Wonderful!
Could my life get more embarrassing?
What the hell did I do so wrong in a past life to deserve so much humiliation during this one?
I flop down onto my mattress and throw myself onto my back, grab one of the throw pillows beside me and covering my face tightly with it I scream over and over. I swear and shout, berating myself for being so stupid. How must this seem to them? They are global superstars. Wealthy, handsome, young eligible bachelors, and me? I'm the discarded London Divorceé, cast aside by VOGUE magazines 'Sexiest man alive 2012-2016' Harry Hartwell, for a far more glamorous and adoring newer model. Surely they must think I'm out to snare one of them as a replacement husband? Why else would someone bare their naked breasts to a group of men within only a few days of meeting them? They're probably out there discussing how crass, ill-bred and brazen I am.
Lifting my legs up onto the bed and rolling onto my stomach I bury my flaming face into the pillow and angrily bellow the word Fuck over and over, until I am hyperventilating due to lack of oxygen. I repeatedly and violently slam my hands onto the mattress, rapidly kicking my legs like a championships swimmer. Swiftly and effortlessly flipping onto my back in one graceful move, the pillow remaining over my face, I continue to vent loudly....
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!" I scream, the volume increasing with every utterance of the vulgar but appropriate expletive.
Sitting up I remove the pillow from my face, take some deep breaths to calm down whilst telling myself to stop being a brat and to just own it, then open my eyes.
The bane of my life is leaning in the doorway wearing just a pair of white swim shorts, his athletic and well defined torso glistening beautifully with what I suspect is the suncream he is holding. His right shoulder against the door jamb, left foot over right ..... he appears very comfortable, as if he's been there for a while. I want the ground to open up and pull me down into the depths of hell, he witnessed my tantrum!
Why him of all people? I feel my heart rate quicken, my neck and face filling with blood. If green is the colour of envy and yellow the colour of cowardice then red is certainly the colour of embarrassment!
I'll be damned if I'm going allow him to see how horrified I am at my unscheduled peep show, so I hide behind anger, always my first line of defence when I feel threatened. Like a cornered animal I will always defend myself with aggression, with a heavy dose of sarcasm for good measure.
"Sure Yanni, just come on in, I don't need any privacy! Knocking is for wimps right?!" I snarl, dramatically gesturing with my arm that he should just come right in! I begin to rise from the bed as I feel vulnerable in this position. He is incredibly intimidating at all times, but more so when I'm sitting and he is standing and smirking smugly like right now. God, he infuriates me!
Rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger he replies thoughtfully, "Hmmm..... knocking is a polite formality, designed to allow the person behind that door to prepare to receive a guest, maybe make themselves presentable to receive company... putting on clothes for example" he drawls, the smirk growing larger on his handsome as hell face, adding "I'm not the guest here, you are, and I saw no reason to knock, since I'm not polite, and we'd ALL just seen the goods after your little striptease. You're clearly body confident, and none of us are shy. I thought I'd come and offer you some suncream for those. I can massage it in for you too if you like!" he declares, pointing at my boobs as he heads rapidly towards me like a heat seeking missile, one eyebrow raised suggestively, the tip of his tongue barely visible at the corner of those smirking.... full ..... pink ...... plump ..... cushiony soft looking .....
NOPE!!
My face burns with embarrassment at the direction my thoughts were travelling in, and pure unadulterated anger consumes me, my eyes ablaze and my fists so tightly clenched at my sides I wince at the pain in my palms, my nails penetrating my skin!
"You wish! Im not that easy and I did NOT put on a show for you, those fucking blinds opened on their own, which by the way, I'm sure someone could have warned me about before now! My dress got stuck because of my sunscreen and ... no..... you know what?" I declare loudly, raising my hand and pointing my index finger at his still approaching form.
"I don't have to justify myself to you! I don't need your suncream, your assistance or your disapproving attitude. I'm a grown woman and if I want to bare my body I will, but know this... YOU will never see me naked. I have more self respect and self worth than that. You are the last person I'd allow to touch me! Now, if you don't mind....." I gesture towards the door implying he leave.
Yanni has covered the space between us fully and he is now directly in front of me, just centimetres from my body. I can smell his sunscreen, hear his low breathing and feel the heat of his skin on my face. "When did I mention touching you? Hmmm? That's obviously something playing on your mind Sydney. Tell me, are you saving that experience for Jimmie? Or maybe he's had it already?" he purrs, leaning forward and speaking directly into my ear. I visibly shudder at the sensation of his breath on my neck as he places a hand on my shoulder and closes the already minuscule distance between us further, my nipples now grazing his chest, the friction of his chest on mine awakening them, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, and sending chills throughout my entire body.
My throat feels as though it is constricting every time I inhale or exhale, threatening to close off completely, so dry with anxiety and nerves I'm afraid I will suffocate right here before him.
Not if I can bloody well help it!!
My stubbornness means that I won't allow him the satisfaction of seeing me in discomfort, so I again summon all the fury I can muster, adjusting my posture and lowering my voice to give weight to my following words, to show him my strength and power, because something about Yanni makes me feel weak, small and in danger, and I refuse to let him see that. Through gritted teeth I tell him,
"If I had, or am planning to, its none of your business anyway Yanni, now please, will you just go away?! I've got work to do, and absolutely zero desire to share space with you any longer" I repeat, pushing him away and crossing my arms over my chest protectively, hiding the evidence of how his presence has affected me, again pointing at the door.
Continuing to glare at him, hopeful my expression conveys my disdain for him and my anger at him, I feel the acid in my stomach heating up, my insides spasming periodically. I imagine beautiful and graceful fantail goldfish leaping from their bowl in terror and panic as their water heats up after being placed over an open flame! This man makes me feel... mainly negative things, but for the first time in a good few years I can recognise feelings, and that in itself has to be good right?!
The thawing of the ice palace i sealed myself inside after my divorce maybe?!
Tense seconds follow, during which we both appear to be trying to read the others expressions. I can almost hear the cogs in his head turning, no doubt trying to formulate a new insult or derogatory comment. Perhaps some more inappropriate questions or suggestions are growing wildly like untamed blackberry bushes in his mind? He looks puzzled, as if considering what to do or say next, his thick brows knitting together above his nose, his lips pressed into a firm white line.
After what feels like hours he huffs out a short and sharp breath through his nose, the universally recognised sound of disapproval and disbelief, then beginning to chew on his thumb he mumbles,
"What a shame you choose to squander your talent and passion on writing salacious gossip and outright lies dressed up as fiction. You could be so much more. Such a waste"
He makes a 'tsk' sound, shakes his head then strolls back outside.
I really do dislike him...... so much!!
Don't I?!