Holy shit. You will not literally BELIEVE the weekend I've had. Seriously. I don't even believe it. It's like a dream, something from somebody else's life. Stuff like this doesn't happen to me whatsoever - and now it has. I feel exhilerated, lighter than air, and above all - happy. Actually, sack that, I am absolutely fucking THRILLED. And 'scuse all the French, but there is no possible other way I can express myself so vociferously. Never mind walks in the park, bunches of flowers, sex on the floor or cuddly nights in with DVDs and munchies - he has done it this time. Well and truly topped the bill. How else can I put it - This. is. the. MOTHER LOAD. The All Time High. Numero Uno. The Queen. Head of State. Casino Royale. The Godfather. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah.
Where to begin? Well, FRIDAY afternoon of course......
So after a whole day's agonised pacing, pampering and re-packing, 4 oclock found me crouched on the bathroom floor, desperately trying to scrape hair removal cream off my legs with a spatula. Bloody "Veet." Word of advice - the only reason your legs end up so smooth is because you scratch them to shit trying to do it properly, and as for "Lotus and Jasmine" - try rancid fish that's been kept in an attic for a week. Still, for better or worse, it actually worked, my legs felt like silk (I know, cliche'ed. Actually had to fight the urge not to stroke them sensually, a' la adverts). I think they only become so smooth because you practically take the skin off your legs during the proceeds.
Mum dropped me off at the location in town - hindered by staggering amounts of roadworks, which left her in a towering temper, and me with only 1 minute to go till meeting. We speculated whilst sat in traffic what it could all be - she thought the lolly was a red herring, I joked that maybe he'd take me for a night in the Hilton. Eventually got dropped off at the square, which was ominously empty. I walked over with my suitcase, lolly in hand, and frankly, a little nervous. And then I saw him. With the Landlady's fierce warnings of; "Kat, love, you'd better fucking text me the MINUTE you find out what that lolly's for!" ringing in my head, I trailed over, waving and smiling. I presented the lolly like a trophy. He broke into a grin, took the lolly and turned around. I watched, heart pounding, as he turned to face a building behind me, gave a strange sort of signal, murmured; "Any minute now".....................................................
............... and then unwrapped the lolly, put it in his mouth, turned back round and said "Cheers. Let's go." Can you BELIEVE that??! It WAS a red herring!! I ran after him, shrieking, demanding explanations and whacking him with my spare hand, while he smiled and protested that "it DID serve a purpose" - because he just really really wanted a lolly. BASTARD!! I fished another out of my handbag and stomped along, furiously sucking (that sounds so dodgy) and muttering how he didn't quite seem to understand the magnitude of what he'd done, how long I'd spent madly pondering the meaning of the lolly - enlisting friends, family and employers to help.
As we rounded the corner, we passed the aforementioned Hilton. I had no idea how close it was to the city centre I knew so well - I'd never had any reason to visit this part of town before. As we gazed into the sky, trying to see the top of the building (impossible), I told Joe (mainly to take my mind off lollipop-related fury) how it's always the first thing you see when you re-enter the city, and on all those coach journeys home, I used to stare out the window at it and wonder if I'd ever become sucessful enough as an actor/scriptwriter to be able to spend just one night there. Even though I knew it was an impossible dream, but still, a nice one, nontheless. He nodded seriously as we walked past the foyer, able to stare into the lobby through the glass. And then, without missing a beat, he turned to me and said; "Well, shall we go in then?" I laughed, saying there was no WAY a place like that would let two scruffy people in just to explore. Straight-faced, he looked dead at me, and proclaimed: "They will if you have a room."
...........................................................................
Just to reiterate:
Joe. Booked a room. For us. For one night. At The HILTON.
THE HILTON.
THE HOTEL!!!
THE REALLY FAMOUS WORLDWIDE INCREDIBLY POSH ONE!!!
A NIGHT!!
AT THE MOTHERFUCKING HILTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can you fucking BELIEVE IT!!???!! I certainly couldn't. I stood there, gaping like a fish, as wave after wave of goosebumps crashed over me at the enormity of it all, unable to feel anything in my arms and legs. I asked if he was taking the piss, he smiled and held the door open. Numbly, I followed him, still (naeive, I know) waiting for him to turn round and say "Nah, I was actually just kidding. It was another red herring. Gotcha!" We walked up to the check-in point, and when he uttered the words; "Hi, I've got a reservation under the name of......" I damn near fainted. I stood staring at my incredible surroundings, mouth gracefully hanging open as the friendly receptionist smiled at my look of stunned disbelief, whispered; "Surprise was it, Sir?" and gave us our room key.
