I could see the Edge, standing by the lift, looking out over the St Pancras concourse, waiting for me, but he didn’t see me until I had bobbed up beside him, with a cheery greeting.

“Hello to you too,” he grinned, grabbing my pony-tail and twisting my head back to kiss me roughly on the lips, muffing my squeals of protest. Then he marched me into the bar, where he sat me down next to him and poured me a glass of pink champagne. I took a long sip and then attacked a small bowl of mixed nuts with ravenous gusto.

“Uncle Sweetheart didn’t feed you?” he asked quizzically.

“He did, actually,” I paused to remember. “But that was, like, an hour and a half ago…”

He watched in silence for a couple of minutes as I shamelessly devoured all the nuts and washed them down with a gulp of champagne.

“Tell me something wonderful,” he said.

“How about this?” I took out my telephone, and showed him a photo.

“Who is that?” he asked disdainfully. “Looks like Prince Harry.”

“Yes, well, it’s an old photo.”

“I can tell. You and your thing for red-heads…”

“He isn’t a red-head.”

“He is.”

“He isn’t.”

He fell silent again, and then said, “Did you fuck him?”

I swallowed nervously. I had pretended I hadn’t. But there was really no point lying…

“Yes,” I admitted.

He slapped me sharply across the face.

I shrieked, and then, overcome with embarrassment, glanced quickly at the table in front of us, where a family sat squabbling over their lunch, as families do. But somehow, thankfully, no-one seemed to have noticed the outrageous scene unfolding before them.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I gasped.

“But you know you loved it,” he said nonchalantly. “I could feel your whole body vibrate when my hand met the side of your face…”

I drained my glass in shame.

“How much time do you have before your train?” he asked.

“45 minutes.”

“That’s long enough for me to fuck you. Shall I get us a room?”

“WHat? Nooo! I must remain chaste for my new lover!!” I grabbed my coat. “Actually I think I’d better check in now, security’s a nightmare…”

“Chaste for her new lover…” he muttered to himself as he watched me stumble clumsily through the gate at the Eurostar platform. “Wonder how long that’s going to last.”


4 thoughts on “Something Wonderful

  1. Oh, so Edge knows about Uncle Sweetheart, but does Uncle know about Edge? You lead a very entertaining life, if you don’t mind me saying so. {wink}
    We are looking forward to your email, you have no idea how much we are.


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