Two weeks later, I’m standing in Macy’s, suddenly aware it’s definitely the wrong place to go for sexy underwear, especially on a Saturday afternoon two weeks before Christmas. The place is in bits and almost everything is seamless and flesh-coloured, which I’d normally be all over but not today. Sadhbh told me before she left for Dublin that if I want my nudes to be ‘spicy’ the best thing to do is start with lingerie layers and take it off bit by bit. She said it’s basically like doing a striptease, only through pictures. Lads go wild for it. Then she got out her phone and tried to show me some examples from her own camera roll. I had to beg her to put it away. We’re close but I don’t need to see her in her pelt, thank you very much.
I give up and go home where I rifle through my underwear drawer before my eye falls on the floral M&S set that I wore in the Plaza that really got John going. God, am I really doing this? On the first day of my period when I’m bloated and have three new spots on my chin? Through the wall I can just about make out Candice wailing about the devil’s ability to trick good God-fearing people into sinning. For a second, I wonder if he’s pulled the wool over my eyes and then I remember, no, I’m definitely acting of my own free will here. I want to get John’s blood pumping. That’s why we’ve made this little WhatsApp date. It’s been nearly a month since we’ve seen each other in the flesh and I’m missing that flesh something fierce, especially at night when I’m reading his texts about how much he misses me and wants me. Bloated and crampy or not, I want him too.
Per Sadhbh’s advice, I’ve thrown my fears about fire safety out the window and a floaty scarf over my little reading lamp to give the room a soft glow and now, kneeling on the bed holding the phone above my head, I agree that the light is fairly flattering. I pull the bobbin out of my low ponytail and shake out my hair so it falls around my shoulders in what I hope is a sort of tousled, bedhead way. Not bad. I try to lean back on my heels but my hamstrings are screaming, so instead I sort of recline on my side and let one bra strap fall off my shoulder. Okay, better, although I get a stitch almost immediately. How do glamour models do it? And make it look so easy? I have a new respect for Jordan. I set the time on my phone and snap a couple of shots like that, hiding my discomfort and doing my best pout, and then unhook the bra entirely and throw it across the room. Next, I lie on my tummy and attempt Majella’s favourite trick of squeezing the boobs together with my arms. She swears it brings her up two whole cup sizes, and she’s not exaggerating. I take a few more shots in that position and another one over my shoulder and another one with my finger on my nipple. For a second, I even consider taking off the knickers and doing some full frontal, but I quickly get a grip and put back on my Winnie the Pooh pyjamas and fleece dressing gown and pour myself a glass of Pinot Greej.
His text arrives at 6 p.m. on the dot.
Well, Ais, how was your Saturday? Was just in Maguire’s for a pint. Told Titch and Cyclops my gym idea and they both said they’d join. Sound! Sharon says hello. She and Cyclops did Fairytale of New York on the karaoke. Brought the house down X
Hey, that’s great news about the gym. And the karaoke. All quiet here. Did my washing and went to the shops for a few bits. Wrecked after last night. Mandy is in London so myself and Aubrey were holding down the fort. The Divorcees against Gum Disease Gala went off without a hitch TG X
No better women. No big Saturday night plans to go out with the rest of the gang there later so? X
Tara has tickets to some boxing match in Madison Square Garden but I’m happy enough staying in. Just chilling with a glass of wine now X
Ah sounds so nice. Wish I was there x
Wish you were too, John x
I miss you so much, Ais. Seriously, this is torture. I can’t stop thinking about you. About us in the Plaza. You were so hot x
You were pretty hot yourself if I recall! X
Do you have any pics? I know you said you’d take some but no pressure. I’d love to see you x
I do actually. Here you go x
I throw a black-and-white filter on one of the first ones where I’m on my side and hit send. I don’t know why I feel nervous – it’s not like he hasn’t seen me in the nip hundreds of times. There’s a pause and then he’s typing. Typing. Typing.
Ais, you look incredible. Your tits are unreal xxx
I examine the picture and feel a flush of pride. They do look good. When I think of the years I spent listening to WeightWatchers Maura shite on about points and boot-cut jeans being slimming and worrying about my body and what people thought of me I feel sad for that version of myself. But John always made me feel sexy, even in my BGB Gaels jersey and O’Neill’s. Especially in my BGB Gaels jersey and O’Neill’s.
Thanks. Do you have anything for me? X
After a second his picture appears. I recognise the armchair. He’s lying back and his jeans are open. I can see his boxers. The look he’s giving the camera can only be described as mischievous. He’s such a ride.
Jesus, you’re in the sitting room with your fly down! What if your parents walk in?
It’s after 12 here, they’re in bed ages. Have you got anything else for me, Ais? You’re really turning me on here x
This time I take a drink and send him the over-the-shoulder one.
Ais, tell me you’re wearing that underwear now, are you? You’re driving me wild x
I glance down at my dressing gown. There’s a little red tomato-sauce stain on my boob shelf from when I had a slice of pizza earlier.
Yeah, I am. It’s a bit chilly x
I send on another one, the boob squeezing. I don’t even put a filter on it.
Fucking hell. I wish you were here, Ais x
Then before I change my mind, I fire off the finger-on-nipple one for good measure because why the hell not? In for a penny and all that.
I wish I was too x