It was incredible. The lift travelled 8 floors in literally 3 seconds. He flung open the door to reveal a stunning, spacious room with HD ready (HD READY!!!), a double bed with feather duvet and about 16 pillows, a huge glorious painting of a wild flower, a glass coffee table, little armchair, green lamps, and most importantly - the most amazing view over the city I've ever seen. I rushed in like a charging bull, flattening myself against the window, screaming and taking in the surroundings. Joe laughed as I ran from room to bathroom, exclaiming over everything and touching nothing (I was scared to, if I'm honest). He joined me at the window where we gazed out, me saying idiotic things like "Look at those people down there. They're not in the Hilton! And WE ARE!!" and burbling about how stunned I was and how I simply couldn't believe it. I kissed him for about 25 solid minutes, thanking him every 3, and trying to hide the fact that I was on the brink of tears that someone would do this for me.
He seemed remarkably un-fazed by it all, to be honest. When I questioned him, asking what would prompt such a staggering, unbe-fucking-lievable gesture like this, he just shrugged and said he "wanted to treat me." He said I seemed so fed-up and miserable about being at home, being unemployed, Mum pecking my head constantly and being ill (hayfever and cystitis?? Hardly flu, is it?), and he wanted to take me away from it all for a night so I could relax, forget it all and enjoy myself. He also mentioned how shittily my ex treated me, and he wanted to show me that I deserve to be treated like a lady. When I asked why he didn't just whisk me away to a Travelodge or Premier Inn, he replied: "Well, if we're gonna do something like this, we might as well do it in style!" Jesus Christ. Is he LOADED or something?? And just as I was thinking this, he said; "By the way, didn't you see the present I requested?" and stepped aside to reveal a bucket on the desk filled with ice, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of Nicholas Feuillatte.
I think, Ladies and Gentlemen, at this point, I actually did go a little faint and had to go sit on the bed. For about 2 seconds, before I leaped up to partake in the champagne, which was actual real champagne, not even the Cava you get at Tescos! This was incredible. Presumably I missed it, as I whirled into the room, trying to see everything at once. We drank and gazed out at the view. Mum rang to find out what the lolly was for ("See! I TOLD you it was a red herring!") and to shriek and gasp as I had the old "Oh-my-god-Mum-you-won't-believe-where-I-am-right-now-remember-what-I-joked-about-in-the-car-that-one-in-a-million-chance-idea-well-it-actually-came-true-yes-that's-right-I'm standing-in-a-room-in-the-motherfucking-Hilton-drinking-champagne-and-overlooking-the-city!!!!!" conversation, Joe laughing his arse off in the background.
We hung out for a bit, (me still in shock) talking about the place and what it had to offer - using the telephones (there were THREE!!!) to call reception or room service for the tiniest, most pointless enquiries, just because we COULD. I fought the urge to jump on the bed and bounce around, so bounced around the room instead. We found out the place had a SWIMMING POOL, so after mopping up the mess after my head exploded, we trailed downstairs to check it out. Had to buy a cossie, but the pool was gorgeous, like swimming in a mill pond made of milk (but not, obviously, smelling of milk, that would be gross). I popped up and down out of the pool to wave at traffic below - Joe pointed out the buildings we could see and what they were. I floated dreamily down the length of the pool on my back, staring up through the glass ceiling at the rest of the Hilton and wondering what the hell I was doing there, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a girl like me to be in a place like that. We jumped into the Jacuzzi, me batting away his underwater advances (there was a security camera pointed at us) and gazed, laughing, at the pedestrians below, pointing out how none of them were in a jacuzzi in the Hilton and we were.
Back in our room we took the rest of the champagne into the shower (cliche'ed I know, but fuck it, you HAVE to do that in the Hilton!) and got ready for Phase 2 - which was a trip to a local concert hall to see a huge orchestra perform classical music! Didn't have time to straighten my hair (the chlorine fucked it up) but Joe looked gorgeous in his black tie, and I was confident that my dress and ALL Mum's borrowed stuff looked OK. At least I could walk in the shoes - which is more than can be said for MY shoe collection...... The orchestra were stunning, and as I sat with my eyes closed, listening to the sweeping melodies, I felt - there's only one word for it - chuffed. Beyond all belief.
