Free A Perfect Life by Raffaella Barker

literally more than metaphorically. He is lounging in the lobby waiting for Carrie to come out of the Ladies’ lavatory. She could have used the one in his room, but she didn’t even glance through the door at it – quite unusual for a girl.
    Is it unusual for a girl to come and have sex in the afternoon with someone she has just met? Maybe not in America, which just shows how excellently his instincts were functioning when he conceived the plan of buying the apartment. Nick has never experienced this version of adultery before. It seems a lot more practical and sensible than dating, and it’s exciting, too. Three hours in his hotel room with shadows from the tops of trees outside moving on Carrie’s back when she lay on her elbows on the bed, looking at him, not talking, but playing with her hair and propping her feet one on top of the other. She had abikini mark slicing high across her arse and a tiny scar like a hidden pocket zipped shut on her hip bone and her skin was golden, soft and taut, everything skin should be. She smelled of fruit and daisies, not exotic and sultry, but clean and preppy. And what she could do with her mouth, her tongue, her lips, her hands. Mmmmm. This is what Nick is in New York for, affirmation that he is alive and successful. He may not have cracked the deal with the US elastic manufacturers, but he can fuck and ejaculate as well as the next man.
    Probably better, he thinks, remembering Carrie’s second orgasm, when he had her up against the hard-backed yet soft-surfaced suede wall. Oh yes. That was what it was all about. And she was so yielding, so open. Mmm, lust is a great feeling. With a flourish he turns his phone on and it beeps with a message. He listens to it, turning towards the window as Carrie comes out of the Ladies and stands next to him, fresh lip-gloss shining on her smile. He blinks at her and steps away a little, instinctively wanting his own space now he is focusing on the rest of the world again.
    â€˜Daddy, it’s Ruby and Foss. Please can you ring us? We want to know when you will be back and how do you make the car work when Mummy left the lights on? Also Jem isn’t letting us watch the big TV and Mummy says we have to sort it out ourselves. Love you.’
    It is only by taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes that Nick can keep from crying out in pain and rage. His head contracts as darts of guilt pierce him.He would like to double up and fold over but all his instincts and his whole life of male conditioning make him stand up taller, inflate his chest and take the blows. He only knows how to walk on, walk away, keep going and never let it show, never let it hurt. Never stop and hold pain because it could kill him. It’s just too big. A waitress from the hotel bar walks out of the Ladies door Carrie has just come through. She is blonde, tired but raunchy looking. Her bracelets rattle as she goes. Nick closes his eyes and inhales the air she moves through. There is a smell of musk and cigarettes and a metallic whiff of pharmaceuticals that sets his pulse racing through time. It fishes him out of his guilt and brings him back to here and now in a New York hotel lobby with his fingers smelling of sex. It’s time to get out and go to work, but there’s Carrie. What will she want to do now? Where is Carrie, anyway? He had forgotten her as he dealt with the message, and now she seems to have vanished. He looks around. In the same moment Carrie coughs a small, ironic cough from behind him and fishes into her bag for her phone. Glancing up sideways at him she smiles, and having got his attention, touches his arm and tiptoes to kiss him.
    â€˜I gotta go now, it was nice spending time with you,’ she says, and turns and walks out of the door, her phone clasped to one ear.
    No exchange of numbers, no ‘Will you call me?’ Just out of the door and into a cab. Nick looks after her and for a bittersweet moment regrets that