London, August 2010
What a strange feeling after making love. I don't know him. I do not know where I am. I'm not drunk anymore. He is not that exciting. Actually, the sex was not really good. My face must be full of make-up smudged in the middle of our frolics. There are stains from my eyeliner on his moist chest. He turns on the TV. I look at him in awe. I'm really not used to living with a guy anymore. I turn my back to him. I can hear him say in a nervous manner:
"Yeah, David?"
"No, that's not my name..." I turn around.
"I know I am waking you up, but did you see the news? This is major!"
He is on the phone, watching Bloomberg, something seems to fall down rapidly. I'm going to take a shower.
As I come back, he is still on the phone, pacing the floor in his silk dressing gown. I interrupt him:
"Sorry, can I borrow some clothes? I don't feel like strolling down the street in my latex tigh high boots at this time of night."
He looked at me and motioned towards his walk-in wardrobe. The flat is really not bad. His wardrobe is bigger than my kitchen. I grab a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of slip ons. An Armani Jeans total look. He actually has a lot of the same outfits including some blue suits from Savile Row. I put my corset, my boots and my wig into a Dolce&Gabbana shopping bag. I walk past him, he stops me and hands me his business card.
"Richard Derwent, finance consulting"
He puts his microphone on mute.
"You can send me my things to my office, tomorrow before noon."
"Yep."
He returns back to his call. I leave his place. I manage to get a cab straight away. As I'm getting out of the cab downstairs from my place I almost get run over by a skater boy at three in the morning.
"Hey! You're going home now?"
I look at him, he is mighty handsome. The surfer type. Even in the darkness of the night I can see his perfectly sun kissed skin, impeccable white teeth, shiny blond hair waving around his sculptural face. He makes my knees weak straight away. Imagining his lean body against mine makes my fantasy go off. I must believe one bad sex opens up the appetite for a good one.
"Yeah, I live just up there, why?"
"I wondered if I could come up with you."
"Don't you have a home of your own?"
"I do, but it's far, and you're kinda cute."
Seriously, I never got hit on by someone this straight forward. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes are sparkling with naughtiness. He's holding his skate under one arm and uses the other hand to stroke my door. Seeing his long fingers and his meaty palms gives me shivers all over my body.
"Alright then, but you sleep on the couch, I'm working in five hours. I need to get some sleep."
His mouth opened into a wide startling smile, his eyes squint a little with joy, he scratches the back of his neck, like a bad boy satisfied with his foolishness. He follows me into the building. Walks up with me up to the last floor. Waits till I open the door.
I prepare the couch for him. I wish him a good night. He rolls under the covers. I fall into my own bed. I can't be bothered to take Richard's clothes off. I can hear him move about the room. I feel his weight on my mattress. His hands are looking for my body. All he is wearing by now is his boxers. He slowly takes my T-shirt off while kissing every inch of my naked skin. My excitation kicks in quickly. He takes it in his hands. He's proudly smiling again. He pushes his hot hard body against mine. He kisses me. His mouth is warm and wet. Soft but steady. His tongue finds his way through my lips to mine. They tangle, frolic and discover each other. He moves his head back. I squeeze his butt. I indicate my night table with my gaze. He takes out the condoms and the lube. He takes me. He enters slowly, little by little, until he fills me up entirely. He makes love to me with passion, almost violently. I dive in this pleasure on the edge of pain.
Before he comes I take over the situation. I take him. I observe all the reactions from his muscles to each reaction to my movements. A part of me is in him. I am burned by the heat of his insides. Inspired by his desire of completion. He sighs. He covers his face with a pillow to scream. I bite the other side of the pillow to scream with him. I embrace his body. I take away the pillow and moan into his mouth while we kiss. I make him come. He rebounces his hips a few more times and brings me to the joy. Our bodies release the tension of expectation to leave place to a sweet satisfaction. He puts his head on my chest and I give him a quick kiss. We fall asleep in the complete exhaustion of having shared our bodies together and with others.