We got back to the hotel about quarter to ten, where Joe revealed Phase 3 (the final phase) - dinner in the Hilton restaurant. Which apparently has a very strict dress code, hence the dress and black tie. I squealed excitedly, stuck the Music Channel on and helped finish the champagne - whilst attempting to body-pop and dance around an amused Joe, singing loudly along to Usher's "Caught up." We strutted downstairs at 10, looking very dapper and potentially classy - were I not figeting like crazy and saying "WOW!!" at everything. The restaurant was absolutely BEAUTIFUL, all dim lights, lovely tables and stunning ceilings. We were seated by a waiter who brought us Rose' wine, I (very expertly, I'd like to think) did the whole wine-inhalation before sipping. We never topped our own glasses up once. God, that waiter was fab. Had a slightly embarrassing moment when it came to the obligatory toast:
ME: "To the Hilton!"
HIM: "To you."
ME: "Oh sorry, and to you too, of course!"
Smooth (*smacks head*). But holy fuck-a-luck-a-ding-dong, wait till you hear what I had to eat. For starters: Scallop with creamy califlower sauce and rocket, Main Course: Half Lobster (LOBSTER!!) with potato wedges and garlic mayonaise. Dessert: A prim square of chocolate mousse so rich it had it's own postcode, and a scoop of peanut ice-cream. Obviously, everything came on small, pretentious little square plates and was very artfully arranged. But my god and sonny Jesus, it was exquisite. Had a brief moment of money-minded panic where I was torn over desperately wanting the lobster, but hating the idea of Joe handing over the equivalent of a few hours' wages on one course. But he urged me to do it, and "enjoy" myself. So I did. And I enjoyed it, from the moment I picked up my fork to the moment the lobster meat slid down my oesophagus (did I just spell that right? Sweet.......).
After dinner (which finished at midnight, eeep) we sauntered across the lobby, carrying our leftover glasses of wine, as we waltzed past the queue full of WAG-dressed schoolgirls (on some kind of do) all hoping to get the lift up to the executive lounge - where footballers etc.... hang out. As hotel guests, we could've easily jumped the queue, but at a rumoured £15 a cocktail and a welcoming room of our own waiting, we decided not to. Besides, the girls were all glaring at me for some reason. I'd like to think they were thinking:
"Mother of god, look at how stylishly that couple wear their elegance! Taking their wine up to their room - they must come here on a regular basis! I wish I could do that"
"Look at her dress...... wow. I wonder what it feels like to wear a dress that covers your thighs?"
But they were most likely thinking "Crikey, look at the size of her bottom!" or "Why isn't she wearing a WAG dress?? She mustn't be with us....."
Up in the room, after getting Room Service to bring some Diet Cokes, I decided to open the bag of "props" I packed, and finally give him a proper thank you. Even thought he insisted he wasn't doing all this for repayment, and even though I wanted to, what sprung to mind was that "Family Guy" Diamonds spoof - he booked me a room at the Hilton..... I pretty much HAD to. We eventually fell asleep at 4am (Mmmmm...... Hilton sex.....) in the comfiest bed known and created by all mankind. I know I've said this before, but this really was the mother load. Cream of the crop. Field of Dreams. Oh, let's not start all that again, the point is, it was like sleeping on a cloud. It would almost have been a dream come true, were it not for the snoring. A few pokes and staring straight into his eyes until he woke up (freaked out) seemed to work.
SATURDAYWoke up knackered, but thrilled as I realised I was in a Hilton bed. We rolled around, moaning about how starving we were, and once again used the phone for the pointless expedition of finding out when breakfast finished (11am). Too tired and hungry to even CONTEMPLATE morning sex, we dragged ourselves out to go find solace in the "Extensive Buffet Breakfast" (which we couldn't stop saying). Naturally, it was incredible, fry-up food on one side, muffins and bread rolls on the other, cheeses, Nutellas and SMOKED SALMON on the other. Obviously, we went for the fry-up with smoked salmon and orange juice, talking poshly and spoof-commenting on the stock market(despite me knowing absolutely sweet fuck-all about it). All we needed was a Daily Telegraph!
Check-out was at midday. Was hoping for some belated morning-sex but by the time we'd speedily packed, polished off last night's wine and made the bed, it was 3 minutes to 12. I sighed and huffed, indignant at the thought of leaving our little haven forever, not wanting to go back to normal life. I asked Joe (who used to work in a hotel) what would happen if we just stayed in the room and refused to come out - he said we'd get a phone call, telling us to leave, and then a knock on the door. Ten past 12 came, and no phone call. We had a quickie (I dared him, and he never turns down a dare), half 12 came and still no phone call. We had another quickie (praying no-one outside would look up at our window and see Joe's bottom), quarter to 1 came and STILL no phone call. By now, we realised we were well and truly taking the piss, so sadly picked up our suitcases, took some pictures and left.
