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I notice that Vanessa is older than I had first thought, maybe five years older than me, although she looks like one of those people who will age well. She has that dark skin on which only fine lines appear with age, not deep set wrinkles. Maybe I am wrong, though. I’m pretty useless at the age-guessing game and I doubt there are many women in their late thirties who are still taking off their clothes in public in a dingy bar. Maybe it’s just the unforgiving morning light and I doubt I look as good as she does this morning that’s for sure.
I’m having trouble remembering all that occurred after last night’s sex on the floor incident and only some of it is coming back to me in flashes. I definitely can’t remember falling asleep. I know we had sex again here and I’m sure we talked as well for a while afterwards. A three-quarters empty bottle of vodka sits on the bedside table. I reach over for the half-smoked cigarette that also sits there and light it up. My moving about and coughing doesn’t seem to be making a difference to Vanessa’s sleep. Not that I’m in any desperate hurry for her to wake up.
Baxter’s spare room, which is probably one of many in this house, is like a luxury hotel room, all soft furnishings, pastel coloured decor and the huge double bed with its crisp white sheets. For some reason a fisherman’s lobster basket hangs from the roof in the corner of the room. Inside the basket, a stuffed monkey grabs the wire, its teeth bared, its dead eyes stare directly at the bed, at us.
The morning light – I’m assuming it’s still morning – is filtering into the bedroom through the half closed wooden shutters, but the room is still slightly dark. The large window looks out onto Portobello Road but I can’t hear anyone setting up their Sunday stalls, so it must still be pretty early. Maybe not. Fuck it, I’m too tired to be bothered about the time or search for my mobile phone to find out. Other issues try to break into my mind but I pushing them away.
My normal stance in finding myself in this sort of situation would be to get out of here as quickly as possible. I could even make a quick getaway without waking Vanessa. But, come on, I’ve done nothing wrong...last night was great and it’s not as if I’m cheating on anyone with a one night stand. What do I need to make a quick escape for?
I lay my head back down on the pillow and exhale cigarette smoke. My eyes start to feel tired again and I move closer to Vanessa, leaning in against her back. She stirs slightly, takes my arm and pulls it over her waist and then pulls it again and puts my hand under her chin.
I could use a couple of hours more sleep.
“Cal, Cal! Come on, wake up. You have to see this.”
“I’ve seen it, it’s a stuffed monkey.”
“What are you talking about? Come through here.”
I look up and catch Vanessa disappearing out of the room. My head is really banging now and for a minute I consider taking a quick slug from the vodka bottle, but decide against it. Why is it so cold in here? I’m sure Baxter can afford to heat every one of these huge rooms. I pull on my jeans and t-shirt and have to immediately sit down on the bed again as dizziness hits me.
Vanessa is laughing in the other room and I can hear Baxter shouting something.
“What happened?” Although this situation really doesn’t need much explaining.
I enter Baxter’s bedroom to be greeted with the sight of him lying on his back on the bed. Both of his arms are tied to the headboard and silver duct tape is hanging from his mouth.
“Stop laughing, you fuckers. I’ve been like this all night. She’s gone, she left me like this. Untie me.”
“Where’s my mobile phone? I’ve got to get a picture of this,” I laugh.
“What? Don’t you dare, you prick. If you do, you’re fired. I’m aching all over. Just untie me.”
Vanessa is doubled over. “It was a good night then? Maria was more than you bargained for. She is mad.”
“Mad is an understatement,” shouts Baxter. “She’s definitely not Maria full of fucking grace that one.”
I tug at the flex tied round his wrists but this requires a knife or scissors. Vanessa offers to look for some in the kitchen.
“Well, she’s good at tying knots, I’ll give her that. Why did you allow her to leave you like this, you mad bastard?”
“I didn’t. I must have passed out. When I woke up and she was gone. My hands are dead. I can’t feel anything in them.”
“Maybe she was trying to get the blood flowing to another part of your body.”
“It was a good night though, wasn’t it? My dick feels like it’s been rubbed against a cheese grater.”
“I’m not too sure that’s the international sign of a good night, but whatever turns you on I guess. I wonder why she didn’t untie you before leaving. Maybe she thought it would be funny. Hey, you’d better hope she hasn’t taken any pictures of you on her mobile.”
“It’s not as if I have a wife or family she can blackmail me with, is it? You need to get her phone number from Vanessa. I’m definitely seeing her again.”
Vanessa returns with scissors and I cut Baxter free from his self-imposed bondage. He rubs his wrists, trying to get the blood flowing.
Once free, Baxter stands up from the bed to face us, completely naked. “That’s better. Now, do you two fancy some Sunday morning Buck’s Fizz?”