WARNING: Contains sexual references.

Megan gets a surprise wake up call.


I woke up to my phone vibrating on the bedside table. Print-offs were scattered across my bed and my laptop was dead on the floor beside it. I grabbed for my phone expecting my alarm and knocked it off the little table onto the floor. Muttering curses I bent over the edge of the bed and turned it over on the laminate, the sun through the gap in the curtains showed the smudges from my trainers.

It was after seven, I’d slept through my alarm. I picked the phone up and settle back against the pillows.

The buzz had been a text from Jimmy: I miss you.

I smiled and texted back: I thought you didn’t use your phone on the Sabbath.

I miss you 😦

I chuckled and spun the phone round, fingertips pressed to the corners, as I waited.

It buzzed impatiently. You’re not here, I have to use my phone.

I took my time typing: I’ll be there later.

There was a pause and I imagined him thinking up his reply, or making me wait on purpose. There’s a plumbing emergency.

I grinned. Oh aye, pull the other one.

My phone dinged. I’m not kidding. It’s like Everest in my pants over here.

I laughed and clapped my hand over my mouth. The house was quiet so Nan was either asleep or out. It wasn’t even eight o’clock on a Saturday, normally she’d be asleep but she’d gone out with Gerald the night before, she might not have come home. I wondered if I should peek at her bedroom door, if it was open she wasn’t in, to do that I’d have to sneak downstairs to the back of the house.

I sighed and looked at the heap of flat print-offs; the temptation of my own bathroom I could take as long as I wanted in and not having to fish recyclable stuff out the wrong bin.

I realised I’d left replying too long and sent back: Breaking the rules because you woke up with a stiffy. Tut. Tut.

In my mind’s eye he was smiling, showing his dimple as he typed. It doesn’t happen often anymore. It’s an event.

I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and shook with laughter. Have you forgot what to do with it?

I might have. His smile would’ve turned wicked, daring me across the line of words.

I shook my head. Aw, do you need instructions?

In the pause I imagined him frowning over the phrasing of his reply, not wanting to force the door open but not wanting to close it either. I loved that about him.

My phone dinged. Are you offering?

I took my time collecting up the papers and putting them on the top of the cabinet, making him wait. Once everything was tidy I texted: Isn’t that why you texted me, horny fucker?

His reply took so long I wondered if I’d pushed too far and jumped when my phone dinged again. Do you want a picture of the scale of the issue?

I imagined him licking his lips anxiously as he debated whether to send it. Jimmy was a sensible man, not a dick pic man.

I love your dick but I don’t need a naked picture of it. I considered then added: It’s memorable :O

He’d grin at that, if we’d been together he would’ve cupped my face and kissed me softly in a quiet question. I’d dig my fingers into his hair or wrap my arms around him and draw him closer in a gentle yes.

Ding. You’re making it worse.

I grinned, imaging him squirming. Ooops.

Ding. You’re not sorry.

I bit the tip of my stylus. #SorryNotSorry.

I love that about you. I love everything about you.

My heartbeat quickened. Was this the moment I was meant to say the words? In a text? Should I phone him back and say it? Could I say it? My mouth went dry at the thought and I swallowed. I felt it, I knew I did but saying it… saying it was something else, something solidifying and real. Saying it was opening gates I wasn’t sure were unlocked.

A failing in me, perhaps. He wasn’t like Rick, he was the exact opposite and yet…

I tapped my stylus on my bare knee, frowning at the screen.

Ding. I’m thinking about how much I’d like to love you right now.

I exhaled then pictured him rubbing his forehead thinking he’d pushed too far or said the wrong thing.

‘Fuck, Meg,’ I muttered. ‘You’ve done it before, it wasn’t difficult.’ A surprising amount of things were more difficult with the weight of experience than they were as fresh firsts. ‘Get it together, Megan. Get it together.’

I sucked my teeth. I’m sure you can love me all you want… later.

There was a pause and my stylus started tapping again. I’d mis-stepped, I was sure.

Ding. Please, Sir, can I come?   

I sat back, eyes closed, holding my phone tight to my chest. ‘Still in there, Meg. Still in there.’ I cleared my throat and typed: Well… You asked so nicely…

The phone rang. I gave it a few rings before I answered. ‘Fancy not being able to wait.’

‘I could wait for you forever,’ he said, without the slightest pause.

I put my fingers to my lips and swallowed the emotion that clogged my throat. ‘You’re fucking perfect, you know that?’

‘I’m not,’ he said in his soft, sexy play voice. ‘I’ve been very bad breaking the rules, there should be consequences.’

I smiled and set my stylus aside. ‘What kind of consequences?’


Feature image by Tinh Khuong on Unsplash

For more episodes of Take a Bite Cafe click here.

Published by Jesse

I'm a writer and academic specialising in fantasy fiction and creative writing theory. I'm allergic to pretentiously talking about fiction and aim to be unashamedly ‘commercial’. Surely all fiction is commercial anyway, or what’s the point in publishing it?

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