by Anna Bell
‘But, um,’ he says a little nervously. ‘It’s one of the more… exotic rooms. Will that be OK?’
‘Is there a double bed in it?’
‘Yes, yes,’ he says quickly.
‘Then it’ll be fine. Exotic sounds good,’ I say, thinking that he means a few shrubs.
I relinquish my grip on our passports and he photocopies them before handing them back along with our credit card and keys.
‘Enjoy your stay,’ he says with smile and we turn towards the lift.
‘You see, you just need to be firm with people,’ I say to Max as I stride across feeling about ten feet tall.
‘You know you were pretty scary back there. Should I be worried?’
I laugh.
‘No, the bitch rage is all baby hormones. I think I’ll lose that somewhere in the first year after the baby’s born. Or at least I did with Sasha.’
‘Shit, that’s a long time. I’ll have to make sure I’m on my best behaviour.’
‘Yeah, you will,’ I say all cocky. We squeeze into the lift and head up to our floor.
We quickly find our room, and when I open the door my hand flies up to my mouth.
‘Bloody hell,’ says Max as we shuffle in. ‘It’s um, very red, isn’t it?’
‘Uh-huh.’ It’s about the only thing I can manage to say. He’s right. From the beams latticing the ceiling to the velvet-textured wallpaper to the thick satin bedspread – everything is red. The only thing that isn’t red is the painting hanging on the wall of a nude couple. Just in case you couldn’t pick up on the not-so-subtle vibes the rest of the room was trying to give out.
I feel like we’ve walked into a seedy strip club and I’m just waiting for someone to spring out to give us a private dance.
‘Well, at least it’s got the double bed that you wanted,’ says Max.
It’s like a neon sign in the middle of the room taunting me; the concierge and everyone else in the lobby knows why I wanted it. But we’re not quite at the stage of the perfume ad where they’re ripping each other’s clothes off just yet.
‘Holy shit,’ says Max, walking forward, ‘look at that view!’
He steps forward and opens the door of the Juliet balcony.
I stand and look over his shoulder at the square in front of us and I catch myself gasping.
Max puts an arm around me and suddenly the red room and the bed don’t seem so scary.
‘This is beautiful,’ I say to him.
‘Yes, it is. At least when the red gets a bit much, we can look out here.’
‘We certainly can.’
We stand there, admiring the city, before the chilly breeze whips around us and we step back and close the doors.
‘Are you tired?’ says Max and he looks at the bed that’s become the elephant in the room.
‘No, shall we go and explore?’
I peer over at the bathroom that is sectioned off by a small wall, which you can look over. Of course you can. The bath is visible from the bed and there’s no shower. Which means one way or another Max is going to have to see me naked because there’s no way I’ll be climbing in and out of a roll-top bath with this bump. I’d be terrified of slipping.
‘Yes, let’s explore,’ he says. ‘It’s a good job we’re not drinking this weekend; this place with a hangover would be really shocking.’
‘Yeah, wouldn’t it? You’d wake up wondering if you’d passed out in a sleazy club.’
‘I know those chairs are made for some kind of lap dance.’
‘I’m sure I could give you one,’ I say. ‘Could you imagine? Instead of poking my boobs in your face you’d have my big belly.’
‘That doesn’t sound so bad,’ he says with a chuckle and looking slightly tempted by the offer. I can’t help but feel chuffed that things could be heading in the right direction after all.
‘Let’s get going with the exploring, shall we?’ I spot my guidebook poking out of my handbag and go and retrieve it.
Max takes it from my hand and throws it on the bed.
‘Let’s just have a day that isn’t planned. We’ve got two full days starting from tomorrow to see the sights.’
It’s exactly what normal Max would always say.
‘OK, then, lead on,’ I say, holding my hand out for him to go first.
I give one last look at the double bed that I fought so hard for and I wonder when it’s going to feel like the right time to use it in the way I’d intended.
