20. The Hot One
TWENTY
The Hot One
Thursday, 20 June, 5.00pm
Looking forward to the Material Build party tonight. It’s a good way of passing a couple of hours seeing the latest designer collections, networking with other people in the industry and enjoying lovely food and drink. It’ll be a good party even if it is in a building supplies showroom where we’ll be surrounded by screws, glues and loos.
I’m wearing a knee-length plunge neck (low but tasteful, of course) yellow dress. Bold colour blocking is always good for standing out in a crowd.
Izzy is coming as my guest. It’ll do her good to meet new people and forget about Michael. And I’m meeting Kai, who’ll be there with his surveyor colleagues. He’s my party partner in crime and I haven’t seen him for ages. I’m so glad I kept in touch with him after our Mayfair project finished all those years ago.
Friday, 21 June, 12.30pm
Yup, it was a wild party all right. The wine was flowing, and the canapés were tiny. Bad combination. Will you ever learn, Sophia? AND if I wasn’t menopausal, I would have said I must have been on heat. I spotted loads of attractive men to approach and flirted my way around the party.
At one point, I spotted a good-looking man standing alone. He had floppy brown hair and the most sparkly green eyes. Matteo turned out to be Italian and was on a shopping visit to London for his company. Emboldened by his friendliness, I was about to tell him his eyes were beautiful when he mentioned how much his wife loves London. Doh Sophia. Should have checked the ring finger earlier. I made my excuses and went back to Kai and Izzy.
‘Who was that hunk?’ Kai asked.
‘That’s Matteo, from Italy. And yes, I thought so too, until the wedding band glinted.’ I scowled.
‘If he’s alone in London, you could “entertain him”,’ Kai suggested with a cheeky grin. I told him that wasn’t my style and thought of Leila and her lying cheating husband.
‘You’re projecting what you want to do with him. But I’m afraid he referred to his wife, not husband, so you’re out of luck.’ Kai was unamused. He went off for a smoke while Izzy and I walked around the showroom. When we reached the final display, which looked out onto the back lane, we spotted Kai through the floor to ceiling glass. For some reason I decided to do an exaggerated disco dance and Izzy joined in. Then we blew kisses at Kai and walked away. We thought this was hilarious, but Kai was horrified and mouthed, ‘What The Fuck?’
On the way back to the party area, we giggled as we followed the red wine trail we’d left on our way in. At least it wasn’t a carpet showroom. We re-joined Kai and his colleagues who were standing in a group. One of them was about six foot two, blue eyes, dark hair grey at the temples, and an athletic body. Like a tall pale Rob Lowe, and just as dreamy. I thought his colouring was Irish, and hoped he’d have a lovely accent to go with it. I will call him The Hot One. He was holding court and people were laughing. I like a funny man who can work a crowd. On seeing me and Izzy, they all sniggered.
‘We all enjoyed your window display,’ declared The Hot One. I narrowed my eyes.
‘Didn’t you see all the people smoking out in the lane when you decided to display your dancing skills?’ Kai said.
NO, WE DID NOT. Izzy and I looked at each other, mortified. I was hoping to sidle up to The Hot One and engage in some serious flirting. What must he think of me? I was fighting a hot flush when he came over.
‘I had no idea there was an audience. It was a joke with Kai,’ I said, my face crimson by then.
‘Don’t worry about it. You were very entertaining.’
Away from the pack, he was shy, and yes, there was an Irish lilt to his voice. I smiled and looked up at him as he bent down to talk to me above the din. The redness spread to the rest of my body.
‘In that case, you’re welcome. No charge for the show.’ My eyes smiled back at his shiny pools of blue. I was starting to get my composure back and feeling charged with lust. He was H. O. T. HOT.
‘Are you a surveyor like Kai?’ I asked.
‘No. His old firm were clients of ours. Although, I do know how to survey an asset.’ Thinking that was a corny chat-up line, I raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m a property lawyer. I help protect people’s assets and rights. It’s interesting work but the hours are insane.’
