“Look mate, let’s cut the crap shall we? I don’t know where she is, I don’t know when she’ll be back and I could really do without you up my arse all night, checking I’m doing my fucking job!” – it came out a little harsher than I’d anticipated, but still he held my gaze.
She nuzzles into my neck and brushes stray strands of hair from my face. She kisses the tip of my nose as my eyelids start to flutter closed.
My sleep is dreamless, I wake refreshed and warm in the pool of sunshine streaming through the windows. A lazy smile plays on my face as the memory of the evening floats into my mind.
But then again, I'm now a single mum to 2 kids, with no job, a fanny like a badly packed kebab and more tyres than fucking Kwik Fit! I may as well have, shit on my top – 'cos he is 6ft 1” of toned, sex on legs and I look like Mr Blobby on Crack!
I know its petty and perhaps at the ripe old age of 36, I should learn how to share but, I am sick to death of bounding excitedly to the cupboard to be presented with mere crumbs!
I’ve even started buying biscuits that I am certain they don’t like and STILL there is none left.
I just want a fucking cookie, is it too much to ask?