“Everything OK?”
“It’s from Lorcan. He can fuck off.”
Lorcan again. I’m dying to meet this Lorcan. I’m actually feeling quite grateful to him. If he hadn’t said whatever he did to Ben, Ben would never have rushed to my office and I would never have had the most romantic experience of my life.
I rub Ben’s arm sympathetically. “Isn’t he, like, your oldest friend? Shouldn’t you make up?”
“Maybe he was once.” Ben scowls.
I glance over his shoulder at the screen and catch a bit of the text.
You can’t run away from these decisions, Ben.
You know how hard everyone has worked, and to go AWOL now is simply
Ben moves the phone out of sight and I don’t like to ask if I can read the rest.
“What decisions?” I venture.
“It’s just some tedious, boring piece of crap.” Ben glowers at the phone. “And I’m not running away. Jesus. The thing with Lorcan is, he wants me to do everything his way. He got used to running the show with my dad. Well, things have changed.”
He types something short, his thumbs stabbing at the phone. Almost at once a reply arrives, and he curses under his breath.
“Priorities. He’s talking to me about priorities. I’m having a life. I’m doing what I should have done fifteen years ago. I should have married you then. We’d have ten kids.”
I feel a swell of love for him. He wants a big family! We’ve never talked about it before, but I was really hoping he wanted lots of kids too. Maybe four. Maybe six!
“We can make up for that now.” I lean in and nuzzle his neck. After a few seconds, Ben lets his phone drop onto the seat.
“You know what?” he says. “Nothing matters except us.”
“Exactly,” I breathe.
“I remember the moment I fell for you. It was that day you did cartwheels on the beach. You were sunbathing on that rock in the middle of the sea. You dived off the rock and swam to the beach, and then, instead of walking back, you did cartwheels all the way along. I don’t think you knew anyone was watching you.”
I remember that too. I remember the feel of the flat sand beneath my palms. My hair swinging. I was lithe and athletic. I had abs like a washboard.
And of course I knew he was watching me.
“You drive me wild, Lottie.” His hands are edging up my skirt again. “You always did.”
“Ben, we can’t.” I glance over at the elderly gentleman, who catches my eye over the top of his newspaper. “Not here.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I.” My body is pulsating all over again. “But we have to.” I check my watch yet again. Barely ten minutes have passed now. How are we going to last?
“Hey.” Ben meets my eyes, lowering his voice. “Have you been to the loos here? They’re big.” He pauses. “And unisex.”
I stifle a giggle. “You don’t mean—”
“Why not?” His eyes glint. “You up for it?”
“Now?”
“Why not? Still twenty minutes till boarding.”
“I … I don’t know.” I hesitate, feeling torn. It’s not exactly the way I pictured my honeymoon night—a quick encounter in a Heathrow loo. On the other hand, I didn’t realize I’d be so desperate. “What about our wedding night?” I can’t help clinging to my plan. “What about making it special and romantic?”
“Still will be.” His fingers are gently playing with my earlobe, sending starbursts of sensation down my neck. “This isn’t the main event. This is the preview.” His fingers have found my bra strap. “And, quite frankly, if we don’t soon, I’ll burst.”
“I’ll burst too.” I quell a gasp. “OK, you go first. Find us somewhere.”
“I’ll text.”
He gets up and walks swiftly toward the unisex washrooms. I lean back on my seat and try not to giggle. This place is so quiet and stuffy, I don’t know how we’ll pull it off.
I get out my phone to wait for his text and, on impulse, pull up Fliss’s number. She and I have always joked about the Mile-High Club. I can’t resist telling her. I send a quick text:
Have u ever wondered what it’s like doing it in an airport lounge loo? I’ll let you know.
I’m not really expecting her to reply. It’s only a silly, jokey text. So I’m gobsmacked when a moment later my phone pings with a reply:
Stop STOP!!!!!!!! Don’t! Stupid idea. Wait till hotel!!!!!!!!
I peer at the phone, baffled. What is her problem? I fire off another text:
Don’t worry, we’re married.
I take a sip of water, then hear another ping. This time it’s a text from Ben.
3rd cubicle on left. Knock twice.
I feel a delicious shiver and text back:
Coming.
As I pick up my bag, I see that Fliss has texted again:
Really, really think you should wait!!!! Save till hotel!!!!
This is getting annoying. I only texted her for fun, not to get some stupid lecture. What’s she worried about, that we’ll get caught and somehow people will link her to me and her precious magazine will be brought into disrepute? I send a cross reply:
None of your business.
As I cross the lounge toward the washrooms, I’m actually trembling with anticipation. I knock twice on the third cubicle door, and as Ben sweeps me in, he’s already half undressed.
“Oh God. Oh God …”
His mouth is immediately on mine, his hand is in my hair, now he’s unhooking my bra and I’m wriggling out of my knickers. I’ve never moved so fast. I’ve never wanted it so fast. I’ve never needed it so badly in my life.
“Shh!” we keep whispering to each other as we bump against the cubicle walls. Thank God they’re sturdy. We’re maneuvering into position as quickly as we can, Ben’s braced against the wall, we’re both breathing like steam engines, I can tell this is going to take about ten seconds.…
“Condom?” I whisper.
“No.” He meets my eye. “Right?”
“Right.” I feel an extra spurt of excitement. We might make a baby!
“Hey.” He suddenly pauses. “Have you got into any kinky stuff since we last did it? Anything I should know?”
“A bit,” I say breathlessly, hoicking my skirt up farther. “Tell you later. Come on.”
“OK! Give me a chance—”
Rap-rap-rap-rap!
The knocking at the cubicle door nearly gives me a heart attack, and I bash my knee on the cistern. What? What?
“Excuse me?” a female voice is calling from the other side of the door. “This is the lounge manager speaking. Is there someone in there?”
Fuck.
I can’t answer. I can’t move. Ben and I eye each other in panic.
“Could you please open the door?”
My leg is still wrapped round Ben’s back. The other foot is on the loo seat. I have no idea where my underwear is. Worst of all, my entire body is still throbbing with need.
Could we just ignore this lounge manager? Keep going? I mean, what can they do?
“Carry on?” I mouth at Ben. “Really quietly?” I gesture to make myself clear, and the loo seat creaks. Shit.
“If you don’t come out, I’m afraid I will have to use a passkey to gain access,” the voice is saying.
They have a passkey to the loos? What is this, a fascist state?
I’m still breathing as hard as ever. But now it’s with miserable frustration. I can’t do this. I can’t consummate my marriage with a lounge manager listening six inches away, the other side of the door, poised with a passkey.
There’s more knocking at the door. In fact, it’s becoming more like a pounding.
“Can you hear me?” the woman is demanding. “Can anyone hear me in there?”
I meet Ben’s eyes ruefully. We’re going to have to answer, before she bursts in with a SWAT team.