Written in longhand at café Bluu on Hoxton Square, over two Diet Cokes. Edited accordingly.
Warning, long post is long.
As KD reads an excerpt from her new novel, I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I am turned on beyond belief and judging from the bulge in his trousers, Himself is getting there as well. He takes my hand and briefly brushes it over his crotch.
We’re outside of the shop, waiting for our group so we can go for dinner. He kisses me. Kisses me again. Our mouths crash hungrily and I have no doubt that the sex bruise on my chin will be getting some company quite soon.
His beard tickles.
Byron. 9.30. I can’t take it anymore. I want to drag him into an alleyway and boink his brains out. Or at the very least make him forget a novel. “Can’t you go somewhere and take care of yourself?” he jokes. I see his point, obviously. But something snaps.
I run outside to get air.
Eventually I decide that I would rather jam a pen into my eye than go home. I feel overwhelmed by emotions and I don’t want to leave him. He understands. Of course he does.
He takes me to his house.
We don’t have sex. But we talk and natter and end up naked under the covers, holding each other.
And it feels like coming home.
We walk. We walk, we talk.
Frozen like a twin icicle, we arrive at the cinema. Two tickets to Skyfall please. (authors note : said tickets ended up at a total of 18 quid for the pair of us. Fuck you very much, Cineworld.)
The station. I shake, heavy with emotions. I know this isn’t right and I know perfectly well that I’m a grown woman. But I can’t. I can not get on the train. He understands. Of course he understands.
He takes my hand and leads me to his house.
His mum makes me coffee. He, meanwhile, cooks us dinner. I like his mum.
In small doses.
We talk about stuff. It feels so natural that I almost cry again.
I feel loved.
In his room. I check emails. Shit happens. Mum calls. Angers me and saddens me. He holds me. Comes up with a plan of action. I email important shit to important people.
He’s a bloody genius.
I read Bad Science by Ben Goldacre on his bed. He fiddles on his netbook. I read him choice quotes from the book and we both laugh our asses off.
“Would you like a licking?”
His polite tone makes me warm with glee and desire. And I decide that, yes, I would quite like a licking.
Bonus Easter Egg .
Loud Jilly is loud.
His tongue works wonders. And for the first time, I don’t push him away. I’m rolling in the motion of the oral sex ocean.
And it feels quite excellent.
He tastes like… I can’t describe it. Life. Warmth. Musk and hard flesh.
He’s on top of me. I jokingly chastise him for spoiling my oral fun, because I could have gone on for ages…
Our hips rock together. I feel heat wash over me and it makes me relax for the first time in a long time.
“I love you.” he whispers.
I want more. His hand slides between my legs and my brain suddenly sparks an idea. I guide him. He works my clit and my G-spot at the same time.
And then it happens. It’s a complete surprise and I let it wash over me in one long, explosive gasp.
“I know! It’s all over my hand!”
“Oh my God!”
“I made you come! And I want to do it all over again!”
The world is quiet. All there is is his breath and the faint sounds of music in my ears. He makes me wanna oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Oh!
We fall asleep. The next day, I am the best me I can be.
“Will you come for me?”
I watch his face contort as his hand strokes his erection.
I’m clad in his bathrobe.
“I feel loved.”
I gasp as he comes all over his chest. It’s the most beautiful thing.
We get dressed and head for lunch. Over baguettes, we discuss plans, ideas and our mutual desire to perform our material.
Mum calls again. I tell her I’m going to a lecture (I’m actually on my way to Hoxton for Fannying Around at Sh!, but I see no need in divulging this). She makes me promise to get home before dark. (I assume she didn’t mean midnight, when I actually got home.)
We kiss one more time. We profess our love, but not for the last time.
I jump on the train and wave.
Bonus scene : I sit at a table in Bluu on Hoxton Square. I write this very post in longhand, contemplating this weekend’s events. I have no idea that I’m about to completely break down. Luckily, Sarah Berry and her friend take me under their wings and promise to support me. Sarah makes me promise that I look out for a GP.
This is not the closer I scribbled down for this post, by the way. My original parting words were of a far more optimistic nature. But I guess you can call this realism. There are things right in my life and things that need fixing. For the sake of my new relationship, and for the sake of my own sanity, I need to take care of myself. And thanks to Himself and Sarah and her friend, I now see that.
So here’s to a saner future for your favourite Barenaked Lady.