Stu tries to sit me upright.
‘Careful there, Meggers. Don’t need the whole world seeing your growler…’
I laugh hysterically at the mention of the word and do a lion impression. Stu giggles. The lady with the bad cold watches us curiously, trying to fathom our relationship. Maybe we were having a threesome and something went horribly awry. Maybe we’re a family circus act and we landed on a tent peg. Another man who looks like he’s just tripped over and knocked a finger out of joint doesn’t look too impressed. Maybe he’s had a look at my half-shaven growler. I laugh and purr to myself again.
‘Judith on 111 just said to put a compress on it and elevate it.’
I kick my leg up. That man opposite definitely just saw my lady bits.
I was adamant there was very little wrong, I had a good supply of plasters in the house, but Stu and Danny thought otherwise. Google didn’t give specific instructions of what to do when you have a large split in your shin after landing on a dresser drawer after failed sex so the assistance of 111 it was. Judith had many questions and at one point, I had both Morton brothers staring at my leg trying to work out if it was going blue. It was just cold. But Judith’s evaluation was that I may have fractured something and it was important to get me into a hospital for further evaluation. So, in essence, this is all Judith’s fault.
‘I bought the bumper box of plasters, cotton wool, bit of Savlon. I would have been fine.’
‘Stop kicking your leg up, you’re scaring people.’
Danny comes back to us with a wheelchair.
‘Stu’s right. Come shift over to this so we don’t have to lug you around anymore.’
The brothers support me over, Danny nestling his face in my forehead to give me a kiss. I’m in the sort of mood where I want to headbutt him in return. He can sense I’m less than amused. The three of us sit there in silence.
‘Stu… lad, you got any shrapnel? Could you get us some chocolate for peg leg here?’
