Pulling Power #10

Hold on tight...

It's those Sex Machines!

Get up, get on up!!

Jade's Jazz Lounge - Second Life

Sorry for the late posting, but tonight we're meeting in Jade's Jazz Lounge (co-ordinates 231, 135, 25)

We gravitated toward there last week and it's a really chilled venue with loads of music and dancing.

Come along - it's weird - but it's fun too!!!!!

Don't have Second Life - download it! It's FREE at www.secondlife.com

Chapter Twenty Nine - Men Are Like Buses....

“I’ve kind of made things complicated, haven’t I, Tam? By not defining what staying single actually means?”

“Hmmm.”

“I have! Because now it’s like open bloody season! And I don’t know where I stand anymore. With anybody! I know it sounds awful, but I’m getting flowers from people I don’t even know and the Paul Ashkuri incident still makes me cringe. What do you think, Tam? Do you think he really liked me for me or was I small cog in his huge wheel of male ego?”

The silence is deafening and for a split second I think she’s gone.

“Tam? You there?”

“Yeah,” and she sniffs, which turns into a sob and suddenly Tamsin is crying.

“Tam? What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you, Soph. You’ll go bananas.”

“You can tell me anything. What is it?”

She wails and blurts, “It’sPeteHe’sMarriedAndILoveHimAndHisWifeIsPregnant!”

Great – all the time I’ve been banging the drum about the foibles of married men; my best friend is hooked up with one!

“I’ll be over straight after work!”

*

I hate this. I am so tired and confused! AJ is being strangely nice – which in itself is bizarre, and I have looked at my web page to see hundreds of messages – either from women championing my decision to stay single, or from men convinced that they can change my mind. This is ludicrous and I’m tired of the game-playing. On checking my work email I have a message from Geezer magazine and a message from Adrian Ford’s personal email account - talk about spoiled for choice. Trevor from Geezer was charming and called me cute but Ade is sexy and good-looking, kind and funny – I feel really comfortable with him. Let me see what they say:

RE: Interview and Guest Column with GEEZER magazine

Malone, Trevor <TMalone@geezermag.com>

To: Sophie Regan

Morning sexy – Hope you’re liking the flowers – nothing but the best for a cute chick like you. Loving your column and I’d like to invite you to write a guest column for Geezer next week. I’d appreciate an interview too – perhaps to run concurrently with your guest column – but have to insist that you let me take you to the most sexy Italian restaurant for dinner afterwards. Go on – you know you want to. Promise you’ll love it…

I’ve taken the liberty of booking the best table for the Saturday night – so how about we meet at around 5pm and then we can go on for dinner afterwards.

Can’t wait to see you.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

Trevor..xx

___________

Trevor Malone

Features

GEEZER mag

I have to give it to him – he’s cute and charming. The other email is from Adrian. I feel my stomach flip and a pulse in my neck as I open his mail:

RE: Dinner? Please?? Need to see you!

Adrian Ford

To: Sophie Regan

Sophie. Sorry to do this by email, but I have to see you. There are things I need to say to you and they can’t wait. I know that you’re busy – Paul Ashkuri eh? Wow – bet he’s mad about you already – although I bet you weren’t too impressed with the photographs in the national papers. You don’t deserve all this aggro. But I need to talk to you! Please will you meet me for dinner? How are you fixed for Saturday night? There’s a gig on in Lambeth – new band called Ben’s Brother – really good. Fancy coming? We could grab some pasta or tapas first maybe? Please let me know – would love to have some fun with you!

Anyway – waiting to hear your reply.

Adrian x

Wow – so now what! Looks like I have some decisions to make for Saturday night…

*

After work I head straight for Tamsin’s. As I approach her front door I take a last bite from my apple and chuck the core into a wheelie bin. I’m trying to decide what to say to her. She knows my lowly opinions of married guys who cheat and it’s going to be difficult to be compassionate and sympathetic to her. I truly believe that anybody who goes with a married person is equally as bad as the married one! But it’s Tamsin and she’s devastated, so I’m going to have to be nice about this.

