7 posts tagged “leo”

Elle was in a particularly bad mood when I came home from yoga with Bert.
"Oh, Christ, now you're on drugs too?!" she exclaimed, tossing a book at me.
"Yoga has nothing to do with drugs." I smiled and exhaled slowly. "It's like having sunshine in your veins."
"I read an article about the stuff- it's very dangerous," Elle said. "Listen to you, you're becoming one of them. You're going over to the other side. The land of sandals, spoon-benders and yogurt fanciers."
"Don't be ridiculous, Elle. I think Elise looks fab," Bert said. "She's the most flexible person in the whole class."
I grinned. There was a reason for that. And his name is Ben.
Since Leo and I had quietly decided to break up (we both found out we were shagging other people), I had been seeing various men. My relationship with Leo was the longest one I'd had since middle school and I felt tied down (even when I was being tied down by someone who was not Leo). So, I had been taking advantage of my new-found freedom and seeing as many men as possible.
And Ben, our yoga instructor, had become my new playmate.
We'd gone out for drinks at a trendy juice bar after my first class and that night I found out exactly how flexible I could be. It was crazy. And because Ben is fantastic and wonderful and everything a man should be, we decided to keep things casual. He can see other women and I can see other men. And things are going brilliantly.
I leaned against Elle's desk. "So, have you thought about where you'd like to go for our little vacation?"
"Yes, actually," Elle said, sitting up straight in her chair. "I have spent hours and hours thinking about where we should go and I've made a decision."
"Wow," I said, "you must really have had a change of heart. So, where would you like to go?"
"To the pub across the street. And no further."

After yoga class the next day, Bert and I were just strolling in the park, both of us feeling very relaxed. Him, because he honestly enjoyed yoga and I, because I'd just had a quickie with Ben in his office while Bert was changing out of his unitard.
"If I were any more relaxed, you could just pour me into a bowl," Bert said. He looked at me. "You've given up smoking, haven't you?"
"Of course, I have," I said. That statement was almost true. I'd stopped smoking completely... besides post-coital cigarettes, but that's different.

We headed back to the shop and noticed a sign being put up across the street from Whyte Books, right beside Black Books.

And that's when the noise started.

I dated a chef, she says. So I should be the chef, she says.

Pfft. I've probably shagged a hundred police officers- doesn't mean I should be able to go around hitting skinheads with my baton. And at least those hundred police officers weren't gayer than the day is long either.

Speaking of shagging, I thought as I walked to a nearby furniture store. It's been ages since I've heard from Leo, my gorgeous tennis champion. He should be back in London sometime soon... I would think...

At least Elle is letting me be the maitre d’. I always knew Bert would end up being a waitress someday.

I walked into the posh furniture store, looking about for some Paris-type fancy-pancy tables that you see outside on patios. I figured if we spaced them correctly, we could fit five inside and two outside... although that would mean that we would have to make sure nobody over 200 lbs could come in because than the spacing would be all wrong and that would not be good.

"Hellooooooo, madame," this snooty-nosed salesman said, practically running over to me as I came in. "And what can I do for yooooooooou today?"

I stared at him. "Well, first of all, you can stop talking like that."

He seemed oddly put-off. "Excuse me?"

"And second, you can show me your fancy patio tables and chairs. And cast iron with a little design on the table top. And French-looking."

He raised his eyebrows at me and walks a few steps ahead. "Well, we have this table and chair set. It's made from the finest quality cast iron. Is it to your liking?"

It was.

"'Tis," I said. "How much is it?"

"The whole set retails for seven hundred, sixty pounds." He smiled.

I stared at him. "Wot?"

"Seven hundred, sixty-"

"I heard you!" I snapped. "That's a lot of money for one table and chair set..."

The salesman lowered his voice and stood closer to me. "Tell you what. I can let you have it for..." He tapped his mouth in thought. "...say, six hundred pounds. That's my final offer."

