Destined to Play, Feel, Fly Trilogy Read online

  ‘You know I’d love to, but unfortunately I have other plans for after the lecture.’

  ‘Of course you have, my dear, one can only ask.’

  For some reason, a nervous laugh escapes me, as if I’ve been caught off-guard.

  ‘I’m actually meeting an old friend from my undergrad days; you may remember him. Jeremy Quinn?’ I try very hard to keep my tone neutral — difficult when the mere mention of his name makes my heartbeat quicken.

  ‘Yes, indeed I do. Dr Quinn is taking the medical world by storm I hear, causing all sorts of waves and excitement in the US in connection to his research on depression. He’s working with Professor Applegate, is he not?’

  I should have known Samuel would be more up to speed than I was in relation to what’s hot in global academia.

  ‘I believe so, albeit from an article, not from him personally.’

  ‘Send him my best regards. A very talented man, that Dr Quinn. No doubt there will be many a pharmaceutical company keen for his research. He certainly won’t have any of the funding concerns that constrain us, lucky chap.’

  I’m not sure I fully comprehend this connection as my mind automatically shifts into gear for the lecture just moments away.

  ‘Will do and thanks for everything, Samuel. It’s been wonderful catching up with you again. I wish you and your team the very best. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.’

  Suddenly, given the discussion at lunch, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure whether that was an appropriate comment or not!

  ‘Indeed my dear. Go forth and conquer.’ We hug farewell and I head to the lectern for my imminent presentation.

  What a beautiful Friday afternoon in Sydney, everyone basking in glorious sunshine. This city can really turn it on when it needs to. The harbour is sparkling with yachts and ferries merrily bouncing along, the colours are sharp and bold and the city is bustling. Office workers are gearing up for the weekend with such a vibrant beginning, as they head off to drinks along the harbour foreshore. I see some ‘beautiful people’ bouncing along for cocktails, laughing and smiling with a buoyant swing in their step. They look like they have just stepped out of Vogue magazine. I remember when I was one of those girls, focusing on career but as carefree as the wind, with the luxury of time and whispers of what the future might hold caressing every interaction. The main priority occupying our minds then was wondering how the weekend would unfold from twilight onwards and which cocktail to choose first.

  It was on one of those nights that my relationship with Jeremy transformed from best friends constantly mucking around with each other to a high-octane sexual one. As the taxi drives past the key visual triggers where it all started in the city, I can’t help but remember the carnal lust and intensity we shared; the impact of such memories makes me squirm in my seat.

  Back then, I had just started vacation work with one of the big four banks in the city. The job wasn’t that exciting but the people were fun and it provided me with some much-needed cash during the summer holidays. It was great to be free from study for a few months and I was secretly thrilled to be wearing a suit and high heels, and mum had bought me a sensational new handbag, which I still have today …

  ‘Hi, Jeremy, I’m just going out to my first official corporate work function —’

  ‘Yeah, I’m excited. I’ll be at the Wentworth and will be meeting the girls at nine-ish for a drink and a boogie.’

  ‘Sure, grab them and come along. We’ll meet you there.’

  ‘No worries. Cool. See you later then.’

  I hang up the phone.

  He seems really keen to catch up with us all. Hmm, I think secretly, I wonder if he likes Eloise, most guys do … maybe I should mention something … The girls think she is going through a phase of exploring the other side, i.e. chicks, but we haven’t been able to confirm or deny the rumour … I’m sure she’ll tell us either way when she is ready. No, I confirm to myself, keep out of it, what will be, will be …

  These corporate functions are cool because you get free food and drinks. We stay for a while, then decide it is time for our real Friday night to begin. We pack up and head to the club, where it’s straight to the ladies room to discard jackets, our pantyhose, undo a few buttons, plump up our cleavage, puff our hair, reapply mascara, eyeliner and lipstick. We reappear audacious and revamped, ready to embrace the evening.