I knock on her door, picking a small shard of apple from between my front teeth and jump when Rob opens the door.

“Oh, you’re here.”

“Yeah,” his face looks pained and as I step in over the doorstep I can already hear Tamsin wailing.

“Not good…” he whispers to me.

“Oh dear. What we gonna do?”

He shrugs and puts his hand on my shoulders, directing me toward Tam’s bedroom, stopping me before we get there.

“We’re gonna have to help pull her out of this, Sophie.”
“Of course we are!”

“No,” he whispers, “she’s really broken. We need to be here to support her. What you doing Saturday night? Thought maybe we could get out some funny DVDs and spend the evening here with her.”

3 dates for Saturday night.

And how do I choose?

The suave charmer who sends me flowers and calls me cute – the best table in the poshest restaurant?

The guy who I really fancy who wants to grab some tapas and see Ben’s Brother gig – (that’s the one I really really want to do)

Or rush to the aid of my best friend and her trusty brother in her time of need.

Decisions, decisions.

Shit!

There really is no choice. One look at Tam’s huge swollen eyes and red face tells me that she really needs me right now….

Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Thirty

Pulling Power #9

OK - Here's some of the worst ones.....




keep your lines coming to pulling power at singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk

Chapter Twenty Eight - Toblerones & Carousels

Relationship Rehab – week 5

This week has been a crash course on the male ego – with the emphasis on the word ‘crash’! It’s an unpleasant experience, publicising the car crash of your life, but it’s considerably worse when men add to your dilemma! It’s all been a little like the carousel at the fair, the colours blur into primary stripes as it spins, but change to faded, tarnished, tired paint jobs as it grinds to a halt. In terms of my relationship rehab, I’m now only marginally more disillusioned than I was six weeks ago. It sounds like a girls dream to receive flowers from secret admirers on a daily basis and to have to struggle over the dilemma of whether one date constitutes a break in my promise to remain single. But that was the week that was. As I’m sure anybody who reads one of the red-tops knows – I went on a date with the gorgeous Paul Ashkuri, but spent the rest of the week wondering why he hasn’t contacted me again and even whether he was genuine or not. It has been a truly ‘Toblerone week’ – the highs tasting great and the lows kind of hard to out from between your teeth! I was meant to test out a singles quiz night – but just couldn’t bring myself to enter that social cess pit. But I’m recovering slowly and will be out and about next week with a new update on how promising to stay single is really enhancing my life!!!?

Oh, and I’ve been asked to do a photo shoot and interview for Geezer magazine – so keep an eye out for that too.

Sophie x

*

The weekend really was horrendous and it’s knocked my self esteem hugely. Rob had called around in the afternoon on Saturday, whilst I was still prancing about in my pyjamas, trying to decide what to wear. He said he’d called in to check that the paint job was OK, which I thought was strange, but I was grateful for somebody to help me decide what to wear. He was great – listening to me fluff about, watching me try on numerous outfits in succession and he really helped me feel better about my concerns over Paul Ashkuri. I have to admit, and I don’t mean it in a big headed way, but I had been suspicious about his intentions and Rob helped me to see that someone like Ashkuri really didn’t need to be seen with someone like me. We’d laughed that I was an intensely small ripple in a huge media pond. Rob listened as I ranted about not trusting men’s motives lately and how guys who I’d once not noticed were sending me emails and flowers! Trevor Malone from Geezer has sent me flowers four times in the last week, which is nice but now becoming tiresome, especially as I hadn't even met the guy this time last week – and as for the remarks and invitations on my website? This is all a bit full-on and we’d made loads of jokes about it. He’s such easy company, but I noticed that he changed his tone and went kind of weird when I emerged wearing my new Coast dress. He made a quick exit and disappeared, mumbling something about needing to get back to work.