‘You make it sound like you’re a superhero. Truth, and justice, and the British way.’ I did a Superman pose looking into the distance. He laughed. ‘It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s Property Lawyer Man.’ I did a scream pose and squeaked, ‘This looks like a job for Property Lawyer Man.’ He was howling now.
‘What about you? What kind of superhero are you?’
Superman and Superwoman are the extent of my knowledge about comic books, but Superwoman would have been too obvious. Then I remembered a character I read about in an article about cool feminist heroes. She was perfect.
‘I think I’d be Suzie,’ I said. He narrowed his eyes. What he didn’t know was that Suzie, a librarian, has a superpower. Whenever she has an orgasm, time stops for her, and she gets up to no-good when the world around her is frozen. She meets Jon, an actor, at a party and discovers he can do the same. They decide to sexploit their powers as a couple and start their career as sex criminals. ‘She’s a comic book character with a special superpower. You should look it up.’
‘So, your family must find it difficult if you’re always working late at the office,’ I fished.
‘No, I’m divorced but I try to see my twins as often as I can. They live with their mum.’
He told me the twins were about to have their sixth birthday. I said I was young, free and single, and told him about the married Italian incident.
‘I’m glad he was married. You’re talking to me now.’
I melted.
‘I’m glad too.’ I did my Lady Di shy eyes while I sipped my wine.
‘Does that mean you might say yes if someone asked you out for a drink?’
Yes, yes, yes. ‘Hypothetically, if someone asked me out for a drink, and they were super-hot, I might say yes.’
I gave him my number, and thought it was a good time to make an exit as I could feel the effects of the wine. I didn’t want to start off the encounter doing something embarrassing. Then I remembered I’d already done that. Later, I had a text from him asking if I got home OK which was nice. Then another saying he’d found Suzie, and that Property Lawyer Man might want to give up lawyering and become an actor with a special superpower. That made my tummy tingle. And my vagina. I managed to text ‘good night’ and ‘Let me know when you want to go for that drink’ before falling into a deep happy sleep.
11.30pm
I was hoping to get a text from him today but nothing. We were all a bit drunk last night and I want to be sure he’s interested enough to initiate a conversation in the light of day and ask me out properly. I don’t want to chase him. Might have to ask Kai, but he’s not the most discreet of people, so I’d better play it cool for now. Still, a poem would be appropriate.
You fell into my life like a meteorite
Cor, you are a bit of all right
Boom, wham, zap, pop, kapow
You’re giving me the throbs now
You look like a man of steel
With extra superhero sex appeal
Your looks are an absolute marvel
Your eyes the colour of blue marble
If you kiss me, I won’t raise an objection
I won’t say no to a whole-body connection
You are The Hot One, the caped hero of justice
I want coitus with you, not interruptus
I want our bodies to be legally binding
I want them to soon be grinding
I hope you are a sexual daredevil
The kind that will make my bed dishevel
I’m looking forward to feeling your deposition
Or better still an unrefusable proposition
Saturday, 22 June, 1.30pm
Only Leila today for the Brunch Bunch. I told her about The Hot One and how much I liked him. I confessed that my sex-only rule was about to be broken as meeting him had made me reconsider my intentions. She listened patiently as I babbled.
‘That’s fabulous, honey. Go for it and have some fun. But remember you’ve met him once. Don’t jump in and decide he’s the one for you before getting to know him. I know what you’re like.’
Yes, she knows exactly what I’m like. She can see I’ll throw myself in, convinced he’s the perfect man for me way too early, then get upset when it goes wrong. She’s trying to protect me from ME. But I’m not too old to learn new tricks. I can handle this, though I should listen to her advice. I’m probably reading too much into a random drunken conversation. Or did his eyes twinkle when he looked at me?
‘I know. You’re right, but we really did have a connection.’
‘So why do you think he hasn’t followed through and asked you out yet? He did imply he was going to do that, didn’t he?’ She wasn’t going to let it drop. She was applying logic because she knew my logic had vanished. She was asking the sort of questions I would have asked if it had been her. She’s right. As the CEO of Amateur Counselling Services PLC, I should give myself the best advice possible, except I seem to have morphed into a teenage intern on a summer holiday work placement. I have no clue.
