Friday, 28 August 2015


Isn't it odd that you can live in the same city with people for a whole year and never even know they're there, then suddenly you meet them twice in a couple of weeks?

It was pissing down with rain this last week and I didn't have an umbrella. I made a mad dash from the tube station exit to a shop awning, hoping desperately to avoid getting my newly blow-dried hair wet. I turn to check my reflection in the shop window and who is standing right beside me?
She smiled as if I were her long lost friend and greeted me with "So Sébastien tells me the two of you used to date."
I'm often told that I'm direct but I think she really wins that award. Damn, but I rather like the woman.
"Yes." I answered. (We did a lot more than date, but I'm direct, not stupid, so I didn't elaborate.)
Then she invited me to join her for a drink before we parted ways.
I was headed to meet The Banker but figured 'what the hell?'. We headed to the wine bar across the street where we spent a pleasant hour getting to know one another.
Did I mention that she's a really lovely person? We could be great friends if it weren't for the fact that we've both slept with the same man.
Or does that even matter?

Needless to say The Banker wasn't in the happiest mood when I arrived over an hour late for our date. (But he forgave me, of course.)

Aurélie seems quite lonely here in London. Between the baby and the demands of her job, she doesn't get out much and hasn't made many friends outside of work. So she suggested we get together some time.

What do you think: good idea to make friends with the wife of someone you're still a little in love with - or not?

Sunday, 16 August 2015

Mile High Part 9

If you haven't already read the ongoing story of Poppy's Carribean Adventure, click here, start at the bottom of the page, and work your way up.

The story continues:

In the car, as they jolted over the rutted road towards their resort, Poppy pulled her folder of notes out of her shoulder bag and began to run through the lists of things they needed to accomplish today, before the rest of the delegates arrived and the conference began in earnest. She tried to focus on her checklists, asking Gage questions and making notes as she moved down the list, but her throbbing awareness of him made her clumsy and less attentive.

His thigh lay barely inches from her own. Here in the back seat of the hotel’s luxury sedan, they were even closer than they’d been on the plane. His hand spread out on his knee, the same long, strong tapered fingers that had stroked her and been inside her last night. She squirmed and pressed her legs together, but it didn’t help. God, but she wanted those fingers back inside her. Better yet, she wanted his cock inside her.

Then she looked up and caught Gage’s gaze on her. She could read nothing from his expression. The breeze from the open window beside him ruffled his dark hair. He arched an eyebrow and she realised with a start she’d asked him the same question twice already - and still couldn’t remember his answer.

She gave up any attempt at work and turned to look out her window instead. Giant-leafed banana trees flew past the car, and between them she glimpsed white beach sand and azure water rising up to meet an equally blue sky. Would she manage a free moment during this trip to take a stroll on the beach?

The moment the car rolled to a stop before the grand, white-columned portico of the resort hotel, the manager already awaited them, and they hit the ground running. Site inspections, staff de-briefings, final checks of the AV equipment and the preparations for the evening cocktail party, and Poppy personally oversaw the packing of the delegates’ goodie bags. She kept so busy she barely even saw Gage let alone had a moment alone with him. For which she was profoundly grateful. Because every time she looked at him she couldn’t help but picture him naked. Her infatuation was worse than ever. In fact, it was rapidly turning into an obsession.

That's all for now folks! But check back on this blog same time and same place next weekend for the next instalment of Poppy's Caribbean Adventure.

Sunday, 2 August 2015

A man walked into a bar

"So what was the Shadow that was cast over Olivia & Stu's wedding?" you ask. I haven't told Olivia yet, but I guess if she's reading this, she'll know soon enough.

It went like this:

On the night before the wedding, we went down to the village pub. There was quite a big crowd of us, even though Stu was out having dinner with some of his work mates.

It was nearly ten, I think, when Stu and his colleagues joined us at the pub. I remember the moment with crystal clarity.

It was really hot and stuffy inside. A few people had drifted outdoors, but Amelia and I were still inside. I had a glass of red wine in my hand. The guys were all messing around, pretending to know how to throw darts, and I was laughing at something Stu's friend Simon said, when the pub door opened.
I half turned to see Stu lead in a group of about 7 or 8 people. Two women and the rest were men.

And then, for the first and only time in my life, my heart stopped. Honest to God, it skipped a beat and I couldn't breathe.

Sébastien walked in.

Yes, that Sébastien. My first love. Perhaps the only man I've ever really loved.

I tried to hang back out of sight, but it didn't work. Like a heat-seeking missile zeroing in on its target, he looked at me. His eyes widened. Then he turned away, putting his arm around the waist of the woman next to him.

If I thought I was over him, now I know better. It was as if someone reached inside my chest, yanked out my heart, tossed it on the floor, and jumped on it.

The rest of the evening, I kept as far away from Bastien as I could. But it couldn't last forever. It was late, quite a few people (including the bride and groom) had already left, and the crowd was thinning out. I sat outside on one of the tables, alone, enjoying the fresh air and more wine, and he came to sit beside me.

We didn't talk for a while, and then suddenly we couldn't stop talking. Lots of catching up, 'what are you doing now?', 'are you happy with your life?' kind of stuff. Turns out his wife works for Stu's company, in the legal department, and they're living in London now. They have a baby, just a couple of years old, and this is the first time they've left their son with her parents and been away, just the two of them. Her parents came all the way over from France to babysit. Can you believe that? I can't imagine my own parents going further than beyond their own front door to babysit Fleur.

After a while his wife came outside to look for him and found us there. When she heard we came from the same area and practically grew up together, she got so excited. We chatted for a little, but Bastien said he was tired and wanted to leave.

Olivia's wedding day was beautiful. But it was as if I carried a Shadow around with me the entire day.

I tried to keep busy, and there was so much to do, and so many people to talk to, that it really shouldn't have been hard not to see them all the time. But they seemed to be everywhere, holding hands, laughing together. And every time was like a knife in my heart. He's still the most gorgeous man I've ever known. I still remember the feel of his hands on me, the way he kissed. I can barely remember how The Banker kissed me two days ago.

Later that evening, his wife, Aurélie, finally cornered me. We had a long chat, and she's so lovely, warm and genuine, which only makes it worse. I want so much to hate her. I'd love to be able to claw her eyes out for having the one man I've always considered 'mine' but I can't.

But it's obvious she doesn't know who I am. He didn't correct her when she assumed we were nothing more than childhood neighbours. I don't know whether to feel hurt that he can brush our past aside so easily, or to be happy that the idyllic summer we spent together in Paris still belongs to no-one but us.

And so there it is. They left after the champagne breakfast on Sunday morning to drive back to London, and I finally told Sophie and Mel who he was. I even cried a little. Even though it's stupid, because that was years ago and we're different people now. I can't possibly still be in love with him.

My BFFs couldn't believe it was him. Of course, they met him at my 21st but he's changed a lot. His hair is shorter, and he looks more preppy now. But he still has the same wicked sense of humour, the same dark eyes that hint at mischief. The same crooked smile.

Oh God, I am still completely in love with him, aren't I?