Chapter 1 #2
‘Hello, sweetie!’ Marjorie said as she air-kissed both my cheeks. She had short brown hair, white skin and was wearing her favourite bright pink lipstick, which matched the roses on her long floral-patterned dress.
‘Hi!’ I replied.
‘I brought the gift!’ Cordelia waved an envelope in the air before greeting me.
Like Marjorie and Juliette, Cordelia was in her fifties. She was dressed in a smart pleated blue dress. Her porcelain skin was plump and smooth, probably thanks to her regular high-end facials. And her blonde bob was always immaculate.
‘Fantastique!’ Juliette said. ‘I will tell Laila about it now before surprise number two.’
‘Surprise number two?’ My brows furrowed. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I told you, darling,’ Juliette said. ‘I have organised some treats for you!’
‘Here.’ Cordelia handed me the envelope.
I tore it open and found a sheet of paper inside.
‘What’s this?’ I said, scanning the text.
‘It’s a receipt for a deposit to stay at the Love Hotel in Paris!’ Cordelia chirped.
‘Huh?’ I blinked rapidly.
‘The luxury resort where they find your perfect match!’ Cordelia clarified. ‘Juliette paid the deposit. Isn’t she just the best? Always so generous! You know how much she hates doing stuff online, so I did all the techy booking bits.’
‘Once they’ve found your Mr Right, you’ll get to enjoy two weeks of rumpy-pumpy with a hot Parisian in a five-star all-expenses-paid hotel,’ Marjorie added. ‘Ding, dong! If I wasn’t married, I’d go myself!’
‘I don’t think it’s that kind of hotel, Marjorie,’ Cordelia scolded. ‘It’s a very high-end establishment.’
‘The point is,’ Juliette added, ‘going to this hotel will allow you to enjoy the company of a man without having to use the apps, just like I promised.’
‘This is so generous – too generous. Thank you,’ I said. ‘But I can’t accept.’
‘Oh, but you must!’ Cordelia insisted. ‘The deposit’s non-refundable!’
‘But, if this is the deposit, how much is the rest?’ My stomach tightened.
The balance had to be at least another thousand pounds, which was money I didn’t have. Although I had one less mouth to feed, the fridge and the washing machine were on their last legs, so they’d need to be replaced soon. As amazing as it sounded, I couldn’t afford to go swanning off to Paris.
‘Juliette has it covered!’ Marjorie said. ‘She’s such an amazing friend.’
‘I try,’ Juliette grinned. ‘I always like to help those in need and it is your birthday soon, so consider it an early present. Let us take a photo!’
After reaching into her designer handbag, Juliette swiped on a fresh coat of red lipstick, positioned herself in the centre of the group, then handed her phone to Cordelia.
‘Make sure that you get my good side,’ Juliette commanded. ‘And hold up the receipt, so that people can see what the gift is.’
‘Good idea!’ Cordelia added. ‘This could become a memento of the moment you first discovered you were going to Paris to find your future husband.’
‘Laila does not need a husband!’ Juliette scoffed as Cordelia held out her arm and snapped a few photos. ‘This is just to help her have some fun.’
Just as I was about to politely decline again, the doorbell rang. Juliette, Cordelia and Marjorie all looked at each other and smiled.
What were they up to?
‘Could you get that, please, Laila?’ Juliette said, quirking an eyebrow.
‘Okay…’ I frowned.
When I opened the door, there was a tall, very imposing-looking policeman.
‘Laila Hall?’ he boomed.
‘Y-yes? Is everything okay? Has something happened? Is my son okay?’ My heart thumped against my chest.
‘I’m here because you have committed a very serious crime.’
‘What?’ My mind raced as I frantically tried to think about what the hell he could be talking about.
The only bad thing I’d done lately was taking the last chocolate biscuit in the office a few days ago. But no sensible person left chocolate Hobnobs lying around unattended and expected them to last more than five minutes, right?
‘There must be a mistake!’ I added, sweat pooling on my forehead.