But still, that was not a good enough offer for me.

Elle and I once took a trip to Madrid and she said I was terrible at haggling. Well, let's just say I got Mr. Fancy Salesman down to one hundred and fifty pounds for that table... I also happen to have skinned knees and a small stain on the front of my shirt- but all in a day's work.

And so what if our bistro only has one table. It will be a really, like, exclusive place!! People will be fighting to get in and sit at our really fancy table! Brilliant!!

Elle, however, was not so impressed with my business plan.

I was kind of hoping that Leo would invite me along on his tennis trip to Edinburgh, but no. (Mostly because I haven't shagged anybody in Och Eye Land... since the last time I was there.) Turns out my gorgy boyfriend doesn't love me that much. He mentioned about meeting up with one of his old school chums who moved to Edinburgh after college and then getting pissed with him in some pub they went to last year.

Well, that's just fab. He can do what he likes. He's his own person, certainly. I don't own him or anythin'. I can't stop him from drinking with old friends- and I wouldn't.

Because I am a very good girlfriend. Always have been.

But still. Leo hasn't been my boyfriend that long. I'm not sure if I trust him 100% yet. What if he shags some Highland Goddess and decides to stay there and continue to shag her because she's got that whole Highland Goddess thing going for her.

Well, it would be his loss. I could have the whole Highland Goddess thing about me, too, if I wanted. But I don't.
It just makes me mad, that's all. Almost mad enough to go to Tom's sleepover orgy thing... that I wasn't exactly invited to.

I don't understand it. Tom invited various friends for an all-night shag fest... and he didn't invite me... just because I made some harmless comment about his penis being small.
Really. He's such a child. I'm thankful to be with Leo now, instead of Tom. Leo is a man while Tom is just a boy.
But how can I be with Leo if he's off shagging some Highland Goddess?!

I swear, Bert is acting so weird ever since I started dating (i.e. ravaging the magnificent body that belongs to) Leo. In his poor, strange (and very mistaken) mind, he likely thinks we're dating or something because we shagged once while drunk. (Well. If I dated everybody I ever shagged, I'd have a much busier life than I do, that is for certain.)

And what is it with Tom, too?! He keeps ringing me up, asking me when I'm available to come over and do something naughty in his kitchen. (I swear, the man is obsessed with kitchen sex. There are other rooms in his flat that are just as good!) He was none too pleased when I told him I had a boyfriend now.

"And he's fabulous." I grinned. "And... large."
"Large?" Tom asked over the phone. "...How large?"
"Quite large."
"...Bigger than me?"
"Oh, Tom," I said with a teasing laugh. "Most men are."
And then he hung up on me. My God. He can be such a baby sometimes.

Apparently, Fran's got herself a new job. Well... a job. She seems to be having a hard time of it lately though. First, her apartment is shrinking because that pervy landlord of his put in a new room beside hers and now she's got a job where she has no idea what's going on. When she was over last night for a chat, she told us about it.

"And there's this guy there... who does nothing but play with his balls all day!"
I stared at her. "Wot? Out in the open? Where everybody can see?"
"No, no," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "He puts his hands in his pockets and plays with them."
Bert winced. "That is disgusting."
Elle looked at him, her eyebrow furrowed. "I caught you doing that just last week, ya silly bugger."
Bert shrugged. "Well, I was in my home, wasn't I? I wasn't at work."
Elle rolled her eyes. "My home. And you don't have a job."
Bert crossed his arms over his chest- not an easy feat in one of my camisole tank tops. "I do too have a job. I have a gig at a comedy club tomorrow there. So there."
I glanced at Elle. "It's karaoke night at that creepy comedy club he made us go to last week."

Leo took me to lunch today. It was brilliant. The restaurant was nice, not too expensive but not cheap, by any means. We went for a walk around Piccadilly and took some photos like some daft tourists. Then we drove in his fancy car to his fancy flat in fancy Notting Hill and made love.

