The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Four

The moment she takes my cock in her hands it feels all wrong.

Her hands are too tanned and her fingernails too long. And she has harsh red polish on them. Eloise didn't have polish on hers. I look down at the blonde head kissing its way down my body. From this angle and under this much alcohol it could be her. Then she looks up.

Brown eyes.

Brown eyes framed with fake blonde hair. Not blue eyes and pale strawberry blonde hair.

She smiles at me and I press my head back on the couch and cover my eyes with my arm in an attempt to focus. How much focus was actually involved in a woman sucking your cock? Should it take this much effort?

When her mouth closes around it I moan but it's more from sheer disappointment that it's not her. I can't believe she's back in my fucking head. And in my fucking life. And married.

The chances of all of those things happening at once, at this point in time, is actually pretty hilarious. I feel myself smile. The laugh breaks out of my throat before I can stop it.

"What's so funny?" The light American accent says.

"Nothing. Just..." I sit up on my elbows and squint down at her. "You know what? I'm way too pissed, sweetheart. Would you mind if we called it a night?"

"You want to go to bed?" She smiles seductively.

See, this was the issue, any other time, I'd be absolutely fine with fucking this girl and not calling her tomorrow. Now I just want her to go. So I can be miserable and alone while I think about her. Then not call her tomorrow.

"Yeah, I do. By myself," I say with an apologetic smile. "Let's do this another time yeah, Lauren? Leave your number?"

She sits up. "It's actually Laurel," she frowns. It makes me feel like a cunt. I am a cunt. "If you want me to go that's cool though," she nods, standing to straighten her T-shirt and fix the thick smooth band of silver hugging her neck. "Mind if I use your bathroom first?"

"Not at all. It's through there past the greenhouse with the bed in it." I nod in the direction of the toilet as I move to sit and tuck myself back into my jeans.

She looks bemusedly at me before turning and strutting off in the direction of the bathroom. I scrub my hands over my face a few times to try and wake myself up. Because contrary to what I just told Laurel I have literally no desire to go to bed right now. I feel like torturing myself some more and getting all the way pissed.

When she comes back from the bathroom she grabs her leather jacket from the back of the couch and throws me a disappointed look. Reaching forward, I grab my sketch pad from the coffee table and flip it to the back. When I hand it to her along with my chewed pencil she takes it from me with a slow smile.

"I'll call you," I offer. Who knows, maybe I would.

No, I did know. I wouldn't call her.

I watch her scribble something on the pad before she hands it back to me, still smiling. "Well, I really liked your show," she says.

I smile. "Thank you." She nods and spins on her heel and saunters out of the loft without looking back. Did I really just refuse sex with an attractive woman? I'm a fucking tit. I glance down at the sketch pad and smile wider, shaking my head.

I was going to put my number on here but what's the point? - Lauren x

Standing, I go to the kitchen and grab the bottle of Bushmills, then the laptop from the dining table, before returning to the sofa to get down to how I really want to spend the opening night of my first exhibition in the states.