Game of Phones

"Wow."

"As quick as you can please guys."

She was still on her hands and knees. She felt exhausted. Two strong hands helped her up until she was sat on her sofa. She heard rustling and clothes and baritone murmurs. Then the squeak of her door being opened.

"Bye guys." She detected a touch of relief in Tyrion's voice, as if he could only now properly relax. "And thanks." There was a thud as her door

was closed.

And then there was an enormous silence.

5. NIGHT

He spent an hour, helping her down from the space she'd flown to.

He cooked her pasta and poured her red wine and dried the tears that arrived for dessert. She sobbed briefly but then it turned into more of an occasional snivel.

She had no idea why she was crying. She had just had what was probably the most intense orgasm of her life during the most intense experience of her life. Nobody had got hurt. Nobody regretted it. The sex had been safe, protected. Above all, the man she trusted had been here for her.

And yet.

He lit her a cigarette. She rarely smoked. It was only at moments like this that she enjoyed the rush that tobacco combined with alcohol gave her.

"Thank you." She told him, for a second time.

He had asked her to drop his 'Sir' handle at times like this. Somehow protocols seemed to trivialise such moments.

"It was a pleasure. Really."

"Was it?" she asked, feeling her lower lip tremble.

"My number 1 pleasure." He grinned.

And it was when he smiled at her that she realised the reason she was crying. The list. It was complete. They had filled her bucket list until it overflowed.

The game was over.

"Can I have my phone now?"

"Sure." He said, fishing his big hand into his jacket pocket and passing it over.

S

he stubbed out her cigarette, sipped her wine and punched in her password, bracing herself for the sight of the two men he'd picked to make her fantasy reality.

She thumbed her photos icon and flicked the camera roll.

"But ...?"

There were none there. The most recent photo was still one she'd taken of her best friend Izzy out shopping last week. He hadn't taken any pictures at all. Or he'd deleted them.

"Why?"

"I'm pretty sure you actually wanted to leave them just as in your fantasy. Invisible. Faceless. Strangers. White. Black. Asian. Handsome. Ugly. Dwarves. Who knows? Now you'll never know, will you?"

She stared at him. He was a fair bit older than her. But unlike Tyrion the dwarf, he was a big, cuddly bear and she lusted after him hugely.

"Well, actually I'm totally fucking sure that I would rather have been able to see them. You know, afterwards."

His mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk and he reached into his jacket pocket again.

This time he pulled out his own phone with an exaggerated wink.

"You bastard!"

They both laughed, their eyes shining. He held his arm high above his head, out of her reach. It was the first time he'd ever taken pictures with his own phone rather than hers.

She jumped up, trying to grab it, dancing around her tiny kitchen.

"What kind of fucking trick do you call this?" she giggled.

He finally relented and allowed her to pull his arm down and grab his phone to see the 20 explicit photos he'd taken of the moment when her ultimate fantasy came alive.

"Why," he replied with a shrug, "I guess we'll call it the game of phones."