The Alphabet Game the Complete Alpha Series a to X, Y, Z (18 page)

Gabe turns me and lays me across the seat. My head is against the door of the jeep. He winds the window down further. He lifts my leg over his shoulder, manoeuvres me into a position where he can gain access and he plunges into me.

He looks at me, ‘the couple outside have just started fucking again. Who’s going to have the better fuck? Us or them?’

He rocks into me and out of me, hard. I gasp and moan. I hear the moans from outside and feel myself get even wetter.

‘Us. Fuck me,’ I shout.

He thrusts harder.

I lose myself in being in this car, in the middle of the sparse woodland garden, surrounded by strangers. I moan louder, egging Gabe on.

‘Harder,’ I scream.

I hear a noise and see that the couple have moved from the tree and are fucking against our car door. I can’t take much more and I explode, in one of the most intense orgasms I have ever had. Gabe follows.

‘Fuck Stella, you’re wild.’

The couple against the car, reach their own crescendo. After a moment they turn and smile at us through the window and walk away.

Gabe moves the hair that has fallen across my eye and tucks it behind my ear.

‘You ready to go?’

‘No not yet. How long did you hire this jeep for? I think we need to get your money’s worth.’

The next day is spent arranging travel and persuading Col that my goldfish would look good on display at The Riverside cafe. By Tuesday tea-time I’m at Heathrow Airport waiting to board a flight to New York with Gabe. I’ve only ever flown short haul; small trips to European cities and I’m not all that keen on flying. I’m certainly not looking forward to an eight hour journey. Gabe assures me that the bigger aeroplanes make for a more comfortable journey, so I’m a little disconcerted when I get on my American Airlines flight and find its the same sort of plane I’ve been on before, with three seats either side. I look at Gabe. I’m tall and of course he’s even taller so we basically have to concertina our legs up to sit in place.

‘You told me the aeroplane would be roomy.’

‘They usually are, I’ve never flown to the US on one of these small things before.’

‘I’m going to get a DVT, I need flight socks.’

‘Damn and we already did F, that would have turned me right on. Hey, can we do M early?’

‘What?’

‘Mile high.’

‘No we cannot. I won’t be able to walk to the toilets, my legs will be dead.’

‘Shall we phone Mitch and ask if he has a private jet available for his little princess?’

‘Ha ha ha.’

Mitch had been very surprised when I phoned and told him that I was going to New York. He’d said he would phone ahead and arrange for Toni to meet me at the club on Thursday morning, to give me a day or two to acclimatise to the different time zone and the pace of New York City. Then he’d asked me if I’d called at the house. When I asked why he said he’d had a strange evening where he’d seen a sharp knife in the middle of the kitchen floor and then noticed my bedroom door was wide open. He asked if we needed to talk. I said no.

He then told me to get the most I could out of looking into business at The Rodeo, before asking if I wanted to speak to my mother. I again declined.

When we eventually pass through security at JFK I’m exhausted. It’s three am UK time but I have to adjust my watch and make it nine pm, which just seems ridiculous. We’ve both arranged rooms at a hotel called The Pearl in Times Square. I’d made it clear to Gabe that I wanted my own space. I thought he’d stay with his mother but he said he preferred his own room. As we walk out onto the airport concourse and I look for the taxi rank, Gabe guides me in a different direction. It’s then I see the driver holding up a sign saying Miss Mulroney. ‘What’s this all about?’ I ask.

The driver takes my hand, shakes it and asks me to follow him. I go outside to a car park where a Limousine is parked. The driver holds the door open for me and I climb inside. Gabe follows. It’s set out with leather seating around the edge. A small fridge faces me and in front is a small table bearing a bucket containing champagne and ice. Even through tired eyes it looks great. The driver points to a music system at the rear and tells me to choose some tunes. I settle on Rhianna and listened to her sing about Diamonds whilst the lights of New York glisten on the crystal cuts of my flute.

