Star Fish (5 page)

– Eight –

Pisces:
Destinies will merge today. Intense aspects will bring your feelings right up to the surface. Swim to the top and enjoy!

Undeterred by the effluent Mr Smith-Bourchier, another date was arranged.

‘Laurence Smith bloody Bourchier!’ I exclaimed to Brad after the debacle.

‘I’m never being enticed by status and money again. I’d rather plain old Larry Smith picked me up in a rundown banger and took me to a burger van than have to suffer that sort of thing again!’

Christopher was really sympathetic that the date had been such a disaster and laughingly promised that he would not subject me to anymore stuttering monkeys. A date with a Mr Declan O’Shea was arranged for the following week.

Friday night, 7 p.m. Tonight I was wearing a black knee-length skirt, a low-cut turquoise top and the infamous kitten heels. I felt a bit overdressed as I sat in the hotel lobby alone. I had questioned Christopher about why I was to meet a strange man in an airport hotel lobby, but he explained that Declan was a very busy man. He was flying back from Dublin that night and wanted to make the most of his time with me. This in itself sounded slightly ominous but in for a penny, in for a pound!

I was also swayed by the fact that Declan was indeed a looker. Compared to gangly Steve, thin-lipped Neil and ghastly Monkey Man, he was all my favourite male pin-ups rolled into one. If Declan was even half as good-looking as his photo then I was on to a winner here. I had actually forgotten to bring his photo with me, but was so hoping that Declan was going to be ‘Mr Right’ that I had his smile imprinted on my brain.

Nervously I sat down in the bar area and ordered a gin and tonic. Surely dating agency bods didn’t stand each other up. Weren’t they all so desperate to find a mate that no opportunity, however small, must be missed?

Just then an assortment of people started walking into the bar. There were a few smart couples in black tie. There was one, particularly ‘beautiful’ couple, hand luggage in tow and I imagined that they were flying off for a long weekend to somewhere exotic.

In true Piscean fashion I started to daydream of being whisked away somewhere wonderful. Another fifteen minutes passed by and no Declan. I decided that I would have another drink and then, if he hadn’t turned up when I‘d finished that, I would leave.

I was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed sitting in the hotel lobby alone, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Oh my God, what if people thought I was a prostitute?

‘Large rum and Coke please.’ I mouthed to the waiter. Why did the word ‘large’ always come out when I was nervous?

Bloody Geminis, never reliable, I thought to myself.

James Crook was a Gemini as well. I should have left ‘the twins’ out of the equation, simply on the strength of my ex-boyfriend’s unreliability. However, I realised that I couldn’t tar everyone with the same brush, as that would ruin my chance with a whole twelfth of the zodiac signs – and I was sure this would equate to millions of prospective husbands.

I always had a terrible inability to stick to the same alcoholic beverage. Anna said it was because I had a ‘butterfly mind’ and that was why I flitted here, there and everywhere without settling on anything or anyone. I always tried so hard to be consistent, but being consistent at being inconsistent was another forte of mine!

Why, oh, why, did I carry on mixing my drinks, instead of drinking just mixers? Through a haze of gin and rum, I felt somebody approaching. I looked up and oh my God I could almost hear the church bells ringing as he walked over to me.

He was tall, oh yes, and he was dark, plus he had the most amazing piercing blue eyes I had seen for quite some time. I doubted if Cordelia had needed to touch his photo up one bit. He was gorgeous, with a big, fat capital G!

‘Hello, and what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a bar like this on your own?’ The Irish lilt serenaded.

I liked this; I played up to his part. ‘Waiting for a gorgeous man like you to join me, obviously.’

I laughed flirtatiously. This was more like it. My heart was pounding already. Thank you, Christopher. Thank you, Cordelia. Thank You, Lord. At last I had met a date who I fancied instantly.

It hadn’t crossed my mind that he might be Irish but with a name like Declan O’Shea I suppose I should have guessed. Irish accents have always made me quiver with desire. When I visited Dublin with H this got me in all sorts of trouble. People thought I was having some sort of fit every time I walked down Herbert Street.