That's right, I said. "Made love."

There was wine, rose pedals in the bath tub, brand new satin sheets, candles, the whole lot. And he even bought me some sexy lingerie to wear while we made love.

Needless to say, it was completely fab. Also, Elle is completely jealous... and, if I'm not mistaken... Bert may be jealous too. But I'm not sure who he's actually jealous of- Leo or me.

She never came back from the loo.

No big surprise there.  She took off with the Tennis God.

And Bert made me wait with him for two hours, waiting for Elise to come back.

I was staring at the ground, mourning the loss of the chance I had with the Tennis God, the second Elise flicked her hair, when Bert said, “Perhaps she fell in?”

“And popped out of the Tennis Go- Leo’s toilet,” I replied, getting up.

“We could go get her!” he exclaimed, jumping up off the bench.

“That’s the daftest thing I’ve heard all – where you goin’?” I said, as Bert began to stride away from me. 

Which probably isn’t an easy thing to do when you’re a 6’2” man in 2 inch heels.  I think Bert was born in heels.

I followed Bert to the club’s reception desk, where he was asking about Leo’s residence.  I went to grab my flask out of my cleverly sewn pocket, but I remembered it was empty.  It truly was a brilliant idea.  What else is easily portably and not awkward to have sitting in a pocket of a dress?  My flask!  I filled it with water and it was like a cool pack on my leg the entire time we were riding the tubes!

Anyroad, the receptionist gave Bert a strange look and asked, “This is personal information.”

Bert was stuttering and panicking when I said, “He’s a friend.  He took my sister to his place and told us to meet him there later.” She glanced between the two of us and hesitated.  “Listen sister, do you know who this is?” I asked her.  She shook her head slowly, eyebrows knit.  “This is Bertram O’Malley, the biggest sports agent in the UK.  We need to head over to Leo’s for some big-shot talk.”  I put my hand to the side of my mouth like I was going to tell her a secret, as I leant over the counter.  “Leo got a little excited and forgot to tell us where he lived.  And don’t worry about O’Malley here, he gets a little paranoid in public, you know, all these…sporty-types, jumping out of dustbins, claiming they can play cricket and footy and all that crap.”

She either bought it, or thought we were clinically insane and thought is was better if we killed Leo and not her.  She looked it up for us.  Apparently Leo lives around Notting Hill somewhere.

“Oh, mate, I don’t think they let your type around there,” I said to Bert, trying to dissuade him from going.  He’s been ridiculously protective of Elise since spring.

“Transvestites?” he asked, confused.  I looked at him.

“Yes, Bert, transvestites,” I said.  “Let’s just go home and wait for her, alright?”

“Yeh, alright.”

Later that afternoon, Fran was round pestering us about the walls in her flat.

“If you don’t believe me, you can come over and watch them with me!” she exclaimed, sitting on the desk as Bert tried to make a missing persons poster.

“No, Elle and I are going to stay in and wait for Elise to come home, aren’t we?” he said, looking over at me.  I was lying on the shop couch, with 3 fans pointed down at me on full blast.

“Cor, I dunno; walls, waiting for my sister, maybe I’ll even go watch women or the thermometer with Bernard or Manny.  It’s such a big decision,” I retorted.  Bert made a face and went back to the computer.

“You should stay in a wait for your sister,” he commented.

“I’m not her keeper.”

“Can I stay with you lot?  I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages…I just lay there all sticky and sweaty and hot…,” Fran began to say, but Bert was out of the chair and pulling Fran towards the door.

“No, go!  And take your sexy words with you!” he exclaimed, pushing her out the door.  I opened an eye.

“What’s wrong, Berty?  Fran leading you on now?” I asked, amused.

“Shadd’up.”

Some time after that I must of fell asleep because the next thing I knew, Bert was shaking me hissing, “Get up!  She’s coming home!”

“Whaaaa…who?”  I sat up in the humid dark.

“Elise!” he hissed.