A couple of hours later Paul texted to say that he was outside, and I asked him in - determined to keep him waiting for a few minutes. He came in and waited patiently on my sofa, whilst I disappeared to the bedroom and pretended to finish getting ready. In reality I was sitting on the edge of my bed nervously trying not to pick my French manicure off – but he didn’t need to know that! He was the perfect gentlemen – telling me I looked gorgeous and helping me with my coat. I felt a million dollars and my thighs are still bruised from where I’d had to continually keep pinching myself. So we left the house and walked straight into an overwhelming firework display. Camera flashes were going off all over the place and I was totally blinded. I knew that I was pulling one of those open–mouthed-gasping-for-air faces that you make after too long under water, but I was completely disorientated. I waited for Paul to clutch my arm tightly and guide me toward his waiting car, in the way that Rob had done the other week when I was afraid that the photographers were waiting. But he didn’t. Far from it. Paul Ashkuri shook my arm from his as if it were on fire and pushed me sideways away from him. I stumbled toward his car, estranged shouts of ‘Miss Regan!’ and ‘so how does this mean that you’re staying single, Sophie?’ ringing through my ears. By the time I fell into the passenger seat of his car I felt as though I’d done five rounds with Tyson.

The evening was strained after that. I found it hard to believe his flimsy claims that he was always on edge when he travelled without a bodyguard and that he’d had some serious run-ins with paparazzi before. My food was sticking in my throat as I couldn’t help but think that Rob would never have treated me like that. And also the come down that as much as I was being spoiled with male attention, someone like Paul Ashkuri seemed embarrassed to be with me – or was it that he was pretending to be embarrassed. Nothing is what it seems anymore.

*

Ade was depressed. He’d gone ahead at the weekend and had booked a limo and top table at the restaurant for next week, but still hadn’t mustered the nerve to ask Sophie to go with him. It had cost him the best part of £300 and he felt sick at the thoughts that she might say no. It wasn’t helping that Trevor Malone insisted on sending her bouquets every couple of days, and when Ade had seen the photos of Sophie and celebrity Paul Ashkuri in all of the national newspapers and magazines he realised that he wasn’t the only guy after her. He’d heard the guys down the pub making jokes about how they’d soon sort her out and make her decide not to stay single. He was already desperately regretting his bet with Trevor. He hated his Ade Gets Laid persona now and really felt it was time to grow up and meet that special lady. It tormented him, the way that he liked Sophie. He constantly tried to ignore the fact that she’d gotten under his skin, but it was difficult to. A ‘new message’ alert flashed on his computer. It was from Trevor. Ade’s stomach flipped with anger and he surprised himself at how annoyed he felt on reading how Trevor had emailed Sophie Regan, asking her to do a photo shoot and interview for Geezer magazine….

Now what?

*

Tamsin hadn’t got out of bed for 4 days. Her weekend away with Pete had gone disastrously wrong and she couldn’t pull herself together. She’d intended to put him on the spot about his marital situation but she hadn’t got the chance to. They’d had some mind-blowing sex again – she loved the way he ripped at her clothes and growled a little when he got his hands on her. It turned her on immensely and she really couldn’t get enough of him. They’d spent hours exploring and then re-exploring each others bodies until they’d both lain, wet and exhausted beside each other in the early hours. She’d been afraid to breathe for fear of breaking the stillness and the intimate moment but after a couple of minutes Pete had reached down and pulled his mobile phone from the floor. She detested that. Every time, without fail, that she made love to Peter, he had to check his phone afterwards. It was as if he was checking in – and it made her feel ill. She was beginning to feel that she only ever really had every last cell, every last fragment of Pete during their love making, as afterwards he always had to check his phone. And this time, it was worse than ever. She had lay beside him, deliberately not making eye contact, but aware that he’d jerked into a seated position whilst pressing the buttons on his mobile.

“What is it?” she’d asked, her voice light and still slightly panting,

“Nothing!”

“Oh.” Her voice hung in the warm air and she felt cold and empty as he hopped from the bed, and paced into the bathroom to make a call.

