This telephone call hasn't been going on long, but it's already turning into a justification for the existence of pubs everywhere.
"How's Monday for you?"
"Not sure, there's..." blah, blah, blah...
Look, idiot, you are the only thing standing between me and an evening spent with a hot, curvy woman from Buxton who needs to know in advance so she can make up a decent excuse to her boyfriend why she needs to be in London.
"Is it all right if I phone you tomorrow, Mon?"
"Sure, but I need to know soon so I can make arrangements..."
"Right. I'm sorry about all this..."
My mind wanders. I think about my fingers, slowly sinking into Libby's pussy. She gets very wet very easily. I think about her, reclining on the bed, naked except for a blindfold, and I speculate idly how good her pussy would look shaved completely bare. Her soft, freckled skin, smooth to the touch. The way the full lips of her labia fold protectively in on themselves in a demure straight line, the sensitive pink pucker of her anus when she's kneeling, spread, arse raised...
"...blah blah blah, wait until Monday. Does that work for you?"
Yes, if that means I can turn my phone off and tell everyone I'm out of town while I enjoy the pleasure of Libby's mouth, pussy and arse - possibly not in that exact order.
"It'll have to. Let me know as soon as you can."