by C. B. Martin
The next day, we headed to the West End of London, armed and dangerous with my credit card. For two hours we went from shop to shop, hunting down the perfect outfit. I liked almost everything, but James insisted I needed to make a huge impact of looking sexy and ‘fierce’. We both agreed on one thing though: there was no room for error. Nothing other than complete perfection was acceptable.
James had been pitching ‘fur coat no knickers’ from pretty much the moment we’d first met at the train station. I resisted for a long time, but eventually, fuelled by Dutch courage (thanks to a liquid lunch), I agreed to meet him half way. I would get a new faux fur coat, but there would have to be underwear underneath, very sexy underwear. So, after we left the noisy Italian restaurant, which was tucked away in the corner of Shepherds Market, we set off with renewed vigor. The next stop was Agent Provocateur for some saucy pieces.
‘It’s got to be all black,’ ordered James as we wove our way down Brewer Street. Then, after pausing to wink at a couple of pretty young men who caught his eye, he added;
‘Apart from the diamond earrings and the soles on your Christian Louboutins, of course.’
The shop in Broadwick Street was buzzing with pretty young things. James and I did our best to look like we shopped there all the time and picked out some lace hold-ups, with a forties-style black line running up the back. Then, we added a pair of hipster French knickers and a matching bra that would give you the type of cleavage you could park a bike in.
‘Right! Next stop: Harvey Nicks!’ declared James, while the assistant wrapped my precious lingerie. ‘Let’s grab a cab.’
‘James, I’m not a bank.’ I protested weakly.
‘Oh come on! This is Travis, the man you thought you’d lost only a few days ago. We’ve already agreed every detail has to be none other than perfect.’
He’s right, I thought to myself. And Travis is my Mr. Right. I have to invest in my future and the future of my (hopefully-soon-to-be conceived) children. Mentally I prepared myself to give my plastic another bashing and followed James out of the door and into the back of a taxi. James confidently told the driver where we wanted to go and proceeded to flirt with the poor man all the way to Knightsbridge.
As soon as we got to Harvey Nichols, James instantly forgot about the driver and headed purposefully towards the store. Once inside he went straight for the furs.
‘You know I don’t do real fur!’ I said, looking around me desperately in case an animal lib fanatic spotted me.
‘But it’s already dead!’ James exclaimed, with a puzzled face as he smoothed down a coat. ‘It’s not going to mind. Besides, someone has gone to the trouble of skinning all these fluffy animals. We can’t let them go to waste.’
Shamefully, despite my reluctance, one coat did catch my eye. It was a long, black, luxurious D&G mink. Carefully avoiding looking at the price tag, I gingerly put it on. With a theatrical gasp, James collapsed into the chair behind him.
‘Tara, it’s got your name written all over it! It was made for you,’ he said, fanning his face as though to prevent a full swoon. ‘That’s definitely the one. You have to get it!’
‘Come and look at the price tag for me, I daren’t,’ I said, feeling a pang of guilt as I stroked the gorgeous mink. It felt so dreamily soft to the touch, falling in smooth sleek lines as I ran my fingers through it as if I was stroking a Persian cat.
‘Fate has stepped in - it’s in the sale!’ he whooped. ‘It’s only £3,000. What a bargain! That’s a sign for sure!’
Gulping hard, I began a fierce mental argument with myself. Can I justify this? Of course I bloody can’t! But it fits so perfectly, I thought, as I swirled around, hugging the fur and standing on my tiptoes for added effect. I imagined Travis looking at me in my black, raunchy, luxurious fur. I savoured the mental image of that beautiful mouth curling into an appreciative grin. Game over. I peered over my shoulder to take one last glance at myself in the mirror. I had to have it.
I winced at James as I handed over my credit card to the smiling shop assistant.
‘Isn’t it just fan-fucking-tastic?’ James cooed, clapping his hands in glee.
‘I love it,’ I breathed, ‘can’t you tell?’
‘Well, not really, you‘ve paralysed your face in that, sort of, vacant look,’ said James, with his usual teasing pout. ‘Perhaps you should’ve waited for those first two vials of Botox to kick in before having the other three vials injected?’