  The music is pumping and given we have already had a few sparkling wines, we hit the dance floor — as only a group of girls can do. I’m lost in the music, dancing with my eyes closed, when strong hands grasp my hips and pull me backward toward their body. Instinctively, I know Jeremy has arrived and happily gyrate into his swivelling hips in time to the music. For some reason, we are in complete sync on the dance floor, our bodies are moving as one. It’s hard not to get lost in the feel of his body against mine, the pounding music creating a heady atmosphere around us. This is hot with a capital H! I almost feel as if I am magnetically drawn to him; some strange pent-up energy between us makes me unwilling to let him go … Something has shifted between us as I look into his darkened eyes, utterly mesmerised by the intensity of his being. What is wrong with me tonight? My hormones seem to be locked in lust overdrive.

  The music is too loud to hear his words, so he grabs my hand and leads me in a determined path off the dance floor to one of the shadowed corners of the club where the music is slightly muffled. He pushes me gently back against the wall and places his hands either side of my shoulders, his presence pinioning me against the wall. In his fitted black shirt, his body looks toned and hot and his face is glistening, close to mine, due to our heroics on the dance floor. It takes me a moment to catch my breath as I allow myself to become lost in his seductive presence. It is as if my eyes have been opened for the first time as his sexual magnetism overwhelms and draws me in. I open my mouth slightly to ensure enough oxygen is getting to my brain.

  ‘I don’t think I can keep my hands off you any more, AB.’

  He honestly looks like he is pushing his hands harder into the wall to keep them away from me.

  ‘Then don’t.’ Emboldened by this swelling of lust and desire, I’m sure I must be producing alluring sexual pheromones.

  I pull his right palm off the wall, bring it to my lips, give his middle finger a gentle kiss and slowly slide it over my breast. His eyes widen as I continue its journey lower until it finds the secret passage under my skirt. I part my legs slightly, never breaking eye contact, and slide his finger past my knickers and lead him directly to my sweet spot.

  ‘Jesus, Alex, you are so wet.’

  ‘Hmm. I am. Do you have a solution for my problem?’

  The shock on Jeremy’s face is truly priceless and I have to admit, I never expected those words to leave my mouth, but they’re out now. We are both a little stunned as we continue to silently question each other to ascertain a true sense of this new reality.

  Seemingly compelled to action, Jeremy immediately removes his hand leaving a draft in his wake, grabs my wrist and strides so fast back toward our friends, I am almost stumbling along behind him. I hope I haven’t offended him … maybe I shouldn’t have said that …

  He stops suddenly and I slam into his body. Jeez!

  He grabs my handbag, marches straight to the dance floor and shouts something in my friend’s ear, so she waves and smiles at me. I raise my eyebrows at her and shrug my shoulders as I give her a wave before I am just as suddenly whisked away and out the front door of the club.

  ‘What are we doing?’

  No response. Jeremy is in action mode.

  He readjusts his hand from my wrist to clasping his fingers through mine as we charge down the street. My ears are still ringing from the noise of the club.

  ‘Are you not talking to me?’ Maybe he is as mad as hell. Oh dear, what was I thinking? Maybe I’ve ruined our whole friendship.

  We are striding uphill and I’m panting to keep up with him. We seem to be heading toward the botanical ga
rdens. When we reach grass, he swoops down, lifts me over his shoulder and walks silently under the moonlight before depositing me in a standing position under a particularly large tree. He drops my handbag to the ground, immediately cupping my face with his hands and devouring my mouth with such ferocity I’m forced up against the tree. His body anchors me in position and I’m wild with lust for him. He pulls a condom out of his pocket, unbuttons his jeans in record time, slides it on … this is the first time I have seen Jeremy’s penis and even though it is dark, what a sight. His eyes have returned from their carnal state when he registers my look with a mischievous grin.

  ‘Ready?’

  I nod in greedy agreement.

  He hitches my skirt up to my waist, lowers my knickers to my feet, bending my knees to free them from underneath my shoes and stuffs them in his pocket … Interesting, I can’t help but think, kinky but interesting!

