One Night and One Morning - Part 3

“Ok, just here on the left please” she says. I look out of the rain strewn window to see that the cab driver has pulled up outside what looks like an old office block. I look up at grey facade ‘Hmm, interesting’. Two minutes later however, and we are in the hallway of a clean modern flat, and one that confirms to me that we made the right decision of whose place we ended up at this evening.

I’m in need of water after the adventure at the rear of the mini cab and I head to the kitchen and fill a glass by the sink as she pops to the bathroom. I can’t remember a time when I wanted a drink of water as much as I do now. I down it in one go and refill the glass to take another gulp, just as she appears behind me. She takes it from my hand and enjoys two big gulps herself before placing it firmly on the marble kitchen counter, spilling some as she does. With her other hand she cups the back of my head and kisses me hard on the mouth. “Come on” she says, as she leads me out of the kitchen and across the short hallway to the bedroom, flicking off the lights as we go.

The next morning I wake up to what feels like a horse stomping on my head. I am alone in a very comfortable but strange bed in a seemingly strange flat and I wonder where I am. There is movement from somewhere and I hear voices as I recount the events of last night and realise that she is talking to the postman. The front door closes and her feet pad along the wooden floor of the hallway that leads back to the bedroom. I smile inwardly and wait for her to come back to bed. I’m struck by a desire to adopt a cool nonchalance in how I look when she walks in. Should I close my eyes and feign sleep.. No stay awake and smile as she comes in.. No, lie on your side and be half awake. The door opens as I am half way between the latter two as I stretch and open my eyes with a sleepy ”Moorninggg...”

She is fully clothed. “Right” she says “I forgot that I’m meeting a friend and have to leave in 10 minutes”. “Ah, hmm, right, ok” I say, not sure of how to react, as I scratch my head and climb out of bed to wonder where I put my clothes. “Nice place” I muse, pulling on a sock. “Thanks” she says as she rushes about from room to room getting ready. I’m bleary eyed as I wipe away the fug. This feels weird.

We walk to the station and minutes later we’re on a train into London and we’re silent. The previous evening’s activities are not mentioned as we occasionally pass comment on the scenery flying past the train carriage window. Sitting opposite us is a brassy looking older woman in a leopard skin coat who looks like she may once have come third in a Bet Lynch lookalike contest. She has her arms folded as she looks at us. Any notion of talking about last night is off the agenda and I wonder if it was ever going to be there to begin with. I want to talk about it though as it feels odd not to. I’m wondering about a repeat performance under conditions of sobriety. I’m also wondering if the revelatory nature of last night’s conversations and the ensuing passion has potentially uncovered the first buds of something that could bloom into a new and beautiful relationship – or was it just a fuck?

The hard looking face on Bet Lynch seems to be staring at me as if to say “Go on, ask her I dare you.” ’Well why don’t you fuck off and sit somewhere else and I maybe I will’ I think. But she doesn’t and so I don’t and soon we are arriving at our destination. We walk through the train station to the point at which we are both due to go our own separate ways – the tube escalator for me and the station exit for her. ‘Do it now, talk to her’ I think as we get to the point of goodbye. I part my lips as my brain scrambles for the right words... “Ok, bye then.” she says, “Say hi to G for me when you next see her”.

My question answered – it was just a fuck.