‘Oi, you!’ I replied, giving James a friendly shove. ‘Well, I’m pleased to hear it’s worked. Not that you are a discerning enough judge to tell.’ I added, as we both fell about laughing.
‘Right – shoes,’ instructed James with a snap of his fingers, oblivious to the looks the sales assistant was giving us as he rapidly wrapped the fur. ‘Let’s stop buggering about - pun - definitely intended - and get on with what we’re here for.’
‘James, that’s enough,’ I said, still chuckling as I accepted the enormous Harvey Nichols bag from the stony-faced assistant. ‘I have a beautiful pair of Louboutins at home. No more spending. I will be living on beans on toast for a year.’
‘Come with me,’ said James, who was clearly not going to take ‘no’ for an answer today. ‘You only have the five-inch heel. We are going to get you the full six-inches because, as we both know from experience, anything less than six inches really doesn’t register, sweetheart. And anyway, there’s nothing quite like the unspoiled sole of a Louboutin.’
‘But, oh my God, I could have bought a car with the money I just spent on that coat,’ I groaned, beginning to panic.
‘Shoes, Tara. Come along. This way. First floor…’
James linked his arm tightly around mine and marched me over to the escalator. Just as we reached them, I heard a text come through and eagerly fumbled for my phone in my bag.
[Text from Travis]
Just booked us a room @ The Sanderson. Only the best for you, can’t wait to see you Xxxxx
‘James, look at this!’ I screamed, ecstatically jumping up and down like a crazed schoolgirl, waving the phone in his face.
‘Bring on the Louboutins!’ I shouted in a frenzy.
‘And there they are, Tara… your new shoes,’ announced James; pointing theatrically the second we reached the shoe section. Jesus, that guy can spot a pair of decent shoes from 10 miles away, I thought.
‘Oh my God,’ I gasped, once I’d clocked them. ‘They’re not shoes - they’re stilts! There’s no way I could stand in those - let alone walk in them. I’ll break my neck.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ James said, looking utterly bemused. ‘Of course you can! Let me show you how it’s done.’
I sat down and watched on with embarrassed fascination as James did his Cinderella act, squeezing his perfectly pedicured (but wide) foot into this slender, four-sizes-too-small stiletto. I looked on in disbelief, as he then proceeded to strut provocatively around the shoe display with ease and grace.
You had to hand it to him. If a man can walk like that in a six-inch pair of heels, then so could I (even if I did have to be lifted and lowered into them). They were beautiful stilettos too, clad in black silk, complete with matching bow cascading from the top of the heel almost to the floor. They were extremely raunchy, yet classically elegant. Sure, they were practically identical to the ones I already had at home, but still… in for a penny, in for a pound. While the cashier delicately wrapped the shoes up, ready for purchase, I tapped out a reply text to Travis. After showing it to James, we both grinned as I pressed the send button.
[Text to Travis]
How does fur coat, 6 inch heels & lacy knickers grab you? Xxx
I have never recalled feeling such a rush as I did when I sent that text and then keyed in my PIN code. It was albeit short-lived, once I began totting up all the spending in my head. By the time I picked up my perfectly-gift-wrapped shoes from the counter, I had more than a twang of inevitable guilt. Bang goes the new sun-bed I was saving up for in the Salon
.
In an attempt not to spend any more money, I made a desperate plea to drag James out of Harvey Nichols. But as we headed for the door, I spotted my last, potentially fatal purchase.
‘Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at that handbag!’ said James, raising his eyebrows in glee.
‘No… I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t,’ I protested, more weakly than ever. ‘I probably couldn’t anyhow. I think the credit card is already maxed.’
‘Well, let’s go and find out,’ said James, propelling me closer to the handbag section.
I picked up the black fur Versace handbag that I’d spotted in passing and, right on cue, another text from Travis came through.
[Text from Travis]
The thought of you in fur coat & lacy knickers has made me rock hard! Xxxxxx
‘Okay - he obviously likes fur,’ I said, showing James the text. ‘Let’s do it. I’m going to try and buy this handbag - and if I can’t pay on my credit card, it’s clearly not meant to be.’