‘No.’ He stepped into the hallway. ‘Juliette said you’ve been ignoring your needs, so I’m here to satisfy them.’ He licked his lips suggestively.
Panic washed over me and I was about to cry out for help when I heard laughter from behind me.
‘Juliette?’ I spun around. ‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s not a real policeman!’ Marjorie clarified. ‘He’s a stripper! Juliette said we couldn’t throw a party without a bit of sausage!’ She cackled.
A stripper?
Oh, dear God, no.
‘Come this way, sexy,’ Juliette purred, taking the policeman’s hand. ‘And you, Laila!’
Once I’d trudged back to the conservatory, Marjorie pulled out a chair and I reluctantly sat down.
The ‘policeman’, who’d already fired up a sexy song on a mini speaker, stepped forward, stood in front of me and started thrusting his hips back and forth.
Juliette pulled out her phone and started taking photos.
Jesus.
The last thing I needed was photographic evidence of this cringeworthy moment.
Next the guy whipped off his hat and placed it on my head, before trailing his hand across his chest then dropping it between his legs.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I knew this was some people’s idea of a good time, but I didn’t like being the centre of attention or having a stranger rubbing his bits and thrusting his hips just inches away from my face.
‘I… this—’ I went to protest, but before I’d managed to string a sentence together, the man had ripped off his shirt, exposing his bare chest.
As Juliette, Marjorie and Cordelia all whooped and cheered, I sank further into my seat.
The policeman continued pumping his hips in time to the music and reached for his trousers, before tearing them off and exposing his tight PVC pants.
‘Oooh-er!’ Marjorie cooed. ‘Is that a truncheon in your pants, officer, or are you just happy to see us?’ She cackled.
I didn’t know where to look. It’d been years since I’d come this close to a half-naked man and having a stranger’s crotch in front of me was making me very, very uncomfortable.
‘Erm.’ I jumped up, removing his hat and dropping it on the table, narrowly missing a creamy pastry. ‘Thanks so much for the gifts, ladies… and for all of this,’ I gestured between his legs, ‘but I’m… I’m going to head home.’
‘But he hasn’t even got his cock out yet!’ Marjorie gasped.
‘I’m…’ I said to the policeman. ‘Sorry. It’s not a reflection on you. I’m sure you have a very lovely, er, cock.’ I winced. ‘But… I have to go. Bye!’
I sprinted out of the conservatory, through the front door then raced into the safety of my own home.
What the hell was that?
When Juliette said she’d arranged some surprises to help get me back into the dating game, I wasn’t expecting to be ambushed by a stripper.
I preferred to get to at least know a man’s name before having his truncheon in my face. There had to be other less abrasive ways to ease myself back into dating again.
Maybe like the Love Hotel place they mentioned.
Although Marjorie and Juliette had made it sound like some sort of hook-up hotel, Cordelia, who was the more level-headed one of the group, said it was a reputable place.
Time to find out for myself.
After pulling out the envelope they’d given me earlier, I headed to the sofa, took out my phone, then typed in the hotel’s web address into my browser.
Whoa.
This place was next-level luxury. With its grand stone exterior and doormen dressed in fancy branded uniforms, it looked like somewhere celebrities stayed. Not people like me.
And Cordelia was right. This place looked legit. It was very high-end and it seemed like they focused on helping people find meaningful long-term relationships, not hook-ups.
That sounded much more like what I was looking for. Companionship.
Happy couple after happy couple flashed up on the home page.
I clicked on the case studies, telling myself I’d only have a quick look.
But two hours later I’d read dozens of stories about people of all ages and backgrounds who’d given up hope of finding love, but had gone to the hotel and left with their soulmate.
There was a woman in her forties who’d never had a proper serious relationship, but went there and found her Mr Right. And she wasn’t alone. There were countless success stories.
Although they couldn’t all be fake, it sounded too good to be true.
As much as I’d love to skip the whole awkward online dating crap, I was struggling to believe that they’d miraculously find me a match, then I’d get whisked off to Paris to meet my Prince Charming.
That was the kind of stuff other people experienced.
Something like that could never happen to me though, right?