Her last message had been sent on the 11th of January, herfirst on the 6th. The one about “fucking my brains out” had been sent on the9th which was a Sunday, according to my diary.
Most people didn’t look forward to early January but Icouldn’t wait for it to come round.
January 2022
Most Sundays, Stacey came up from London to visit, sometimesbringing David, sometimes not. When she visited on the 16th of January, shementioned that she’d missed me the previous Sunday and enquired as to whetheror not I’d enjoyed my golf.
Clearly I must have told her that that was what I had beendoing, so I made a mental note to ring her early on Sunday morning to tell her.Quite why anyone in their right mind would want to go out and play golf on afreezing cold day in January was beyond me. I had a much more enjoyable game inmind, and it wasn’t golf balls that were going to be getting a workout.
On the 10th of January, for the first time since I had lefthospital, I awoke to find myself somewhere other than at home in my own bed. Itwas daylight outside and there was just enough sunshine coming in through thegap in the curtains for me to make out my surroundings.
I was in a bedroom much smaller than my own, with barelyenough room to house the double bed I was in. The walls had been painted white,quite some time ago by the look of them, as the paint was peeling offeverywhere. A few posters of bands I had never heard of adorned the walls. Theroom was sorely in need of some redecoration.
All of that took but a split second to take in. Of fargreater interest was the gorgeous-looking creature curled up next to me in thebed. She was fast asleep, facing me and snoring softly.
She was just as I had seen her in the pictures on my phone.She had quite a chubby face, fringed by a sharply cut bob of dark hair whichcomplemented her face perfectly. Instinctively I reached across and cuddled upto her.
She seemed much more petite than I had imagined, her feet seemingbarely to go down much below my knee, but to be fair, she was quite curled up.
I kissed her and she awoke, smiling. “Morning, gorgeous,”she said. She had an infectious, cheeky grin and I couldn’t keep my hands offher, running them along her body, wanting more.
“Mmmm, you’re frisky this morning,” she remarked. “Didn’tyou have enough last night?” And with that, she pushed me over onto my back andwriggled her way down the bed. I really hoped she might be about to do what Ithought she was about to do, and I wasn’t disappointed.
The next ten minutes were a blur of ecstasy. Afterwards,Lauren reached across to a tiny bedside table, took a cigarette out from apacket, and lit up. “Want one?” she asked.
“No – I don’t smoke,” I said, though I was sorely tempted.I’d learnt to manage my nicotine cravings, but having this cute, sexy girl, whohad just done what she had done, coolly lighting up next to me was extremelytempting.
“You could have fooled me,” she said. “You were chainingthem last night.”
I realise I’d made a slip and quickly said, “Yes, I know,but I’m supposed to be giving up, New Year’s resolution and all that.”
She looked across to the clock, which read 9.12am. “I’mgoing to have to get moving, I’m due in work at ten.”
“What do you do?” I asked, and then quickly realised I’dmade another mistake. She looked annoyed as she replied, “I told you all aboutthat yesterday, obviously you weren’t listening. I’m working as a beautician ina salon in town.”
“Will I see you later?” I asked, hopefully, slightlydisappointed that our morning together was going to be cut short so soon.
“I can’t tonight. I’m going out with my friend, Kaylee. I’lltext you tomorrow, yeah?”
“OK,” I said. I had no reason to be bothered. I already knewshe was going to dump me the next day, and I had all the pleasures of theprevious days still to come.
We left at the same time, emerging out into a busy WaltonStreet, the low winter sun making me squint. We kissed goodbye and she headedinto town, whilst I began the two-mile walk home back to North Oxford. It wascold and frosty, but I was still well and truly basking in the afterglow.
I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t hear from Lauren again thatday. I already knew that there would be no text messages, and she didn’t call.I pondered over what she’d said and the text that had come the day after.
The most obvious explanation was that she’d gone out withher friend, met another bloke, and decided to drop me for him. I didn’t feel particularlybitter: after all, I’d been punching well above my weight to have got with herin the first place.
The next day was Sunday, and I did not wake up in Lauren’sbedsit, but back home in my own bed. I checked my phone. The message aboutfucking my brains out had disappeared.
How was I going to play this? I should have asked her whatwe’d done the previous day when I had the chance, but I had been ratherdistracted on the Monday morning and then she’d rushed off to work.
I remembered that she’d sent the message just before midday,so I waited until about a quarter to twelve, and then rang her.
She sounded genuinely pleased to hear me and full ofenthusiasm when I asked her if she fancied meeting up for Sunday lunch. Therewas a lot of flirty talk on the phone, and sure enough the famous “brains” textarrived shortly afterwards, word for word exactly as it had done before. I wasin for a good day.
I met her in a riverside pub by the Thames, which I hadheard did a fantastic Sunday roast. I wasn’t disappointed. Over a huge helpingof roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and