I held my breath as I handed my card over. Amazingly, the purchase went through. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but by now it was too late. With my bank account nearly £5,000 lighter, we left Harvey Nichols with just two shopping bags.
‘I’m glad we went with fur coat and naughty knickers, as there’s no way I would have been able to afford a dress as well,’ I giggled, as we dived down into the tube station to begin the journey home.
After a sleepless night, I raced to my Salon where I decided to have the works done. To begin with, I pleaded and pleaded with Jackie to give me yet another Hollywood to remove what little fluff there was (although I had to stoically block my ears to her sternly delivered advice against it).
‘I don’t care if it looks like a plucked chicken, as long as it’s smooth,’ I said, stubbornly. ‘Vajazel it after to cover the sins.’
Next, Jayde did my hair, while James fixed diamantes to my long, glossy, black acrylic nails and matching pedicured feet. This was followed by a session with Jackie and James jointly applying my makeup. Everyone agreed that smoky eyes suited me the best, I had silk false lashes fixed on to finish off that sultry look I desired.
Frankly, I’d have gone through anything to look my best. Travis and I were only to be together for such a short space of time and I really wanted to make that huge impact James was so insistent on. I already knew that with my outfit (or lack of) I was well on my way to doing so. Therefore, I had to make sure the rest of me was up to scratch. I wanted him to walk out of the arrival gates of the airport and think proudly: ‘She is mine.’ To achieve that sort of ‘wow’ factor, I needed every millimeter of my body to exude sex appeal.
After a couple of hours being poked, prodded and tweaked into shape, I left the Salon. Draped in all my brand new finery, I began my journey to the airport to pick up Travis. Internally I was squealing with frenzied wild thoughts, but knew I must stay calm, because calm equals sexy. That’s not easy when you feel like there are a million gymnasts somersaulting in your tummy all at once. The next time I get back in this car, OMG… I will have probably had the best sex in my entire life, with – OMG - the best looking ride, ever. I had to pinch myself.
… And Breathe.
I must not talk incessantly.
And breathe…
I must not try too hard.
And breathe…
I wonder how big his cock is?
And breathe…
His flight was due to land at Heathrow at 8pm. Sadly, we wouldn’t have long. He had to fly back at 8am. the next morning for an important game.
Not long after I set off, with my music blaring on the car radio to give me a bit of a gee-up, my mobile rang. I ignored it. I could tell from the ring tone it was Laura. She then rang again. With a sigh, I turned down the radio, switched my phone onto speaker mode and answered it, ‘Tara have you left yet?’ asked Laura.
‘Yes,’ I said, still a bit peed off that she had interrupted my singing along to Michael Bublé. ‘I’m on my way now.’
‘Have you seen or heard the news at all?’ Laura enquired.
‘No. Why? What’s wrong?’ I gasped.
‘Most flights in and out of Ireland have been cancelled,’ she said flatly.
The news hit me like a bullet.
‘WHAT? No! Why?’ I stammered.
‘There’s thick, thick fog everywhere and a plane had to do an emergency landing at Dublin,’ she said. ‘You know what it’s like, the news is pretty sketchy right now.’
‘I don’t feckin’ believe it.’ I said quietly after a long pause.
‘I suggest you ring Travis and find out whether his flight is going ahead or not.’ Laura suggested gently.
‘Shit. Okay… well thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep you updated.’
I pulled in at the next service station and nervously rang Travis.
‘Well Dublin airport seems normal babe,’ he calmly stated, in his slow, sexy, gravelly voice. ‘Hold the line gorgeous, I’ll just go over to the information desk.’
I could just make out what he was saying in his delicious accent;
‘I’ve got the love of my life on her way to Heathrow - I need to know if my flight is going ahead.’
I couldn’t quite focus on the reply he was given because, quite frankly, I was dazed by what he had just said about me being the love of his life. I was overcome with a warm, fuzzy feeling.
