Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy(51)

Humph. Bloody Mr Wallaker. Anyway, what was he bloody well doing in the chemist at half past nine on a weekday morning? Shouldn’t he be at school organizing one of his military uprisings? He was probably buying condoms as well. Coloured condoms.

On the way home started to panic about leaving the kids with Daniel and called him up.

‘Jones, Jones, Jones, Jones, Jones. Whatever can you be suggesting? The darlings will be meticulously cared for, almost to the point of overindulgence. I shall take them,’ he said grandly, ‘to the cinema.’

‘What movie?’ I said nervously.

‘Zero Dark Thirty.’

‘WHAT?’

‘That was what we human people laughingly call “a joke”, Jones. I have tickets to Wreck-It Ralph. At least, I shall shortly have tickets to Wreck-It Ralph now that you have reminded me about the whole splendid occasion. And then I shall take them to a fine eating establishment, such as McDonald’s Restaurant, and then I shall read them children’s classics until they fall purringly to sleep. And if you send a hairbrush I shall use it to spank them if they misbehave. So anyway. Who ARE you shagging?’

Just then the text pinged: Roxster.

< Do you fancy seeing a movie tonight? How about Les Miserables?>

MOVIE?? I tailspinned. Doesn’t he KNOW I’m doing all this incredibly complicated hoop-jumping-through just so we can sleep together? Slips and bikini waxes and condoms and Daniel and thinking about packing?

Reminding self of Dating Rules, I took some calming breaths and texted back: <That sounds great. Is it a romantic comedy?>

<Are you thinking of Lay Mister Arbres – the famous Anglo-French erotic tree-hugging romp?>

And texting continued with an increasingly risqué tone.

5 p.m. Massive packing-up preparations for Daniel sleepover included Saliva, various bunnies, Horsio, Mario, Puffles One, Two and Three, Sylvanian bunnies, pyjamas, toothbrushes and toothpaste, crayons and colouring/puzzle books, full box of DVDs in case Daniel ran out of things to do, suitable books to avoid bedtime story from Penthouse Forum, emergency phone number list, full first-aid kit and manual, and, crucially, hairbrush.

Daniel turned up in a Mercedes with the top down. Had to fight urge to ask him to put the top up. Isn’t it, surely, unsafe to drive children round with the top down? What if a great big plank fell off the back of a lorry onto them? Or they went under a motorway bridge and someone dropped a block of concrete on them?

‘Shall we put the top up?’ Daniel said to Billy, reading my face as Billy protested, ‘Noooooo!’

‘Just . . . move these . . .’ Daniel said, smoothly picking up some magazines from the front seat, the top one bearing a large caption over a very odd photo saying LATIN LESBIAN CAR WASH!

‘Have to learn some time,’ he said cheerfully, climbing into the car and sitting Billy in the front seat. ‘OK, I’ll press the brake and you do the buttons.’

The children – anxious, freaking-out mother completely forgotten – squealed with excitement as the roof started closing. Until Mabel suddenly looked worried, and said, ‘Uncle Daniel. You’ve forgotten to thtrap uth in.’

Once I’d managed to persuade Daniel to put Billy in the back seat and they were all strapped in, I waved as the three of them zoomed off without a backward glance.

And then the house was empty. I cleared all the soft toys and plastic dinosaurs and embarrassing self-help books out of my bedroom, then started on de-childing the living room, but gave up as too monumental a task, and also am not going to sleep with him anyway. Then I ran a hot bath and put sweet-smelling potions in and music on, reminding self that the most important thing was to a) be in a calm yet sexual mood (which wasn’t a problem) and b) turn up in the right place at the right time.





SECOND DATE WITH TOY BOY


Friday 1 February 2013 (continued)

I have literally no idea what goes on in Les Misérables and really must watch it again sometime. I hear it’s terribly good. All I could think about was how horny I felt with Roxster’s knee so close to mine. His hand was on his left thigh, and I kept my hand on my right thigh so that it would only have been a matter of inches for his hand to touch mine. Was incredibly arousing, wondering if he was feeling as aroused as me, but not being quite certain. Suddenly, after quite a long time, Roxster reached across and casually put his hand on my right thigh, his thumb moving the silk of the navy-blue dress across my bare leg. It was a highly effective move, and not one which was, I thought, open to misinterpretation.

As people continued to throw themselves into weirs and die of bad haircuts to song on the big screen, I glanced across at Roxster. He was looking calmly at the screen, only a slight flicker in his eyes betraying the fact that anything but operatic-misery-watching was going on. Then he leaned across and whispered:

‘Shall we go?’

Once outside we started kissing frantically, then pulled ourselves together and decided we should at least go to a restaurant. The magic of Roxster was that, even in the din of a succession of insanely noisy Soho restaurants with no free tables, he was such fun to talk to. Eventually, after many drinks, and much talking and laughing, we ended up in the restaurant he had booked in the first place for after the movie.

During the meal, he took hold of my hand and slid his thumb between my fingers. I in turn wrapped my fingers around his thumb and stroked it up and down in a manner which just stopped on the right side of the line of being an advertisement for a handjob. Throughout, neither of us gave any hint in our conversation that we were anything other than the jolliest of chums. It was wildly sexy. Went to the loos as we left and called Talitha.