‘What are you drinking?’

‘Well, it was rum in here but I actually fancy a whisky and Coke now.’

‘Large one?’

Oh, here I go again. ‘Yes, please.’

Large drinks, large blue eyes – fantastic! A pianist started to play, and all I could think of was Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman in
Casablanca
(one of my favourite films). I thought back to the sample profiles; maybe old Ingmar had directed it and I didn’t even know. The godlike creature returned. He was dressed casually and he smelt gorgeous; his shoes passed the test and his face was like that of an angel. I felt no need to sneeze as he could have said, ‘Burn in hell,’ and I’ve have still sat there!

Desire hit me. I hadn’t slept with anyone for over a year and it was fantastic to feel those sensations again.

‘It’s really awkward meeting someone like this for the first time, isn’t it?’ I piped up.

‘Not when that someone is so beautiful and I feel instantly at ease with her, it isn’t,’

The Irish accent soothed. I pinched myself. Surely this couldn’t be true? Ouch!, No, I was still here; what’s more I was still feeling quite sober.

‘Good flight?’ I enquired.

‘Flight? Oh yeah, grand thanks.’

‘This agency lark. I’m so pleased that it isn’t just the uglies of this world who apply.’ If I were a dog my tongue would have been splashing right around my face by now, and my tail would have flown off!

‘Well just listen to you. Flattery will get you everywhere!’

‘So, Declan, how long have you been on the shelf, I mean books for?’

I laughed and leaned forward, ensuring that as much cleavage as possible was showing without falling out of my push up bra. I was behaving like a harlot and enjoying every single minute of it.

‘Actually, you are my first encounter, and wow, what an encounter!’ Declan smiled.

When I had gulped back my fourth large spirit and Declan had brushed his hand over my thigh three times, I realised that I would not be returning to 21 Layston Gardens and Penelope the cat tonight.

‘Now what did you say your name was again?’ Declan teased. I laughed thinking how funny he was. ‘Amy Jane Anderson at your service sir, and is there anything else at all you might want to find out about me this evening?’

That was it – harlot status confirmed. ‘The Rules’ had flown completely out of the window.
Retain a bit of mystery
. I might as well have been undressing there and then in the hotel lobby, whilst licking his face. I was smouldering, I just had to rip this man’s clothes off. I didn’t however want him to know how drunk I was. It’s bad enough being a harlot, but a drunken one is even worse. I tried desperately to maintain my sobriety.

‘It would be interesting to see if you like room service as much as I do, Ms Anderson.’

I excused myself and went to the toilet to check out my face. Make-up intact, no dribbles down my top, fantastic. In fact, I was positively glowing. Making sure the other cubicles were empty I quickly sussed out the condom machine and strutted back to the bar, baby stoppers in bag! Just in case, I thought to myself, returning to innocence for a nano-second. I could imagine Liv saying, ‘What? Just in case his run out?’

Thank heaven I had shaved my legs and put on my sexiest G-string.

Declan tasted as good as he looked when he pulled me to him in the lift and confirmed that it wasn’t only his eyes that were big. It was the hardest, most passionate kiss I had ever experienced in my life. His tongue found mine and I forgot where I was for a minute, until
ding!
In walked a very sedate middle-aged couple who both frowned intently.

We ran laughing to Room 301. Declan slammed the door shut and pushed me against it. Our breathing was loud and hard and I could already feel the wetness between my legs. I had never experienced the ‘ripping your clothes off’ sort of scenario that was happening right now, and I was lost in the moment totally. Even the mere touch of my breast made me moan out loud.

Declan had a broad and muscular back. I love backs and just had to massage him. He had a small shamrock tattoo on his left shoulder and pecs to die for. I sat astride him and massaged his back tenderly at first and then quite hard, making sure my breasts rubbed against him as I went back and forward.

‘Amy, I have to have you now,’ he whispered.