‘Okay babe,’ he said, coming back to me, ‘there could possibly be some delays, but the flight is going ahead.’
‘Thank God for that!’ I answered, relieved, completely forgetting to even attempt to play it cool. ‘I can’t believe that in just a few hours we will be together.’
‘I just want to hold you so tight,’ he replied. ‘See you very soon, babe.’
All mashed up with love, I started the car and continued my journey to Heathrow airport. Once I navigated around the heinous one-way system, I parked up in the short stay zone. I really didn’t want to have to walk very far in these stilts. Flipping down the mirror, I checked my makeup, but I couldn’t even focus on that. I just wanted to look out into the dark, cold, starry sky and wonder what our night would bring. Nervous anticipation about making love with Travis filled my mind. I giggled to myself as I got butterflies in my stomach. I had tingling sensations all over me. It would be strange yet, so exciting. Just the thought of touching him, stroking him, smelling him, taking him all in made my lady-garden moist. Very moist indeed. I would have to try and resist launching myself at him. All I wanted to do was rip his clothes off. I had never experienced a lusty feeling like this ever, ever, ever.
My raunchy thoughts were brought to a grinding halt when I received another text from Travis.
[Text from Travis]
Babe, I haven’t boarded yet, there has been another delay, but should be boarding in 5 mins xx
I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I felt really peed off. I returned a text with a simple:
Okay x
The flight would only take around an hour so, having some time to kill, I stayed in the car. I applied more lip-gloss, put some music on and chain-smoked a few cigarettes. Soon though, I started to feel cold, very cold. Nice one Tara. Only I could come out in January with just a fur coat and skimpy knickers on.
[Text from Travis]
Babe the flight has been delayed again! This time by 2 hours!! What do you want me to do? Xxxx
A poxy phone call would be nice, I thought, completely pissed off by now. I punched the direct dial number in my phone to call him. This time I was not quite so happy.
‘I do wish that you would call me instead of texting all the time,’ I began, trying to control my tone the best I could. I was just so desperate about the way things were going.
‘Sorry babe, it’s just so noisy here with announcements and so on,’ Travis said, sounding as damn calm and lovely as ever. ‘Do you think someone is trying to tell us something?’
‘Maybe,’ I answered, still a little
sulky.
‘Babe, I hate the thought of you waiting around all this time. Are you okay? Why don’t you get yourself to the hotel and I’ll get a taxi over to you when I land.’
And that was it, his voice and concern melted me. I was so ready for this, to be part of a couple, to have a man. My Mr. Right, worrying about me for a change, making sure that I’m safe was like music to my ears.
‘I’ll go into the airport for a coffee and wait for you, as I’d rather we arrive at the hotel together,’ I said, once again bright and happy.
‘Okay, gorgeous, if you’re sure. I will let you know the minute I board.’
‘Well, with such little time left, we won’t be getting much sleep,’ I added with a suggestive giggle.
We both laughed and that ended the conversation. Go to the hotel? There was no way. I had been dreaming about this perfect meeting of Travis and I for days and days. I’d mapped out every second in my head again and again. I had even watched ‘Love Actually’ several times so I could make sure our airport meeting went just like it did in the film.
Travis and I were two souls destined to be together and a delayed flight was NOT going to ruin that for me. With a face full of determination, I climbed out of the car, locked it and strode purposefully towards the main terminal building.
The second I walked into the Arrivals hall, my resolve vanished. Standing in my beautiful fur coat and stripper heels, I stood out a mile in the crowd of backpackers and tourists. I immediately felt so over-dressed as I awkwardly maneuvered myself deeper into the arrivals lounge. It didn’t help that there were bodies lolling around everywhere. There were even people sleeping on the floor. It was surreal, like something out of a disaster movie. I had descended into absolute chaos. The fog delays must be a lot worse than we thought.
Precariously I made my way over to Starbucks, stepping gingerly around the prone figures. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. It was as if the airport was hosting the whole of England. Doing my best balancing act in my shoes, I eventually carved a path through the crowds to find there was no coffee, no seats… no anything.