‘I think he might be shy,’ I offered.
‘Honey, he’s a commercial lawyer. They don’t come in shy models.’
‘He could be waiting a while, so he doesn’t look stalky.’
‘Hmm … be careful, OK?’
She was right. I am going to be sensible, and not get too excited or it’ll end in tears. Now all I must do is apply that advice to my actions. I can’t believe that overnight I’ve gone from ‘I never ever want a relationship again’ to being this excited about the slim possibility of one.
To shut her up, I showed her the poem about The Hot One. She grabbed my phone and started reading it out loud, pushing me away when I tried to retrieve my phone. When she’d finished, there was a hush and people were looking. I noticed the old couple next to us, him with his mouth open and her smiling. She winked at me.
11.30pm
No text from The Hot One. Damn. Why hasn’t he got in touch? I wonder if I should take matters into my own hands. It’s the twenty-first century, and I should practise what I preach about equality. I shouldn’t have to wait for a man to ask me out, but I don’t want to appear desperate either. This is why I find relationships so hard. You’re entirely at someone else’s mercy. You can’t control how they feel or behave, but their emotions and intentions affect you. Tomorrow I’ll do a bit of swiping and see if anyone can take my mind off him. Yes, I’ll keep my options open.
Monday, 24 June, 11.30pm
Messaged a couple of people on Kindling but my heart’s not in it. I can’t be bothered.
Tuesday, 25 June, 11.30pm
Lisa sent me a lovely picture of Hannah posing in her new princess heaven bedroom, holding up a ‘Thank you, Sophia’ sign. She’s adorable. Moments like this make my job so rewarding.
If I had a grandchild her age, I would design the most beautiful magical bedroom for her. It would have animal murals on the walls, stylish furniture, and lots of fairy lights. If only.
Wednesday, 26 June, 4.30pm
One of Leila’s friends is having a launch party on Friday for her new book called Pubic Hair Etiquette . It’ll be fun to hear her do a reading and catch up with a few friends over a drink. I think I’ll invite The Hot One. It’s just a casual social invitation. Not a date. This way if he doesn’t show any interest, I won’t have the embarrassment of being rejected.
11.30pm
Hurrah! Kai and The Hot One are up for it.
Friday, 28 June, 5.30pm
It’s the night of the book launch. Maybe tonight I’ll get together with The Hot One. The anticipation is killing me. I’m fed up with all the disappointing dates and just want a sex machine who adores me.
Saturday, 29 June, 9.30am
I thought I’d created the perfect scenario to pick up where I left off with The Hot One, but my cunning plan didn’t work. He arrived late, though he made a hell of an entrance. He stood at the bookshop door, took in the room with smouldering eyes, then swaggered across the room towards us in a sharp navy suit and adorably ruffled hair. Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get It On’ played in my head. I looked at Leila and mouthed ‘Wow’, but she raised a nonplussed eyebrow. Later, my hopes were dashed as, apart from complimenting my green tea dress and a quick conversation in which he told me the author sounded up herself, I hardly got near him. In fact, it felt like he was avoiding me, and then he left early.
I’m annoyed with myself for reading too much into our last conversation. He certainly didn’t show any spark of interest this time. Why did he come? Or did I play it too cool and didn’t give him a chance to get close?
P.S. The best bit of the evening was the author reading. The blurb on the book said that ‘Ellie Anderson (28) has a degree in social anthropology with a special interest in aesthetics’. When she was introduced, she folded her leather-clad legs onto the chair, closed her eyes and took such a long dramatic pause that the worried bookshop owner was about to intervene. Then she took in a few slow breaths and finally read her book’s introduction:
To bare, or not to bare, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler to remove and suffer
The slings and arrows of a waxing regimen,
Or to take arms against a full bush
And by opposing end them. To shave—to laser,
No more; and with a removing cream we end
The pain of the thousand shaving nicks
That flesh is bare to: ’tis a Brazilian.