“Aww who cares?  She’s 25 years old!  I wanna sleep!” I growled.  I threw myself back down on the couch, as Bert sat back down at the desk, turning the lamp off.

Seconds later the front door creaked open.  I turned over to watch what Bert was going to do, curiosity getting the better of me.  I could hear Elise shuffling across the floor, when Bert turned the lamp on suddenly. 

Elise had that deer-in-the-headlights look on her face when the light hit her face.

“Where have you been?” Bert demanded.

Elise didn’t say anything.  I looked at him.

“Jesus, Bert,” I started, rubbing my face in tiredly, “what are you?  The Curfew Nazi?”

I winced painfully into the hot sun, shielding my eyes with my hand. I was wearing my new designer sunglasses (that I stole from Tom's place- his man-girlfriend must have left them there) and a tennis frock that matched Bert and Elle's. Bert was wearing a wig and Elle hadn't even brushed her hair that day.

The only reason I was okay with this whole dressing-alike-in-public thing was because I knew I looked the best of the three of us... Although, I had to admit that Bert's legs were probably nicer and more feminine-looking than my own.

Especially in two-inch heels.

He was going to go with the five-inch but I reminded him that we were playing tennis this afternoon, not tarting around for sex partners. Only then does one wear ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.

Elle had been busy doing something with the sewing machine that morning. I didn't even know she could sew. Turns out, she'd sewn a little pocket into her tennis outfit- just big enough for her flask to fit into.

I rolled my eyes at her and looked at Bert. He sweating like a kettle but seemed quite excited to start.

"Why couldn't you have signed us up for swimming...? Or diving?" I asked Bert.

"Oh, get over it," he said with a shrug. "Tennis is fun! It'll be great! ...As soon as our instructor gets here, we're good to go... Oh, I think that's him now."

I looked over my shoulder... only to see A God In Tennis Shoes walking towards us. My mouth dropped open a little and my breathing stopped and my heart was pounding and knees were weak and my pupils were dialated- all of those reactions a body makes when one wants something. Or, in this case, someone.

Leo

His name was Leo. And he was magnificent.

I spent the afternoon trying to impress him with my skills, all the while flirting with him, pushing my chest out and trying to make myself look better in my frock than Bert. Making myself look seductive, cute and attractive has always been easy for me. But Bert and Elle were not making it easy for me. Elle even stuck her foot out and made me trip once! JEEZE!!

Thankfully, Leo was there to help me up. And by the way he looked at me as I brushed asphalt off my knees, I knew he wanted me too.

Really. Men are so easy to read.

Maybe it was the tennis court. Maybe it was his rippling muscles. Maybe it was the intense heat. I don't know. But if Elle and Bert weren't standing right there, I could've tackled him right then and there. With my thighs, that is.

After our tennis lesson, Bert was quite happy with his improvement and Elle's flask was empty. I told them to wait for me while I used the loo.

I found Leo by some vending machines, downing a bottle of water. Sweat was trickling down his forhead, arms and neck. It made my toes curl just looking at him.

I pretended to be looking at the water bottle machine. "So. What should I get? ...Water, water or... water?" I smiled up at him.

He grinned. "They also have water-flavored water," he said. "It's got a nice, rich... water flavor to it."

I laughed loudly, like all women do when a man they are attracted to makes a lame joke. They always laugh louder than what is necessary. Must be one of those human nature things- like batting your eyelashes or rifling through a man's wallet while he's asleep.

 He took a step closer to me. "Do you have some place you're supposed to be this afternoon?"

"Yes, actually," I said. "Your flat."

 Okay. So, I didn't get to tell Bert and Elle that I wasn't going home with them. I'm sure it was fine. I'm sure they didn't wait that long for me anyway. Leo signed out early, said he was feeling unwell, and we drove to his gorgeous flat outside of Notting Hill. (It's always nice to go home with someone and then find out they have loads of cash. It's comforting.) On the drive to his flat, he told me that his parents wanted him to become a barrister but he enjoyed tennis far too much to finish law school. Turns out he's on the brink of turning pro. He only coaches as a hobby.