  He hoists my legs up to wrap around his waist and I curl my arms tight around his neck with my back against the enormous trunk of the tree. It’s rough and bark pokes into my satin blouse. I briefly hope that it doesn’t rip the fabric but realise at this point, I don’t care either way. He pauses before I nod again, confirming that I am more than ready for this, beyond ready, as if we have been teasing and tantalising and playing with each other platonically for far too long. The sexual electricity between us needs to explode in order for it to begin — confirming that we both need this and we need it NOW.

  He slams into me.

  And it is glorious!

  And he does it again …

  And it is more glorious …

  And again!

  And again!

  He impales me.

  And I am loving it.

  I stare up at the moon and release my howl in honour of its magnificence, of our magnificence. He explodes inside me as our carnal desire for each other is finally given physical recognition.

  Could anyone see us? Did anyone see us? Do I care …

  We lay on the grass for hours with each other, wondering at each other, talking and playing and laughing and teasing. Until the night lightens and dawn breaks. It’s as if we have been in a void of time. We stumble into a taxi together; I fall asleep on his shoulder and find myself tucked in my bed a few hours later. My first time with Jeremy is confirmed to be a reality and not a dream by the twigs in my hair and grass stains on my shirt. My knickers apparently never made it home …

  I let out a sigh. Wow! I’m sure I am flushing and I know I’m wriggling around in my seat. I’m glad the driver hasn’t noticed. I smile to myself at the distant, delicious memory. I haven’t felt like this for years, well, probably since the last time I saw Jeremy alone. The fun days and carefree nights, no responsibilities — although we thought we had them at the time — no kids, no house, no mortgage … Would I honestly want life to be any different from what it is now? Not really, a bit more fun and carefree every now and then wouldn’t go astray, but I am reasonably happy with my life as it is now. Not my sex life admittedly, which has been less than average since Jordan was born, or pretty well non-existent if I’m perfectly honest. That thought is a shock. How have I missed this? Have I been too busy in life to notice this key element has gone missing? Isn’t it even more concerning that I haven’t considered it an issue? No wonder I’m sitting in the back of a taxi in a state of latent, lustful desire. A vision enters my mind of sleeping beauty awaiting her sexual awakening after decades of sleep, which is quite sweet until I realise her face is mine and the prince is Jeremy. But the kids, remember the kids … Would it be worth the risk? I resolutely block my mind from receiving any more of these unproductive thoughts.

  It feels good having the first lecture successfully behind me. The feedback and questions have given me more food for thought in respect to further investigative and academic research. I think ahead to my weekend. Catching up with my old school friends over a glass of wine, their careers, their social lives and family news. Who’s still with whom, who has moved on, and I’m sure there are a few more babies I have missed since being based in Tasmania. Then catching up with my siblings and nieces and nephews for a BBQ on Sunday. It’s a shame Jordan and Elizabeth won’t be there, as they love catching up with their cousins, but next time perhaps.

  With my trip down memory lane and thoughts about the weekend ahead, I’m a little surprised how quickly we have arrived at the destination. I quickly check my lipstick and hair and decide I will definitely need to refresh in the hotel lobby. As I pay the taxi driver, the butterflies previously asleep in my stomach announce their tumultuous arrival and my palms moisten as I gather my bags together.

  That memory has certainly destabilised me more than I would have liked. Stay calm and composed, you are a professional, married woman, a mother of two … Enough with the self-talk!

  I head straight through the lobby of the five-star hotel to the ladies room in an attempt to stabilise my stomach. What is going on with me today? I shake my head and try to pull myself together. The tingle down below is certainly not helping to calm my nerves nor my ability to control my physiology. Quite frustrating to say the least. How is it that I felt perfectly comfortable lecturing to hundreds of people just hours ago, yet now my fingers are trembling so badly that I can barely unwind my lipstick?