The Hot One had a point. But it was interesting to hear what drives pubic hair grooming choices, from one man shaving his pubes to make his penis look bigger, to a woman shaping and colouring hers as a form of artistic self-expression. Of course, we all wanted to know what style of pubic hair the author had, but nobody dared ask.
1.30pm
Had a The Hot One debrief with the Brunch Bunch. Leila had a chat with him last night but didn’t pick up any vibes about me. Damn. She also said, and I quote, ‘Anyway, why are you so obsessed with him? He has a good body but he’s no oil painting.’
I beg to differ.
11.30pm
Kai texted this afternoon to say thanks for the invite. But nothing from The Hot One. Right, that’s it then. It’s not going to happen with him, so I’m going to do some swiping before bedtime, and go back to plan A and looking for sex. I’m not cut out for this relationship lark.
Sunday, 30 June, 10.00am
Leila is sixty today. How did that happen? How have I known her for nearly fifty years? I remember going to her twelfth birthday party. Her family had recently moved from Tehran to Totnes. Her mum had tried her best to make the party ‘English friendly’, but the kids had never heard of Kookoo or Khoresht or Piroshki and refused to eat. Even though Leila couldn’t speak much English, I knew we’d be friends for life the first time she made me laugh by mimicking one of the arrogant older school boys behind his back.
She’s rejected all suggestions of a birthday party, so I’m taking her out for lunch at The Wolseley, then delivering her back to Jude for dinner. I hope he’s got something amazing planned. She deserves amazing. Anyway, I’m going to forget about cheating Jude and have a fabulous time with my best friend.
7.30pm
We reminisced and laughed so much and got through two bottles of fizz.
‘Do you remember our holiday in Goa? Was it in the 80s or 90s?’ Leila asked.
‘The one where we were both recovering from a breakup?’
‘That’s the one. I’d been consoling myself with food and you’d been punishing yourself by starving. So I was heavier than usual and you were a lollipop, and people thought you were my daughter,’ Leila said, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
‘Yes, and I remember the taxi driver who took us everywhere. One night we got back to the hotel and as we got out of the car, he looked us up and down, inclined his head from side to side and said, “Oh lovely. One big. One small”.’
We both shrieked and other diners stared, so I gave her my presents. A bottle of sweet cider to remind her of the first time we got drunk at the church disco, a Maths for Dummies book – I’m sure she still thinks a times table is a table for a clock – and hair products – styling our hair must have taken up sixty per cent of our teenage years. And a glamping weekend in Dorset, to which she said, ‘You know I hate camping’, but she accepted graciously when I suggested she should try something new in her sixty-first year on this earth.
When I took her back home, Jude was all smiles while Leila told him about our day, but behind her back, he gave me the evil eye. What the fuck? I’m starting to think it’s not just that I caught him misbehaving but that he’s jealous of me. He envies my closeness and friendship with Leila and can’t stand to see her so happy around me. The green-eyed monster has reared its head. What will it do next?
11.30pm
WELL, WELL, WELL, things are looking up with The Hot One. Feeling happy and optimistic earlier, I decided I needed to know one way or another if The Hot One was interested. I’m a modern independent woman after all and I shouldn’t have to sit around and wait for a man to approach me.
Hi, have you had a good weekend?
Hi, I’m working today. How was yours?
That’s a shame, but I suppose Property Lawyer Man’s work is never done. There are assets out there to save!
Ha ha, yes, I guess so
I’ve been celebrating Leila’s 60th today
Lucky you. Sounds better than being in an office all day.
Those clients won’t save themselves.
Ha ha. You can tease me if you want
I did have a lovely time, but I was a bit distracted
Why was that?
I imagined you in a superman outfit
Was it a good image?
Oh yes, super.
Then he asked me if I wanted to go away for the weekend which was a way over the top response. I wonder if he likes me, or he just wanted company. Or sex. Either way, it was too much and then some.
BUT we now have a date for the following Monday. Yippee. I’m good at taking the initiative, so why didn’t I do it before instead of fretting about whether he’s interested? How long should I wait before having sex with him? I don’t want it to be a one-night stand. I like him too much for that. Stay cool, Sophia. You haven’t even been on a first date and you’re planning the next one. Get a grip.