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I very much doubt snuggles were had, comes her response.
Snuggles were indeed had, and well you know it.
Well, thank you for walking Sir Lancelot.
You’re quite welcome. Still.
I chuck my bag and jacket on the desk, wondering if she’ll answer before I have to step into the fray. Fuck it. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, I’ll just have to guilt her into in.
As thanks, you can come and support me as I play rugby tomorrow morning.
Support you?Score one for Will purely for her response.Is that some kind of euphemism?Playful, her interest is officially piqued.
Be my cheer squad of one. There’s lunch in it for you afterwards, my treat.We’re usually ravenous. Exhausted and bruised to fuck, but definitely ravenous as we head to the pub.
I don’t know.Of course, you do, Sadie!
Come on! A slap-up Sunday roast with all the trimmings? I’ll even treat you to a pint of ale and a traditional British pudding so heavy it’ll weigh in your stomach like lead.
That’s not exactly tempting, she types back.
Sadie, I know for a fact, everyone likes a bit of spotted dick.
I repeat, that’s not exactly tempting.
I’m prepping my answer when Mary, one of the senior midwives, pops her head through the door.
‘Andie’s arrived,’ she says in her delightful Dublin accent, referring to the anaesthetist, the princess having opted for an epidural.
I nod my response, barely looking up from my phone. ‘How is our illustrious patient?’
Mary steps in through the door, pulling it closed behind her. ‘Like she should be doused in feckin’ Vagisil.’
As I look up, she’s frowning.
‘What do you mean?’
Mary’s hand is already on the handle, and she’s halfway out the door as she answers.
‘Because she’s an irritating twat.’
I chuckle because she isn’t far off the mark. Her Royal Highness is more a verydemandingtwat.
Sport and a roast dinner are British institutions, I type out, returning to Sadie and my plans.If you refuse my invitation, I’m afraid I may be forced to contact immigration re: your refusal to assimilate. Please don’t make me.
Also, you’ll get to meet my friends, I finish with.
On the strength of that alone, count me in, comes her response.Because I think they’ll turn out to be imaginary.
It looks like I’m in for a cracking Sunday. A bit of rough on the field in the morning, followed by a lot of tumble in the sheets for the rest of the day.
I should thank Julian for being such a useless bastard, I think, as I slot my phone away. Without him, my plans wouldn’t be nearly as sweet. Which happens to be exactly what Sadie is.
I slam my desk drawer shut and adjust the slight chub I’m sporting at the thoughts of her.
Flushed chest, her nipples erect, those dilated pupils stealing the green of her eyes. Her dress tangled, like her hand in my hair. Her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she rode my face.
From semi to fully hard in a few thoughts.