You don’t really have to go far in Paris to fall in love with it. We spend the afternoon mooching about the Latin Quarter, doing our best to dodge the crowds. We wander through cobbled streets, admiring university buildings and old churches, drifting in and out of tiny parks, past fountains and statues. All are marvels in their own right, but you almost become blasé seeing them all together.
The romance is truly infectious and we hold hands, catching each other’s eye as we walk along and snuggle on benches. It’s nice just being us, experiencing something together in the present, carving out new memories, rather than being so focused on the past.
Max and I stop to have a coffee at one of the many cafés and we can’t resist having a bowl of ice cream too to tide us over until dinner.
I automatically slide over my bowl with the last spoonful of chocolate ice cream at the bottom.
‘Oh, have you had enough?’ says Max, not knowing what to do with it.
‘Yes,’ I say, thinking that it’s time to put the memories of the past behind us. I’m not going to dwell on the fact he doesn’t eat it like it’s the last Rolo; I’m going to concentrate on making new traditions.
‘Are you ready to go?’ asks Max, after he pays the waiter.
‘Yes, let’s do it,’ I say.
‘You look tired, did you want to go back to the room and have a nap before dinner?’
I could close my eyes and go to sleep here.
‘I don’t have a very good track record with naps,’ I laugh. ‘If you get me into bed, you might never get me out of it.’
Max looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
‘Would that be such a bad thing? Especially when you went to such great lengths to get us it?’
‘Oh, jeez, the porn room, I’ve been trying to forget about that mortifying experience.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ he says, trying not to laugh. ‘It’s a nice room.’
‘Yeah, if we kept all the lights down low.’
We start giggling and can’t stop. I don’t know if it’s entirely related to the hideous room decor or more about the embarrassment from both knowing what this trip’s building up to.
‘So, shall we head back?’ says Max. ‘I might have a bath before we go for dinner.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I say, thinking of him in the open-plan room bathing naked. I tug at the collar of my wool dress. Is it just me or is it getting hot?
Max takes me by the hand, pulling me up, and doesn’t let go as we walk off.
We head along the banks of the Seine towards our hotel. Just when I didn’t think Paris could be any more beautiful, the sky explodes into a pink dusk. The streetlights are pinging on and the lights of the city are flickering on all over the place.
‘This place is so beautiful,’ I say.
‘I know, it’s funny, I always thought the whole Paris being romantic was so clichéd but I get it now that I’m here. It’s not what I expected at all.’
‘Just wait until we get to the Eiffel Tower tomorrow.’
‘We don’t have to do all that, you know. I can take your word for it that we’ve done it before. I’m just enjoying this. Walking and talking. I think at this point I’d rather get to know you than a city.’
We walk past a couple who are taking PDA to a whole other level.
‘Blimey,’ I say, shielding the view with my hand. ‘Did you see where his hand was?’
‘Maybe he was trying to keep her bum warm. I bet she’s cold.’
‘Well, maybe if she had bigger knickers on,’ I
say, thinking of the extra-large ones I’m wearing.
Max laughs heartily.
‘That was a nil point kiss,’ I say.
‘What does that mean?’ he says.
So much for me not explaining our little traditions.
‘We often rate kisses out of ten – you know, when we’re watching movies, or when you’re trying to initiate some bedroom action – you try and give me a seven-plus kiss.’
‘Right,’ he nods. ‘Huh, I thought it was a good one; there was certainly lots of passion.’
‘It was too much of a public display of affection for my liking.’
‘You’re a harsh judge. You know there are an awful lot of couples about, aren’t there?’ he says, looking round. ‘It’s like they’ve all seemed to come out now it’s getting dark.’
‘Like vampires,’ I say.
‘Well, he’s certainly doing a good job of trying to suck her blood,’ says Max, pointing at a man nibbling his partner’s neck. ‘How many points does that get?’
‘Three maybe,’ I say. ‘It’s semi romantic.’
We walk along a bit more, and it isn’t long before we see another kissing couple.