By the time I woke up, he was in my kitchen, having his breakfast. I let him go without talking.
I woke up surrounded by the perfume of sex. This familiar reassuring smell of an emotion shared with complicity.
I have to get ready for a week of work. I prepare the bag for Richard. My flat looks like a rathole compared to his. I dive into the tube full of self-conscious people, each carrying his own fragment of truth. I replay the night in my head. Two men so different. Two spirits so distinctively other. It makes me feel tired. I barely slept.
On my way out of the tube I light a cigarette for my walk to the boutique. I open the store. Six days later. I close the store on Saturday at seven thirty. My colleagues are already gone. I leave the cash in my bosse's office. We exchange basic formalities before he leaves for a Fashion Happy few diner in Mayfair.
I get home after eight. I throw myself on the couch. The door rings. No need to stand up. My best friend opens the door with his own set of keys. Rolland comes in all chitty chatty carrying a bottle of Pink Martini. He describes his funny week at the Royal Court of Justice and his matinée at the sauna. I tell him how fed up I am with my senior sales associate and how much I would prefer the part-time student to replace him.
The beauty of these conversations is that they can take an eternity and only have the single significance of the interest and support we have for each other in our friendship.
By midnight we are quite tipsy and all pampered. We are getting ready to take over London's night life. We get a cab to Soho. Everybody is there. Familiar faces you don't really know, because you never really talked to each other. We are by the bar, carrying on our conversation and checking out the people in the club. I'm quite weary of the pretentiously humble gazes of young boys looking for tenderness. I am actually annoyed by the more mature that look provocatively or straightforward with an open wallet and a shiny facetted smile. Rolland plays the game. Gazes. Exposes his best profile. He bites his lip as soon as a guy he fancies smiles at him.
Suddenly, the most unexpected couple of guys comes in. My friend spots them straight away and pulls my sleeve to point them out.
"I cannot believe this! That's David Langley, the son of some super rich high schmock from House of Common and his City-boy business partner Richard Derwent."
"I do not believe this!"
"What do you mean?"
"It can't be, they cannot be together."
"Honey, everybody knows they are together. What does that do to you? It's just tabloid coverage."
"It's not that. I know them. Intimately. Separately. Although, I ignored the former ones name."
"Excuse me? Where do you live? You don't know how David Langley looks like? Have you been walking around with your eyes closed? He's everywhere! Wait. What do you mean, you know them intimately but separately?"
"You remember last Sunday?"
"Dry city boy and surfer boy? I still admire you for that!"
"Well, Richard is the City boy and The guy you call David is my surfer boy wearing a suit!"
I cannot manage to believe this. The David that Richard was calling while I was still in his bed was the skater boy that ended up in my bed few minutes later...And moreover, Skaterboy is actually a rich brat. I feel so ashamed. I'm worried. What is going to happen? They are walking towards us. Richard to Rolland:
"Hello darling, I'd love to present you David! David meet Rolland!"
"Well, we actually all know each other. Of course, you don't know his name. He is John. But you met before as well!" said Rolland having the time of his life, while I was dying of embarrassment.
We all shakedd each others hands and exchaned extremely awkward silent smiles. I turned to Skaterboy:
"If I knew, I would have let you take Richard's clothes back to him. It would have saved me some money. "
All reaction was misunderstood looks between the two and the most amused freckled smile on Rolland's face. The boys moved along. And I went ballistic on Rolland.
"What do you mean, we all know each other?"
"You know I fancied this finance guy, and we did sleep together but I couldn't tell you cause he has a boyfriend and everybody is famous and shit?"
"Yes!"
"Richard is his name!"
"No way!"
"Way."
"And?"
"I slept with David this morning in a Sauna."
"You realize, this means we practically had a foursome. I slept with my best friend without knowing it!"
"You slept with a spoiled rich brat and he ate your humble breakfast! That's worse!"
