Chapter Four
We hail a minicab and kiss all the way home – Ben’s raw, intense energy continues, his hands eager as we stumble, intoxicated, into our flat.
The entire block is silent, everyone else presumably still a couple of miles away, in the club, on the dance floor, oblivious to what’s happening here.
Knowing this is going to be a one-time thing makes me feel dangerous, excited, ready to push myself out of my comfort zone and indulge in what is essentially my first-ever one-night stand with someone new.
It’s exploratory, both about myself and about what one-night stands might be like.
The alcohol also probably helps with all of this and, back in my room, Ben’s hands pull my skin-tight dress over my head, unclip my bra and then I begin on his jeans, while he gets to work on his shirt, fumbling excitedly with the buttons.
He mumbles something vague and incoherent about how hot I am, in clothes and out of them, but I don’t need to hear it.
It’s happening regardless of any platitudes Ben has to utter.
His hard-on inside his boxers does things to me that only helps.
He pulls me towards him, only our underwear between us, and our warm bodies press together, his hand sliding inside my knickers, inside me.
His eyes meet mine and I struggle not to fall completely apart, right there and then.
With deep concentration I hold off on whatever it is Ben’s trying to succeed in doing to me up against the locked door.
My hand finds the waistband of his boxers, pulling the elastic away from his torso and taking him in my palm while he mouths the words ‘Oh, shit’ very softly into my ear.
We could just do this, but I sense we won’t get sexual again after tonight and I’d really like to get laid.
This is a one-time opportunity with Ben.
The clock is ticking until we return to normality.
Or whatever sense of normality we’ve conjured in the short space of time since we met each other earlier this week.
On my bedside table I’ve got a pack of condoms and Ben looks surprised when I fetch one.
‘Put this on,’ I say as seductively as possible while issuing instructions involving contraception.
His surprise rises, as does his erection.
‘Or I’ll put it on for you,’ I suggest. If he’s about to have a moan about condoms, then this isn’t happening whatsoever.
‘Oh, Christ, that’s fucking hot,’ he says.
‘You put it on me.’ He folds his hands behind his head, grinning like this has never happened to him before.
I roll the condom onto him and he moans and swears, all at the same time.
And then everything happens in such a rush as we land in a heap on my bed together, arms and legs entwining, torsos pressed together.
Ben enters me slowly, enjoying the desperate noises I make as he slides in and out of me, as I tighten my grip around his waist, encouraging him on.
He watches me intently until he changes tack, speeding up, his hand between my legs, moving at the same rhythm, increasing my desperation for release until it’s just too much, too much, and I can’t hold on any longer.
Thank God the flat is empty, because I shout something out – some sort of indiscernible noise – at such an almighty decibel that Ben puts his hand over my mouth, laughing in surprise.
And then when I’m quiet, breathing hot, gasping breaths, he releases his hand from my mouth and his face changes into one of sheer concentration.
His hands grip my thighs, holding them apart, pushing himself deeper and deeper into me, harder and harder, and I feel flutterings again as he takes me back towards another orgasm that never quite arrives as his entire body shudders, his eyes close and his pace varies into a hundred different speeds all at once, until I feel Ben come.
Breathlessly he collapses into me, his face against my neck, the weight of his body on top of mine, my hand in his hair, damp with sweat.
He changes position, pulls back, looks at me, brushes an eyelash from my cheek. ‘Was that OK?’ he asks eventually.This man is full of surprises, as that’s not at all what I thought he’d say.
Laughing is absolutely not the right course of action here and, being so new at one-night stands, I wonder if I’m breaking a rule by pulling his face towards me and kissing him over and over again by way of an answer.
I can’t help it. I’m going to blame post-sex endorphins, the need for human connection, an emotional union in addition to the physical one.
Ben returns the kiss, his body against mine, and then he rolls me so that we’re facing each other, on our sides.
The smell of sex is in the air, mixed with his cologne, my perfume, alcohol and the scent of dried sweat from the club, in addition to a new sheen on both our bodies.
His kiss is gentle, soft, his tongue swirling delicately against mine in a quietly seductive way that we simply didn’t have time for about twenty minutes ago.
Then he pulls back, a tiny, quick peck against my kiss-swollen lips.
Instinctively he reaches down between us, holds on to the condom, pulls out of me and reaches for tissues from my bedside table.
After sex is always so messy, in my limited experience.
When he’s binned the evidence he falls back next to me, turns into me again, his mouth finding mine.
Neither of us speaks for a moment and I take the opportunity to discover parts of him I didn’t have the inclination to before.
His abs are tight and he’s got the very beginnings of a six-pack.
I roll my fingers up and down his stomach and Ben closes his eyes, but I don’t think he’s anywhere near falling asleep, just enjoying the sensation.
‘Did you work out a lot this summer?’ I ask as my fingertips brush over his hard muscles.
‘Not really.’ He smiles.
‘I don’t believe you,’ I tell him.
‘OK, so I might have done a lot of crunches by the pool this summer,’ he admits. ‘In between beers.’
‘How do you drink so much and still stay so …’ I gesture to his abs.
‘Dunno,’ he says. ‘Good metabolism?’
‘If you say so,’ I reply, rising from the bed, looking for my underwear, which I can’t immediately see.
When we got in we didn’t flick the light on.
Instead I let the glow of the street lamps outside light our way, the hideous net curtains shielding us from the view of the hall block across the road.
‘Where are you going?’ Ben asks, sitting up on his elbows.
‘Get some water. Want me to bring you one to your room?’
He glances around like he can’t work out where he is. ‘But we’re in your room,’ he replies, somewhat dimly.
‘I know. But if you want to go back to your room to sleep, I’ll bring one to you.’
‘Why do I want to go to my room?’
‘Because these single beds are so small. Too small for two.’
‘I reckon we could make it work. If we put our minds to it.’
I smile to myself. Whatever. I grab my dressing gown and fetch us both some water from the kitchen, returning to find that Ben has lain back down, tucking himself against the furthest side of the bed against the wall.
‘See?’ he says. ‘Plenty of room.’
‘You don’t have to stay,’ I tell him. ‘This girl needs her beauty sleep.’ I hand him a glass and take my dressing gown back off and his eyes cast over my breasts again, but at least he glances back to my eyes to speak to me.
‘You kicking me out?’ he asks with a surprised laugh. ‘Are you done with me now?’
‘Might be a good idea.’
‘Wow! Brutal,’ he chuckles.
‘Before the others come home,’ I rationalise, and then it’s too late as I hear laughter in the hall, hushed voices, more laughter. I hear Liv cry, ‘Shh, shh’ and then I hear nothing – not a single noise.
Ben glances at me and gives me a furrowed What is happening? look, followed by a laugh that he smothers.
I give him the same expression.
There is not a sound to be heard, and then a bedroom door closes and there are muffled noises probably not too dissimilar from the sounds Ben and I made not that long ago.
‘Do you think that silence was them kissing? Are they going to …?’ I ask, but I already know the answer.
‘Probably. And good for them,’ Ben replies cheerfully. He unfolds the duvet, gesturing for me to get in beside him. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘You want to be the little spoon or the big spoon?’
I blink. ‘What?’
‘I’m joking,’ he says. ‘Just get in and be quiet. It’s sleepy time now.’