‘Now that kiss is very lacklustre. That’s got to be a low scorer,’ says Max.
‘But look, he’s cupping her face. It’s a bit Ryan Gosling.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’
‘Oh, absolutely. Five points for that.’
‘But he looks like he’s trying to squeeze the life out of her. It’s a nil pointer from me.’
‘Brutal.’
‘But I guess you have to be, though, don’t you? It’s not like every kiss could be a ten out of ten,’ he says.
‘Exactly. So, what do you think would make a ten?’
‘Hmm, I don’t know.’ We walk a bit further, hand in hand, whilst he thinks about it. ‘I guess, first of all, it’s all about the build-up. You know, the moment where you get the other’s attention, it’s got to take them a little unaware.’
‘Oh, like they have to have them in that exact second.’
‘Exactly, it’s got to have that urgency about it. And it’s got to have that bam moment where that spark hits – you know, when it shakes your entire body.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I nod.
‘And then there’d be the hand creep. It definitely doesn’t cup the face, maybe it starts off at the back of the neck and slides gently down the spine before it strokes the small of the back and then maybe down to the bum, but not under the clothes like our friend back there, not at this point.’
‘And then what happens?’ We’re walking so slowly that we’ve practically stopped and I’m edging closer to him.
‘And then for it to be a real ten kiss there’s got to be that act of passion. You know, the woman jumps her legs round his waist and he holds her close. Or maybe one of them pushes the other against a wall.’
‘And that’s a ten?’ I say weakly. In all our years of playing this game, we’ve never articulated what a perfect kiss would be and I’ve got goosebumps.
‘No, that’s a nine; to make it a ten it has to have the breathy bit.’
‘The breathy bit?’
‘Uh-huh. The bit where you pull away for a second and you’re breathing so close to one another that you don’t know whose breath is whose. And that, Ellie Voss, is a perfect te—’
Max doesn’t get to finish his sentence as I stop and pull him round to face me before I launch into a kiss.
He’s taken aback for a split second – but only a split second – then he kisses me like he’s never kissed me before. I feel his hands reach under my open coat and they find their way to my back and I reach mine up to his shoulders and start stroking the nape of his neck before I pull him even closer towards me. I find myself bending back into the balustrade and he presses up against the big bump. I’m vaguely aware that there are other people milling about and I pull out of the kiss and open my eyes to find he’s staring hard into mine and we’re nose to nose and breathing deeply.
‘Now I get the breathy bit,’ I say, trying to get my breath back.
‘Yeah,’ he says doing the same.
‘You’re right – that kind of kiss is a high scorer. But it wasn’t quite a perfect ten for me.’
His eyebrows narrow. ‘It wasn’t?’
‘No, I think that we perhaps had too many clothes on.’
‘Oh right?’ he says, and he looks at me like he’s going to tear my clothes off right here, right now. A small smile spreads over his face. ‘And seeing as we know that you get marks deducted for flashing in public, I take it the only way around that would be to get to the hotel as quick as we can.’
‘I think that’s the wisest course of action,’ I say, dragging him by the hand and hurrying down the side street.
It doesn’t take us long to reach our hotel and the receptionist behind the front desk chuckles when we practically run through the lobby.
We squeeze into the tiny lift and Max pulls the concertina’d iron door across. All I want to do is kiss him but we can barely fit the two of us in as it is. It eventually pings to announce our floor and Max prises the door open and we hurry along to our boudoir.
The door’s barely shut before I’m shrugging off my coat and he’s unbuttoning his then he starts kissing me and tugging at my dress at the same time, only separating as he pulls it over my head, and I rip his jumper over his. His T-shirt comes next and I fight with his belt to unbuckle his trousers and they fall to the floor.
‘I’m going to need some help with my tights and shoes,’ I say, breaking away with an embarrassed laugh. I’ve got way too much of the pregnancy horn to feel self-conscious that my giant boobs are housed in the nursing bra that’s probably the least sexy underwear I own, or the stretch marks spreading over my skin. Max doesn’t look like he cares either. He’s as hungry for this as I am.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he says, catching his breath.