She could hear his voice, the concern and tenderness that she was so used to, and it was sickening listening to him talk to somebody else that same way too. When he emerged a few minutes later his face was white and his glorious body already seemed as if it no longer belonged to her.

“It’s my wife,” he’d said in low tones, “she’s had a fall. She’s been rushed to hospital. I have to go Tamsin. I have to get home.” And then he’d stopped, the realisation of what he was about to say suddenly hitting him. “She’s pregnant, Tam.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Seven - Six 'o' Clock Rock & Flies On The Wall

6pm on a Saturday evening is one of those in-between times. It’s no longer day and yet it’s not quite evening. It’s a kind of twilight zone between the two, and I’m utilising my time to its full potential.

I’ve exfoliated and fake tanned, I’ve varnished my nails and straightened my hair, pencilled my lips and painted my cheeks. And I’ve tried on about 50,000 different outfits and still can’t find one that’s ‘right’ for my date with Paul tonight.

And I’ve only got an hour to decide!

*

As Sophie added to the huge pile of clothes on her bed, discarding them with an irritated ‘Grrrrrr’ as she listened to her Motown collection at top volume she had no concern for what her friends and family were doing at that exact time……

Tamsin and Pete were buried beneath the duvet in a swish hotel room in Brighton, oblivious to his mobile which flashed and buzzed on ‘silent’ in his jeans pocket, which lay crumpled on the floor….

Ade was cracking open a cold can of beer, slouched on his black sofa, his laptop perched on his knees as he Google’d for something that would knock Sophie Regan off of her pretty feet…..

Rob had enjoyed a relaxing day and was standing in his kitchen, throwing together a seafood stir-fry and looking forward to a relaxing evening and a chance to catch up on the pile of DVD’s that stood like a stalagmite beside his television.

Trevor was stressed. His car had failed its MOT this afternoon and he was aggravated and flicking through the telephone book to find a decent mechanic to get his car through for a decent price…..

Jennifer was ready to go out into Dublin for the night. She was overly made-up and her clothes were far more New York than Dundalk – but that was Jen all over. Checking her watch she leaned forward to greet the fat line of white powder that she’d neatly chopped into place on her kitchen worktop. It was going to be another great night…..

None of them were aware of the small cluster of photographers that were gathering on the street outside of Sophie’s home…

Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Six - Things That Go Buzz In The Night

I can’t sleep tonight. I’m all churned up and anxious. I can’t get Paul Ashkuri out of my head and feel confused and suspicious about Trevor Malone too. He’d appeared from nowhere – both in my life and at The Dorchester and I’m puzzled at his sudden interest. Geezer magazine isn’t a great read – full of male ego and topless ‘babes’ – hardly the intelligent read of the year! My bed is warm and crumpled, uncomfortable now after being in it for the last 2 hours. I fling the covers back and stand up, grabbing the duvet and turning it – so that the hot side is now out side, and slide back between the sheets. I wish I could turn my head off. And just as I begin to relax, my phone bleeps. It’s Paul Ashkuri! Telling me how hot and horny he’s feeling!

HEY GORGEOUSSSS – IN BED AT DORCH FEELNG HOT N HORNY THINKNG OF U. XX

And how am I supposed to sleep after that! It makes me realise how I miss a man’s body in bed beside me, someone to snuggle up to, someone to touch their bare skin, their warmth and that great feminine feeling of sexual power. I lay there for a while, my eyes closed, remembering how great it had been for a while between Ben and I, and how he’d really been the one that had switched me on in bed. Before I know it I’m getting all hot and sweaty, until I can’t wait any longer before opening the drawer of my bedside cabinet and pulling out my newest buzzing buddy, thinking of how Ben used to gently pull my hair as he kissed me, soft and hard. It’s been way, way too long….

