Coconuts and Wonderbras Read Free Page B

also decide to chuck Toby after the Christmas party. A few seconds after these great decisions are made he leans across and plonks his frozen lips onto mine, and I melt, that is my frozen heart melts. I find myself saying breathlessly,
        ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
        ‘I love you Libby. You do trust me don’t you?’
    I nod. Issy sucks in her breath and mumbles something which sounds very much like ‘prick’ before bundling me into the taxi. Maybe I can give Toby another chance. After all, not answering his phone is not concrete proof he is seeing someone else is it? I really should stop jumping to conclusions all the time. Issy tells me the answer to all my problems is a good shag, and I don’t think she necessarily means with Toby either.
        ‘You’re not getting enough,’ she says knowingly.
    How Issy ever got a job as an agony aunt is beyond me. I shake my head in despair.
        ‘Right, I’m taking you to Dirty Doug’s ,’ she announces.
    Don’t panic, it isn’t anywhere near as disgusting as it sounds. Issy is a bad advice columnist but not that bad a friend. Dirty Doug’s is the new ‘in’ place in town and not a male prostitute about to give me the shag of my life. I really don’t want to go, but all that awaits me back home is Gordon Ramsay and my rusty old vibrator, affectionately known as Orlando Broom. How sad is my life? So with that thought in mind, I agree. We fight our way through the throng to the bar. So here we are. A typical Saturday night where the girls are slinging back their Smirnoffs and Appletinis, while doing quick mirror touch-ups.
        ‘What do you want?’ Issy shouts above the deafening Christmas music.
    To leave seems the best choice.
        ‘A red wine,’ I scream back, thinking I really should say ‘diet coke’.
    I step back onto someone’s foot.
        ‘Shit,’ mumbles the man behind me, ‘and a Happy Christmas to you too.’
        ‘Sorry,’ I mumble.
        ‘Plenty of talent here,’ Issy observes, slamming the drinks down and flopping into a chair.
    I sip from my glass and watch as droplets fall carelessly onto my white top. I watch Issy shove cheese and onion crisps into her mouth without any fear of retribution. I crunch a cashew nut and look for the toilets.
        ‘I’m going to find the loo,’ I shout above Wham’s Last Christmas .
    After trudging up two flights of steps and along a narrow corridor I finally find it. Christ, no wonder no one else is about. It’s freezing up here. I quickly pee and dash straight out only to collide with the most handsome man. I feel like I have been hit by a truck, in more ways than one. I attempt to steady myself, fail miserably and rely on his strong arms to save me, which they do.
        ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.’
    God, there’s enough of me. Which bit of me didn’t he see? He speaks in one of those clipped upper-crust voices. You know, public schoolboy type although I can assure you, he is not in the least schoolboyish. His voice is deep and as smooth as silk. He seems to have muscles where I didn’t know you could have muscles. It’s like he came out of nowhere and I’m beginning to wonder if I have come face to face with God himself, he is so perfect. Maybe I am having one of those epiphanies. Good Lord, and I practically fell at his feet. Madam Zigana gets more impressive by the minute. Dishes like this don’t come my way very often, at least not the human kind. This dark haired, blue eyed one seems to have dropped from heaven. He hangs his jacket over one shoulder and his starched white shirt dazzles me, making me wonder if he has shares in Daz. I thought Toby was attractive in a white shirt, but this vision in front of me is irresistible. It’s all I can do to stop myself from ripping the dazzling shirt off him. What am I thinking of? I’m in love with Toby, aren’t I? He looks questioningly at me, and I realise I am staring unashamedly.