  I gaze into the mirror while both hands grip the basin. I notice the slight wrinkles around my eyes. Were they there last time I saw Jeremy? Maybe I should have taken my friend’s advice and given Botox a try, in her words ‘before it’s too late!’ I shudder at the thought of it. I can’t stand anything around my eyes let alone the idea of an injection piercing through such sensitive skin. Oh well, I think to myself, I’ll just have to put up with what I see in the mirror until they come up with something a little less invasive.

  Distracted and flustered, I can’t decide whether to leave my hair up or take it out. I’m grateful my hair is still dark and as yet I haven’t managed to find a random grey strand, although I’m sure that day isn’t far off. I figure I will stay with the more professional look and leave it up; I am in a suit after all. Right, all ready to go, or at least as ready as I will ever be. Not too bad for thirty-six. I take a final glance in the mirror, and think it could certainly be worse, as I desperately search for a positive spin. Deep down, I am very much looking forward to catching up with Jeremy. So I let myself run with that emotion as my mind takes me on another quick trip down memory lane …

  Jeremy and I were at university together, although he was two years ahead of me. My cousin introduced us during my first year, as they were both in the same water polo team. I’m not absolutely sure how our acquaintance evolved but he was a lot of fun and as we spent more and more time together we eventually became best friends, almost by default. As time went by we explored drinking, drugs and sex — as many uni students do. Partners came and went throughout our years of study but we were always there for each other, first and foremost. It was difficult for people to describe, let alone determine, our relationship with each other, more than likely because it was also impossible for us. After a while, our friends didn’t bother to try and label us and just accepted that Jeremy and I would be friends forever, whatever came our way. Funnily enough, over time, we eventually accepted it too …

  Life took us in different directions post-university. Jeremy continued his studies before getting his pilot’s licence and joining the flying doctor service for a truly Australian outback experience, which he loved and I was always a little jealous of (the pilot’s licence anyway). I worked in London focusing on building strong financial foundations before further exploring psychology in the workplace.

  We caught up in various locations around the globe over the next decade, particularly in Europe where his medical research brought him regularly to London. We had many short fun-filled flings that are treasured memories, before we embarked on the serious responsibilities of life. Although we knew our relationship was significant in our lives, we understood that it would never be long-ter
m, or at least I knew that Jeremy was far from ready to settle down, unlike me. It was the ‘unspoken word’ between us, although, deep down, we knew it to be a fully acknowledged reality.

  His career was of paramount importance to him and I desperately wanted to start a family and our differing worlds drifted apart. Jeremy was offered a lucrative research scholarship at Harvard to further his studies and moved to America. I met my English husband, Robert, in London and we returned together to Australia. I knew I needed to put my explicit sexual past with Jeremy behind me and settle down to start a family and pursue my career academically. Which is exactly what I did.

  Although we caught up for the odd dinner here and there, for the next decade or so, we were essentially on opposite sides of the planet. And our lives continued separately …

  I pull my mind back to the here and now and tell myself firmly that camping out in the ladies is just wasting the precious time we will have together — so get moving! I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, straighten my shoulders, hold my head high, swing open the door and walk confidently out toward the man who is my best friend and my ex-lover.

  As my eyes sweep the lobby bar, my confidence evaporates as quickly as it had been conjured up — he is not here. Disappointment washes over me with such ferocity, I have to lower my hand to the lounge to maintain my standing position. Typical, I think to myself; I started the day with butterflies and ridiculous thoughts, like a teenager anticipating seeing their ultimate pop idol for the first time, and ended it talking to myself in the ladies room of a flash hotel.

  I do know how hectic Jeremy’s life is and that his schedule is ever-changing. Of course it would be highly unlikely for him to catch up with me just because we both happen to be coincidentally in Sydney this weekend. I am disappointed that I have wasted so much nervous energy for nothing, yet a part of me feels pleased that I am still able to feel those sensations when I had thought they were long gone. It serves me right really; I should have stayed and had drinks with Samuel and his colleagues. But I eagerly declined knowing I would be meeting with Jeremy and didn’t want to be late.