Chapter Thirty One - A Change of Plans?

Jennifer held her mobile in her hands, paranoid as she wondered whether to call Sophie or not. Generally she was a fabulous sister, if a little square on the men front, but Jen wasn’t sure how Sophie would react to her latest shenanigans. She felt like shit. It was taking her at least 4 days to recover lately and the thoughts of another weekend filled her with dread. She was caught in the spiral of taking so much coke that she didn’t care who the man was that she left with – as long as he was male – that’s where the criteria began and ended. Her perpetual runny nose was irritating her and she hated the way that she had to continually sniff! She looked down at her gel nails with their squared whitened tips and focussed on the backs of her hands. The fake tan had settled in darker lines in the maze of tiny diamond-shaped wrinkles that spanned her hands. She felt sick as she remembered how the backs of her hands were once as smooth as foie gras and resented the signs of age that were creeping up on her. She was tired of feeling ill and exhausted with the pretence that her life was one social whirl of dates, parties and beauty salon appointments. It didn’t help that her mother rang once a week from America and recounted numerous stories of her perfect life and perfect man and perfect perfect perfection! It reinforced her low self-esteem despite her pretending to clamber back up the helter skelter slide of self-worth – Jen hated herself and her life. She felt like a failure as a woman, as a daughter, as a lover and as a sister.

*

Trevor drove his car around to the mechanics garage. He’d booked it in for its MOT at 2.30 and was desperate to get it sorted. He figured that he couldn’t attract the women without his wheels and the mechanic he’d spoken to had assured him that he’d have his motor back by the end of the day. He was meeting Sophie in the afternoon and his interview with her would be the ultimate way to pass the couple of hours while he waited for the car. He had been fleetingly disappointed when she’d declined his request to go to dinner, but he hadn’t wasted time looking for a replacement. He was going to get laid tonight one way or the other – and there were plenty of women listed on his mobile. He’d have someone sitting in Sophie’s empty chair at the restaurant before the afternoon was out.

*

I’ve emailed Adrian to say that I can’t go to the gig. I’m really gutted that I can’t go, but Tamsin needs me tonight. I can just see the slogan ‘missed opportunity’ written all over this, but friends have to come first, don’t they? I’m on my way to meet Trevor Malone and give him the interview he wants; I’m expecting him to be very cheeky and naughty with his questions, so I’m prepared….

*

Tamsin knew that Rob and Soph would scream at her, but she had to cancel them coming around tonight. She hated the fact that she was going to have to lie to them both, but in the light that she’d actually told them both that Pete was married, and his wife was now pregnant, she suspected that they’d both crucify her if they knew that she’d arranged to meet him tonight.

Just to talk.

Just for a while.

Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty - Seeing The 'I-Woulds' From The Trees?

So what am I going to do? I’ve got too many decisions to make now. I think I’ll email Trevor and agree to his interview, but I’ll decline the dinner invitation. If I suggest that we meet for coffee in the afternoon, maybe around 3, then I’ll have plenty of time to spread myself thinly and be there for Tam in the evening too. It does seem strange though, that he wants to interview me outside of office hours and include a lush restaurant meal, but then again, the guy obviously has ulterior motives – what with the endless supply of flowers! I’ve donated 4 bouquets this week to the London Hospital – they think I’m weird; giving away these gorgeous bouquets, but I don’t know the guys sending them, so they don’t mean anything to me! Ha – listen to me! Talk about blasé! Not bad for a girl who’s trying to stay single, eh?

The troublesome choice for me is what to do with Adrian. Don’t be fooled, I know exactly what I’d really love to do with Adrian, but we’re only on friendly terms, but just the thoughts of him get me all hot and bothered and tingly down below. I’d love to go to the gig with him too. It’s a long time since I’ve been to a London gig and I can just imagine the low ceilings and sweaty bodies and the condensation dripping down on me! These hearts-and-flowers and romantic meals are great, but it all feels fake! If I’m honest I’m finding it difficult to determine what is fake and what isn’t. Paul Ashkuri left me a voice mail apologising for his behaviour last week and asked if I’d see him again. As gorgeous as he is, I won’t risk another night like that. My nerves were shattered with every camera that flashed in my face and I couldn’t relax after that. Thankfully the newspapers have been divided on their story angle – some of them sided with Ashkuri, commenting that a magazine features writer who wanted to remain single wasn’t quite up to his L.A. standards anyway, but others had published the images where he was pushing me away. In fact, a couple of the red-tops have been really complimentary to me, running headlines like Arsehole Ashkuri and With Men Like These, Why Don’t We All Stay Single? – (which I actually thought was excellent!) Needless to say though, I won’t be seeing him again. I hear he’s flying back to L.A next month, so it won’t be like I’ll be bumping into him. Adrian was really nice about it all – I saw him the lift this morning and he gave me the sexiest wink and said that he thought I was too good for Ashkuri anyway.

I nearly melted….

And now I have to tell him that I can’t go to the gig. I’ll tell him in the morning.

Typical of my luck!

*

Rob made an effort to get into work extra early on Saturday morning as he hoped to make a quick getaway this evening, to call in and pick up some comedy DVD’s and some food, ready to take around to Tamsin’s later on, for this evening. He’d stopped at the bakery and had bought himself 2 huge bacon and egg baguettes, and was still tucking into the first one as he unlocked the garage. As usual he flicked the ‘on’ button to boil up some water for a hot and strong mug of tea as he checked his appointment book –

• Finish Don Fletchers exhaust
• Mrs Wheelers brakes + service
• Trevor Malone – 2.30 – MOT

With any luck he was sure he’d be away by 4 ‘o’clock.

*

I’m tired. It’s another scorching morning, but the difference today is that I don’t need to rush up and out for work. I can hear that the street is already busy, the rumble of wheelie bins being moved and the shuffle of flip flops on the move. It was extra hot night last night and I had trouble sleeping. The weather has been adorable but the nights are equally as hot – there’s no reprieve. Despite opening my bedroom window, the air was still and thick, which meant I lay naked, with my duvet kicked to my ankles, as I starfished on my bed. And still I was clammy and hot. And it got me thinking. About who I really would love to have there beside me. In the heat my skin was tingling, my breasts were puckered with goose pimples and my nipples were rock hard – despite the intense blanket of heat. I felt myself gasp for breath as I thought about Adrian and how I’m becoming rather obsessed with him. I’ve managed to keep a lid on it, satisfying myself with a quick ‘hello’ in the lift or ‘thanks’ when he hands me a brown Starbucks bag. But his sexy blue eyes and boyish good looks are printed on the inside of my eyelids and I can’t help but think of the way his shirt always seems slightly strained at the chest. It amuses me that he works for a publication as straight as Accountancy Age, or whatever one it is that he writes for, because he looks so damn hot and trendy. But in another way, I think I like that about him – it suggests a degree of balance and reliability – something that has been intensely lacking in every guy that I’ve been romantically linked with. I know that I’m doing The Most Dangerous Thing – which I always do – which is to build an imaginary personality and character to Adrian based on a few stray scraps of information. And this really is The Most Dangerous Thing – because no man has ever lived up to my expectations. I could feel my pulse beating in my neck and banging in my chest, the moody sounds of a growl as a car drove past in the thick night air, somehow making me more aware of my senses. At one point I was finding it difficult to breathe as I slid my hand across my chest, brushing my hard nipples, and then slowly pushing downward to that tingling spot between my legs.

I so would have loved to have Adrian there with me at that moment.

Boy, I could do that guy some serious damage…..

Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty One

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!!!!!

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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