After what seemed like hours of rising and falling to the beat of Declan’s amazing love-making we lay on the bed, sweating, red-faced and bright-eyed. I reached over to hold Declan’s hand. ‘Maybe this dating agency lark does work after all, you Irish beast.’

‘Maybe it does, Ms Anderson. Now what would you like for dessert?’

I lay back and smiled a huge smile of pure satisfaction and happiness. Whatever, whoever, there was no doubt that Geminis did it for me in the bedroom department.

We slept for what seemed like minutes. I woke up and looked across at Declan. He was the best-looking creature I had ever woken up next to.

‘I have to see you again – you know that, don’t you?’ I whispered

‘Amy, you know sometimes you can just get too much of a good thing.’

‘What’s that’s supposed to mean?’ Please, please don’t let him be a complete bastard. I had to see him again; he was too delicious not to.

‘I’m winding you up, you beautiful personage. Of course I want to see you again.

Let’s keep it mysterious though, no numbers exchanged – let’s get our person at the agency to set up another date. It will make it all the more sexy.’

I had been looking for this sort of excitement for ages. It was like all my birthdays and Christmases coming at once.

Declan was in a hurry to leave and gave me cash to pay for the room. Without looking up, the receptionist in robotic fashion asked. ‘Name? Room number?’

I replied without thinking. ‘Anderson, 301’

The receptionist seemed to wake up then. ‘Is your name Amy Anderson?’

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘I have a message here for you, left late last night. We called out for you in reception but you were nowhere to be seen.’

Declan waved and blew me a kiss as he walked through the revolving door. I laughed and blew one back.

‘A message?’ I asked.

‘Yes. A Mr O’Shea called. He apologised profusely for the fact that his flight was delayed and said he would get Mr Starr to rearrange your appointment as soon as possible.’

– Nine –

Pisces:
The letter D spells danger. Single? Hard as it may seem, try to use your head instead of your heart today in a romantic situation.

I arrived home. My head was spinning. The mystery of the whole event even outweighed the huge hangover I had.

Who an earth had I just slept with?

I thought back to our initial conversation and realised that I had done all the talking and had opened myself up to a complete stranger. This was dangerous. Or was it? The dating game was one of the complete unknown initially anyway. And I did not regret sleeping with this person, whoever he was. We were both consenting adults. I am neither a slut nor a prude, but sometimes you know when the deed has to be done and lawdy Miz Claudy, it just
had
to be done last night!

‘D for danger’ in my horoscope – what a load of rubbish. Darling, debonair, dishy, delectable Declan! Dangerous? Never!

‘Cordelia, it’s Amy Anderson here.’

‘Oh, morning, dear. Christopher was just about to call you to apologise for the Declan mishap. He is still very, very keen to meet you.’

‘Er, right. OK.’

‘Are you all right Amy? You seem a little hesitant. It really was a genuine reason he couldn’t meet you; his flight was delayed.’

‘I’m fine honestly, thanks, Cordelia. Could we maybe leave it until next Friday now, as I’m really quite busy at the moment? Oh and could you resend me a photo of Declan I appear to have lost the other one?’

‘Of course. Oh and by the way – Laurence Smith-Bouchier phoned. He’d love to take you for dinner again.’

Good grief. This was all getting slightly out of control. Going from the company of Penelope the cat for a whole year and now to the company of half of southern England and Ireland was quite overwhelming.

‘I’ll call you back re Laurence. Thanks Cordelia,’ I replied politely.

The man must be completely mad, I thought. I ran out on him and he still wanted to see me. A bloke with no self-respect – how novel!

Even more disturbing was the fact that Cordelia had not annoyed me once throughout the phone conversation. I too must be going slightly deranged! It was then that it hit me: I would probably never see the false Declan O’Shea again. This should have felt like a good thing in a way, as he was obviously a complete charlatan who had used me with no compunction. But my low self-esteem, which rose and fell on a regular basis, suddenly perked up again. He had obviously liked me – a lot. My loins were doing the thinking for me. The false Declan O’Shea was gorgeous and he had made me laugh. He had also made me orgasm in seven different languages.
I had to see him again
– but how?