The nearer we get to the centre, the higher the buildings become and I end up with my face close to the tinted windows, looking as far up in the air as I can. I spot bridges in the distance and ask if one is Brooklyn, but Gabe explains there are loads of bridges in New York. Having tinted windows is fabulous as I can people watch all the way to the hotel and no-one knows I’m looking. We enter Time Square with it’s bright lights. I’d thought Leicester Square at home might come close to resembling here but it’s a kaleidoscopic riot of neon and colour, all flashing and keeping my half open eyes entranced. Eventually the Limo pulls up outside the hotel.

We register and go up to our rooms. Gabe opens my door, throws my suitcase in and then closes it again, leaving me outside still on the corridor, having had only the smallest glimpse of what I’m hoping is a very comfy bed.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We’re going for food, then I’ll return you so you can sleep.’

‘It’s gone four am.’ I whine.

‘It’s ten past ten. A small supper and then you can go to bed. Promise.’

Shoulders slumped I follow him back down the corridor and out into New York.

He takes me to a restaurant called The Olive Garden, in Times Square. It’s only about a five minute walk from our hotel. There’s a wait for the actual restaurant but Gabe tells me it’s fun to eat at the bar. I order a coke, hoping the caffeine will help. The barman gives us a huge bowl of salad. The thing probably has it’s own atmosphere it’s so large. I doubt I need to order anything else but ask for soup to follow and Gabe does the same. He polishes off the salad whilst I repeatedly yawn, getting to the stage where my eyes won’t stop watering. Then the soup turns up. Tomato and red pepper. It smells delicious. The bowl is so huge I could do my lengths in it. It comes accompanied by a whole baguette.

‘How much food?’ I whisper.

‘This is quite normal for over here so you’d better get used to it.’

‘I can’t eat all this. I’d usually have a third of this soup and baguette.’

‘You’d better do your best because they take it as an insult if you leave anything.’

‘I’ll be sick.’

Gabe just laughs. ‘This is where Christopher works, but he’s obviously not here tonight.’

‘Do you get on well?’

‘When I see him, yes. I’ll have to try and catch up with him whilst I’m here, introduce you.’

‘That’d be nice.’

At the point where I decide I’ve finished with my soup, it’s impossible to know whether it’s because I’m full or because my face is seriously about to fall in it. My arm is now resting on the counter with my face firmly clasped in it and I’m ready to snore.

‘Come on sleepy head, let’s get you back.’

On the way back I’m absent mindedly looking around when I notice the bright lights of M&M World.

All of a sudden I’m animated and point, ‘Hey look what’s there.’

‘Told you we had one here. However you’ve all day tomorrow Miss for that. It’s bedtime.’

He leaves me at my door with a chaste goodnight kiss. His own room is next to my own.

‘Night Stella.’

I smile and go into my room. I don’t remove my make-up, brush my teeth, set an alarm or get undressed. I just crawl under the duvet, with a fleeting thought of how comfortable it is and then I’m out.

I awaken and see with the clock on the bedside that it’s four am. I close my eyes again and luckily I’m so tired from the travelling the day before I fall back to sleep and wake up at nine.

I was warned not to use my mobile phone to call anyone here as its so expensive to use your own number so I agreed with Gabe that we’d message each other using the hotel’s wi-fi until I can sort out a different sim. He’s left me a message to say he would catch me later, that he’s going to spend some time at the office. I stretch out, the whole day ahead of me. First stop shower, then coffee and shopping.

I love the hotel breakfast. I skip the mimosa on offer but have copious amounts of coffee and a selection of the most delightful little Danish pastries. I note the hotel’s sign for a happy hour three until four pm where they serve wine and think if I’ve worn myself out shopping by then I’ll head back for refreshments.

I ask the concierge the way to Fifth Avenue and head on out. I walk past the Rockerfeller Centre, taking in the bustle, which feels very similar to a busy London. I love how wide the streets are and smile as the yellow cabs pass me by. I was told not to jaywalk and wait for the walk signs but everyone just heads across when they can. I do note however that even if the signal for walking is on, the cars will still drive through the crossing if they get a chance. At home that would be a motoring offence, so I make sure I concentrate when I cross so I don’t end up carried on a bumper.