I blink back a tear and my heart starts to pound.
He gently guides me down onto the edge of the bed before he bends down and slips my feet out of my boots. He then reaches up and tugs at the waist band of my tights and slides them gently down my legs, before he runs his hands all the way down the inside of my leg causing me to shiver. His hands linger at my giant knickers and then he slips them off too. I have no idea what he’s seeing as I haven’t seen down there for so long thanks to the giant bump.
He pulls me up to standing and I pull down his boxers and he reaches over and unclasps my bra.
I can’t remember the last time that we had sex that wasn’t just a quick fumble late at night on a rare occasion when neither of us wasn’t knackered from work or looking after Sasha. This is so slow and deliberate that the whole of my body is aroused and I almost feel like it’s our first time; it’s certainly the first time that we’ve slowed right down and that I’m taking in every single second of it.
He tucks a loose bit of hair behind my ear and I reach up and hold my hand on his and we’re doing the nose-to-nose breathing thing again and the anticipation is driving me insane. Just when I think I can’t take it any longer, he surges forward and kisses me.
And this time there’s no doubt in my mind it’s the perfect ten. The kiss that would put all other kisses to shame.
‘Fucking hell,’ says Max, lying back against his pillow. ‘Is it always like that?’
‘No, most of the time we’re knackered and don’t even bother taking our socks off.’
He exhales loudly again and holds his hands up to his head as he lies flat on his back. I roll towards him and prop myself up.
‘You know, you’re not finished with your duties just yet,’ I say.
‘What, you want to do it again…? Ellie, I don’t think I can just yet.’
‘No, I’m talking about you – I’m talking about me and you know… finishing me off.’
‘Finishing you off?’ he says, brow furrowing.
‘Yeah, you know.’ I wiggle my fingers.
He rolls over and props himself to mirror my position; he looks dumbfounded.
‘Did you not—’
‘No.’
‘Huh. I thought you—’
‘No,’ I say with a smile and a shake of the head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing, but, you know, sometimes you have to do a little work after.’
‘Right…’ He’s looking perplexed. I have a vague memory of a similar conversation with him years ago, only then it was through a fog of tequila. ‘You know, I’m usually pretty good at this and I haven’t ever really had any complaints. And I would have thought I’d have known if I was doing it wrong.’
‘Believe me, you weren’t doing anything wrong at all. But you might have a left a few ladies frustrated in your wake.’
‘Huh,’ he says, and I lean over and kiss him.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘No,’ he says, pulling back. ‘You absolutely should. Do I normally just crack on and do this automatically?’
‘Uh-huh, I don’t have to ask; I can just lie back and off you go,’ I say, lying heavily. I usually have to elbow him in the ribs to remind him.
‘Right, then,’ he says again. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m very good at this too.’
‘I know, Max Voss, get on with it, please.’
‘OK, but I’m going to have position myself down there so I can see what I’m doing – and with the bump you won’t be able to see me.’
‘Believe me, I don’t need to see you.’
‘But my face is my best bit,’ he says, looking up at me.
‘I’d argue right now that your fingers are the best bit.’
‘Oh, really? Right, well… I was just going to go for it straight away but if you’re going to be like that…’ he says, tracing his fingers along my thighs, ‘I might just have to take my time.’
He rolls me onto my back and I collapse into giggles and longing. I can’t remember when Max and I were last like this. It’s made me realise that we don’t have to follow the same roadmap to falling in love that we followed last time – it feels like this will lead us to the same place in the end.
Chapter 19
The rest of our trip to Paris passed in a blur of perfect-ten kisses, more sex than is probably advisable for an almost eight-months-pregnant woman, meandering strolls through picture-perfect streets and eating my new body weight in delicious meals. We might not have done any of the big sights but I think we did what really mattered, which is find our way back to each other. I know that sounds cheesy as hell, but after the last month I don’t care.
