Friday night
So why am I in on a Friday night, typing away at my computer whilst every other girl my age is out celebrating the start of her weekend with her friends?
Because my boyfriend has cut our evening short to go home to his wife. That’s why.
Our date started like every other date we have had before it; we meet at his office around one pm where I am shown in by his PA and wait on the rather comfortable black leather sofas for him to finish up his calls for the day.
We then head for one of the many discreet yet rather nice restaurants around the area, today we chose a little Italian place that we had been to several times before ( I ordered the Tricolore Salad, he the Carbonara which he just pushed distractedly around his plate for an hour) where they know us and give us a fantastic table where we can view the side streets yet can’t be seen by passers by.
We then head to a bar where we drink a few glasses of good white wine and where we both start to relax a little more. The chances of us being seen here are remote and if we are, it is far from unusual for him to take a client or a work colleague out for a drink so we are still safe.
When we are both starting to feel a little tipsy, one or both of us suggests moving the date on a little, so we either hail a cab to the hotel that he normally books for clients (that way any carelessly misplaced receipts or credit card statements can be easily explained) or if it is after hours return to his office (his option of choice, I guess because it saves him the £150+ hotel bill).
Tonight we went to his office.
Like a scene in a bad porn film, he swept the papers off his desk and hitched up my skirt. (I now know better than to wear anything fiddly or time consuming like jeans. Besides, the denim leaves nasty red imprints all over you stomach and arse. Hardly sexy. Plus anything that involves pulling or tugging to get off – no pun intended, just spoils the fantasy.)
I’ll spare you the details.. but pretty soon we were interrupted by the shrill of his mobile phone ringing.
Me: “Just ignore it”
Him: “I was intending too, you didn’t need to say that”
Then his work phone began to ring. A look of panicked swept across his face as he stopped, lent across me and answered his phone.
Pulling my clothes back on in a rather inelegant fashion, I was able to make out the words “So that’s what you do at your office then” being screamed down the phone by a rather angry sounding woman.
Somehow, Jayce had managed to lean on his phone at an intimate moment and had left his wife a voicemail.
Ashen faced, he hung up the phone.
“I guess you know who that was.” He said. “I have to go home now to prove that I am not having sex at my office”.
We walked to the door in silence. He kissed me on the cheek and hailed a cab whilst I walked to the station, my underwear still bunched up around my arse.
Because my boyfriend has cut our evening short to go home to his wife. That’s why.
Our date started like every other date we have had before it; we meet at his office around one pm where I am shown in by his PA and wait on the rather comfortable black leather sofas for him to finish up his calls for the day.
We then head for one of the many discreet yet rather nice restaurants around the area, today we chose a little Italian place that we had been to several times before ( I ordered the Tricolore Salad, he the Carbonara which he just pushed distractedly around his plate for an hour) where they know us and give us a fantastic table where we can view the side streets yet can’t be seen by passers by.
We then head to a bar where we drink a few glasses of good white wine and where we both start to relax a little more. The chances of us being seen here are remote and if we are, it is far from unusual for him to take a client or a work colleague out for a drink so we are still safe.
When we are both starting to feel a little tipsy, one or both of us suggests moving the date on a little, so we either hail a cab to the hotel that he normally books for clients (that way any carelessly misplaced receipts or credit card statements can be easily explained) or if it is after hours return to his office (his option of choice, I guess because it saves him the £150+ hotel bill).
Tonight we went to his office.
Like a scene in a bad porn film, he swept the papers off his desk and hitched up my skirt. (I now know better than to wear anything fiddly or time consuming like jeans. Besides, the denim leaves nasty red imprints all over you stomach and arse. Hardly sexy. Plus anything that involves pulling or tugging to get off – no pun intended, just spoils the fantasy.)
I’ll spare you the details.. but pretty soon we were interrupted by the shrill of his mobile phone ringing.
Me: “Just ignore it”
Him: “I was intending too, you didn’t need to say that”
Then his work phone began to ring. A look of panicked swept across his face as he stopped, lent across me and answered his phone.
Pulling my clothes back on in a rather inelegant fashion, I was able to make out the words “So that’s what you do at your office then” being screamed down the phone by a rather angry sounding woman.
Somehow, Jayce had managed to lean on his phone at an intimate moment and had left his wife a voicemail.
Ashen faced, he hung up the phone.
“I guess you know who that was.” He said. “I have to go home now to prove that I am not having sex at my office”.
We walked to the door in silence. He kissed me on the cheek and hailed a cab whilst I walked to the station, my underwear still bunched up around my arse.
posted by Jezabel at 8:27 pm
2 Comments:
Well, Jez'
Quite a start to your blog. Now we all wait to find out:
Is this the final curtain?
Was he able to convince his wife that what she heard was really the copy machine jamming and two disgruntled employees trying to fix it
Will Jayce be appearing in chapter two?
I don't know whether you have every considered writing, but this would make an amusing short play - a bit of embellishment, a bit of poetic license, a bit of fantasy - who knows what might transpire. Especially since you are in on a Friday night.
Have a nice weekend, Bob
I was looking for a different book of a similar title (on a topic so different, that he couldn't be more different even if it tried), but this was the first Google result for my search so I ended up here. I'm guessing by the style of writing you are hoping that someone picks this up and turns it into a miniseries or movie, or that you get publicity and a book. Good luck with that.
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