That's right. He works as a hobby. He plays tennis as a career. 

If there's a better way to get a woman to strip all her clothes off and shag you seven times, all in different places (and positions) in your apartment, I don't know what is.

And guess what. Leo wants to see me again. He wants to take me out on an actual date.

Could life be any better? I think not.

The heat.

Oh bloody hell, the heat.

 Bert has decided that “we” need to get “in shape,” which translates into, Bert gained some weight this winter and doesn’t fit into most of his frocks anymore.  So he’s gone and signed us up for tennis lessons.  In the middle of a sodding heat wave.  But the most humiliating part of it (apart from the fact that Elise and I already know how to play tennis) is that he bought us matching tennis frocks.

To top it off, the thing under the sink has stolen my racket.  The rotten bugger.

So, knowing that Bernard kept an assortment of junk in his garden, I headed over to Black Books while Elise and Bert were getting ready to go for our first lesson.

As I bounded into his shop (I was feeling oddly excited), Bernard was sitting at his desk, watching all the customers of the feminine sort intently.  Manny was standing in front of the large thermometer, muttering to himself.

“Bernard,” I called from the door, before plunging into the sea of customers.  He looked up at the sound of his name.  His eyes narrowed when I got to his desk.  “Can I borrow your tennis racket?”

“What’s dat?  What is dat t’ing you’re wearing?” he demanded.  I frowned and put my hands on my hips.  He sounded angry.  What’s his problem now?

“It’s tennis frock, if you must know.”

“Why are you wearing it?  You’re not allowed!” he said, trying to cover his eyes.  “Mustn’t stare, mustn’t stare,” he muttered to himself.

“It’s not that bad!” I replied.  I thought the frock was a little annoying, but I was pretty sure that it didn’t look horrendous on me. 

With his eyes still covered, Bernard asked, “What do you need a tennis racket for?”

“I’m making spaghetti,” I replied.  He uncovered his eyes and stared at me.  I rolled my eyes.  “Can I borrow it or not?”

“No.  I don’t have one,” he answered, opening the nearest book and holding it up in front of his face.  I reached out and pulled the book down. His eyes looked really weird.  Not like, hangover-weird, or Bernard-weird, but genuinely weird.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“No – yes, I’m fine!” he exclaimed, pulling the book out of my hand and holding it up in front of his face.  I was about to say something when Manny grabbed my shoulder and practically shouted in my face, “Is it suppose to go up to 88 today?!  What if it hits 88 today?”

“You’ll be fine, Manny,” I said, prying his sweaty fingers off my shoulder.  I fished four pounds out of my pocket and handed it to him.  “Go buy some ice cream, it’ll cool you down.”

“Yes, cool.  Cool, brrrrrr,” Manny said to himself, as he headed out back. 

Bernard still had the book in front of his face, peeking around every couple of seconds, as I decided it was a good time to leave.

“Bye, Bernard,” I called as I headed to the door.

“Yes!  Good!  Go play your tennis with your fancy tranny man!” he shouted from behind the book.   Shaking my head, I left the shop and headed back over to where Bert and Elise were hiding in the shadows, trying to stay out of the sun.

“Ready?” Bert asked, excitedly. 

Let’s be honest, if Venus Williams was a man in a frock, that’s what Bert looked like.  He was even wearing a wig.  I don’t mind his cross-dressing tendencies, but this was just kind of odd.

After taking the Underground to our destination, we met our tennis instructor, Leo, the Tennis God.  Elise was practically tripping over herself to make him notice her.  She even forced her own racket upon me when he offered to go get me one.

I swear the heat is making everyone potty.  I’ve been watching men like I’m Elise, or something worse.  They’re driving me insane; the way they smell, the way they smile… stop brain, stop!