*

I must have fallen asleep mid flow! I wake up to hear a slow and intermittent buzz, convinced that a bee has flown into my bedroom and is tired and stuck somewhere. Something shakes on the top of my thigh and I leap from my bed and shriek. Then I see my Rampant Rabbit flailing, like a fish that’s been out of water too long, on my bare sheets. It’s on its last legs battery-wise and is barely limping along on last reserves. I grab it and switch it off, discarding it to the floor. It’s 4.15am and I have no chance of getting back to sleep now. Desperate to try, I get back into bed, staring at the insides of my eyelids as I worry how large the black bags will be beneath my eyes, just ready for my date with Paul Ashkuri later today! Typical! I must try and get some more sleep…

*

Thankfully I managed to get another few hours in, but one of the first things I’ve had to do this morning is talk to Tamsin. I ring her repeatedly as I curl up on my sofa, the cool leather sticking to my bare legs as I hold a cereal bowl to my face and spoon in huge mounds of Frosties and milk. Tam isn’t picking up; she’s obviously ‘busy’ with Pete. I can catch up with her later, but in the meantime I have to talk to somebody. I call Jennifer, against my better judgement.

“Hi Jen.”
“What the hell are you doing? Calling before 10 on a Saturday morning? Don’t you know I have yoga in half an hour and then I’m busy at the beauty salon all afternoon?”

“Sorry. Listen, I just need to run something by you.”

“OK, but make it quick. Or call me back on my mobile.”

“No,” I realise I’ve made a mistake even thinking that she’ll have anything positive to add to my confusion. “It’s alright, I’ll call you later.”

“Just tell me now, Sophie. What’s wrong?”

I steam in, “Well you know my deal about staying single?”

“Yes. Absolutely fucking ridiculous, but go on.”

“Well, what is single? If I go on a date have I broken my promise to stay single? Or do I only break it if I sleep with him? Or do I not even break it then? Not until I continue to see him as a ‘boyfriend’ on a regular basis?” I hear her huffing at the other end, “The bottom line is Jen, at what point in a relationship are you single and what point not!”

“This whole thing is insane. What are you trying to prove? Just go and get your brains banged out girl. Stop taking everything so seriously.”

There’s a moments pause before she adds, “Anyway – who is it?”

“Paul Ashkuri.”

“Fuck off!”

I can’t keep the smile from my voice, “Paul Ashkuri! Honest!”

“As in Paul Ashkuri and Keira Knightley?”

“Yep. Him.”

“Fuck off! You! How?”

“I interviewed him yesterday and he asked me to join him for dinner tonight.”

“Jesus, Sophie! You gotta go for that! Don’t even hesitate. Fuck the promise or whatever it is!”

“But don’t you think it’s all a bit weird? I mean, I’m not stupid Jen. I make this public ‘promise’ and all of a sudden I have the likes of movie stars asking me out! I’m not daft!”

“Who gives a shit, Soph. Go with it. Go with him. Make him fall in love with you.”

I should have realised she’d react this way. She’s so shallow – it wouldn’t matter about a guy’s personality or hygiene or integrity. As long as he was loaded – that’s all that my sister wants. To marry a bank account.

*

Rob was having a lay-in. He was sick of being up early 7 days a week, spending his life under car bonnets and oiled up to the neck. Tamsin had called in quickly last night to drop in the DVD of Sophie on the chat show. She’d kissed him on the cheek as she’d ran out the front door and he’d gone to the window, noticing Pete sitting in the driving seat of his Audi TT Coupe, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he waited. They were off for another weekend away and as Rob watched his sister get into the car he wondered what on earth she was doing tangled up in a situation like that.

An hour later he was still in bed and watching the Sophie DVD. He thought she was great; as natural and charming on camera as she was at home, although he preferred the at-home Sophie. He watched as hints of that Sophie, the one that had got under his skin with her great laugh and easy conversation as he’d painted her kitchen, shone through on his television screen. As he watched her recounting her horrendous dating stories and explaining why she’d decided to stay single, he thought how unjust it was that she’d been treated so badly. Women like her should be looked after and loved.

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Seven