I walk past Harry Winston’s and Abercrombie and Fitch. There’s a huge queue outside Abercrombie. I’ve heard the Assistants are hot and wonder if that’s why there’s a queue. I can’t be bothered to wait to get in a shop. I carry on walking, past Trump Tower, and then I spot the immediately recognisable pale blue of Tiffany’s. I walk into my idea of Heaven, the Doorman nods as I walk in. I’m faced with a dazzling array of jewellery and accessories. As the lovely silver lift doors open, there’s an attendant to press the button for you to ascend and descend to each floor. I can’t think of anything worse, but she seems happy enough letting all the tourists out onto the second floor where the cheaper goods are. I want to buy a souvenir but don’t want to spend my savings, I never know when I’ll need them these days. I settle on a plain silver band stamped with T&Co. It’s simple but looks elegant. I place it on the third finger of my right hand and admire it.

Leaving the building, I carry on walking in the direction of Central Park. The weather is beautiful and I fancy a stroll. I enter the park and start walking. I never realised it was so vast. I barely cover any of it during my hours walk.

After a stop at lunch for a hot dog from a vendor, I walk back nipping in and out of stores and calling for coffee in one of the several zillion Starbucks dotted around. Then I decide I’ll take a trip up Rockerfeller. I’m lucky that there isn’t too big a queue and twenty minutes later I’m flying up to the top. I love the lift, or elevator as they call it here. It seems to transport me to the top in no time at all until we’re Top of the Rock. From the top you can see the whole of Central Park and I see just how vast it is, Goodness knows how long it would take to walk the whole of it. I have to admit to being disappointed when a guy in the park told me what I was taking a photo of wasn’t the real Friend’s Fountain but a replica, and the real one was in the studio in LA. That almost killed my buzz, until I told him I was a Sex and the City Fan. When he told me about the tour and about a restaurant that was part owned by Mr Big and just happened to be across the road from The Pearl, I thought that’s evening dinner sorted.

I look through my camera and zoom in on the Statue of Liberty. You really can see everything from up here, it’s amazing. I’m having the time of my life wandering around New York, I feel like I’ve found a second home. I could get used to it here.

I head back to the hotel for the afternoon wine and then go into my room to relax. Except when I pull the duvet back there’s a slight problem. My freshly changed sheets are covered in M&Ms in different hues of rose-pink. That rat bastard. I go and knock next door to see if he’s there. He opens up.

‘I seem to have a problem with my bed.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes it’s full of
candy
so I can’t get in it.’

‘Well you shouldn’t get in it now anyway because you’ll not sleep tonight.’

‘And tonight, what will I do then?’

‘Tonight you’ll be in my bed. Why the hell do you think I outlaid all that money to fill your bed with that shit? Why you just can’t like rose petals like a normal girl is beyond me, we could have at least fucked on those. I’m not willing to get an M&M up my arse.’

I turn on my heel to walk away.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To eat some of that shit. You’d better book Da Marino for later so I can make room.’

‘Da Marino?’

‘Yep, it’s right across from this hotel and apparently it’s part owned by Chris Noth and on some nights he hangs around there. Just can’t miss that chance.’

‘I will duly book the restaurant and then seek to Google this Mr Noth that I have as competition,’ he laughs, ‘Whilst you go forth and eat your body weight in candy.’

‘I prefer chocolate or sweets.’

He sighs and tuts, ‘British women. Go on before I smack your fanny.’

‘My ass is moving itself to my room.’

‘Who says I was talking about your ass?’

The meal later proves divine, chicken breasts in a white wine sauce. The bar is narrow and dimly lit and there’s a lady singing along to a jazz accompaniment. The atmosphere is fantastic. I’m served two whole chicken breasts and later when I’ve left one because I am so full, the waiter does indeed turn snarky stating that there must be something wrong if I’ve left some. I ask for it to be doggy bagged which placates him somewhat, even though I intend to put it in the bin the minute I’m near one. I couldn’t eat another thing. I look at Gabe. No, not even that.