I’d just adjusted my hips and wrapped my legs around his back, starting to match his rhythm when suddenly he juddered and then stopped. My God, he’d come. It was the quickest ejaculation in history and he still hadn’t made a sound. I looked up questioningly, wondering what he would say, but he said nothing. He just smiled and rolled off, satisfaction all over his face.
Had I missed something? Had I had some weird blackout and missed twenty minutes of time, coming round just at the crucial moment? Or had I just had a sexual encounter that was quicker than boiling an egg?
‘I love you, Carly,’ he whispered.
‘I love you too, Doug,’ I replied automatically. And it was true, I did. I think. Okay, maybe it was a teeny bit confused with lust. And yes, so the first sexual encounter was like making love to a silent man in a hurry, but it was only sex. In every other way, he was perfect.
I couldn’t help comparing him to Joe, who turned me on so much with his whispers during lovemaking, but then that had driven me crazy in the end, too. I was just being bloody fickle, I told myself. The sex would get better, I knew it would.
As for taking things slowly, well, I suppose we did – compared to, say, a Formula One Ferrari.
Things took on a terrifying momentum. Soon Doug was talking about joint bank accounts and property prices.
A few months later, Jess and Sarah came home on leave from uni and we had a girls’ night at Kate’s. It was like Benidorm, without the sun and sand. We each brought the group up to date with the latest news: Carol’s new contract, modelling lingerie for an upmarket department store, Kate’s promotion to ‘trainee stylist’, Sarah’s attempt to seduce her maths tutor, and my romance. Jess was gobsmacked at that development.
‘What’s happened to you, Cooper? So much for travelling the world and meeting interesting people. You were the last person I expected to marry a guy from their home town and settle down before they reached twenty-one.’
‘I know, Jess, but I got my fingers burnt up to the elbows with that one. I’m sure Joe will have a contract out on my head by now. And anyway, what more do I want?’
‘Sex that lasts longer than it takes to make a Pot Noodle?’ Carol volunteered.
I ignored her, even though she was right. We were up to about three minutes now so it still wasn’t rocking my world. It would get better. I just had to give it time. Meanwhile, my indignation was in full flow. ‘Doug’s gorgeous and smart and we’ve known each other since we were kids. I love him to bites.’ I meant ‘bits’, but my Malibu and pineapple had kicked in.
‘Exactly!’ Jess’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve known him for ever. Do you really want to go through life with no surprises?’
‘For God’s sake, you lot, back off. It’s not as if I’m marrying the guy next week. I mean, we’re only going out together. I’m not getting married until I’m at least thirty.’
They all looked at me knowingly. Or maybe they just had glazed expressions caused by too many Malibus.
When Doug arrived the following evening, I was unusually quiet. After at least twenty ‘what’s wrong?’s (him) and the same number of ‘nothing, I’m fine’s (me), I eventually spilled.
‘Doug, do you think maybe we’re too serious? Do you ever wish that you were still going clubbing with your mates and meeting new girls every night?’
He looked at me with a horrified expression. ‘Why would I want to do that? I’ve already found everything I could ever want.’
He looked like he was about to faint, so I backpedalled furiously. What was I thinking? How could I even contemplate hurting Doug? I loved him like he was already one of the family.
He practically was.
Six months later, we were planning our engagement party and putting an offer in on a semi-detached in the next street to my parents. My mother was suggesting having meetings with Doug’s mum to discuss guest lists and the co-ordination of the table covers with the bridesmaids’ dresses.
And I went along with all of it, somehow unable to press the brakes. I felt like I’d created a monster. My life was no longer my own as I was dragged round wedding shop after wedding shop, trying on dresses that made me look like a cross between a Christmas cake and a toilet roll holder.
Yet, it was worth it all to be marrying Doug. Somewhere along the way, I started to miss him if he left the room for more than five minutes. I wasn’t content unless he was beside me, wasn’t complete unless he was holding me tight and telling me how he loved me.
Anyway, it was time I gave up on my wild fantasies and accepted that this was the way life was – you went to school, got a job, settled down and had babies. And no, I wasn’t settling for the easy option (as Jess claimed), I was recognising Mr Right when he was standing in front of me and grabbing him with both hands.
We set the wedding date for February of the following year, two years after we’d met again in the club. Plenty of time to get used to the idea of being Mrs Cook. It was an ironic name, considering I still couldn’t boil a kettle. Not that Doug