At the check-out desk, Joe handed his card over while I discreetly looked away and tried not to hear how much it was. Which, unfortunately, I did. But what surprised me was how small the final cost was. Well, not "small" but definately below what I expecting. I'd heard "a grand a night" rumours. Maybe this place wasn't so expensive after all! I looked across at Joe, who had an enormous grin on his face, but - when asked why - told me he'd "tell me outside." Once he collected 3 copies of VAT receipts and invoices and I'd gazed around for the last time at this palace away from city life, we left.
Once safely round the corner, he told me - excitedly showing the proof on all 3 copies of the bill, that they had FORGOTTEN TO CHARGE HIM FOR THE ROOM. Seriously!! The bill contained all the additional services - the cossie, the champagne, the restaurant meal, the room service, but nowhere, on ANY of those pieces of paper did it mention room cost. That's why he'd asked for 3 copies of the bill, to cover his back, should anyone ask about it. We went over every possible reason, but Joe knows how hotels work, and the fact remained - be it a computer error or a slightly dim recpetionist, we had essentially just spent a night in the Hilton for free and there was NOTHING they could do about it!!! We could've got an extra bottle of champagne! Or ice cream on room service! I suddenly felt a lot less guilty about the lobster.
Despite the slightly illegal feeling - and expecting someone to come running after us at any moment - we were walking on air, and practically bounced back to the city centre, squealing like teenage girls. Neither of us had a Father's Day present yet, so we decided to go shopping. In a glorious flash of inspiration the answer came to me - I got him several Led Zeppelin albums and a live DVD of one of their concerts. When he was younger Dad used to sit for hours on end and listen to the albums on his massive headphones (which probably explains his hearing aid now) - so I reasoned that now, with the help of me and Itunes, he could do the same on his Ipod. Good times!
Had quite a shocking moment when walking past Faith - I stopped to drool over the shoes in the window, in particular a fine black pair with dimantes on. Whilst bemoaning why exactly these shoes weren't in my life, Joe stepped up, looked at them and said "Why don't you try them on?" When I replied that my lack of funds were restricting me, he simply said "I'll treat you."
OK, WHAAAAAAAAAT???!! What on EARTH was going on?? First the Hilton, then the concert, now this?! Now, I suppose it would be understandable if a guy made all these gestures to get into a girl's pants. But he's already in my pants!! So, what in the name of all that is good and holy, is all this lavishing in aid of? At that point, I genuinely went a little dizzy and had to run to the nearest railing to support myself. I remember dimly recalling how Carrie fainted at the Russian guy's overwhelmingness on "Sex and the City" (not that I am for a SECOND comparing myself to Carrie - she's vile). I asked why he was doing all this for me, he (aside from joking about the money saved from the free room) said that he doesn't spend money on himself - apart from the odd drink with his mates - and it's nice to have someone to treat. Sound reasoning! I guess I shouldn't complain.
After trying the shoes on (which didn't fit anyway, grr....) we went for a Subway lunch. I'm gonna be the size of a fricking HOUSE at this rate. I fended off the Landlady trying to rope me into an evening shift and got a call from Marie, who I hadn't spoke to in AGES. Turns out she's completely over PrickTard ex and is now seeing a really nice lad. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!After lunch we bobbed into Ann Summers, and managed to procure (with the money that would've gone on the shoes) a gorgeous new bra, stockings, a book, a DVD and a "Bondage Starter Kit." Weeeeeeeell, it IS on my list of "Things to Try before I'm 30" (why the frig haven't I written it down yet? I'll NEVER remember it!). And I've always been curious..... hehe.
Eventually we got the tram and went our separate ways, deciding to go back to his later. Got home and took a much-needed shower and nap, unpacked and put my new bra and stockings with matching knickers on, under an innocent outfit of joggers and t-shirt. Sadly, after watching "Little Britain" and "Kevin and Perry go Large" (classic) all evening, he yawningly told me he'd only had about 8 hours of sleep in the last two days and desperately needed sleep. Not even 2 ProPlus and the revealing of the sassy undergarments could keep him awake. Grrrrr......
SUNDAY
Sunday morning was FUN. Without giving too much away (as I kinda want to keep it to myself) - I got introduced, with the help of the kit, to the world of BDSM. He was surprisingly masterful at it! I've written down exactly what happened, only to be read by myself - as it was such an awesome experience, I don't really want to forget. I'd just rather no-one else read it, that's all. I'll just say - another 2 things can be struck off the "Before I'm 30" list.
Afterwards he dropped me home (after Subway AGAIN, yikes), and I gave Dad his presents, which he LOVED - immediately munching the chocolate and sticking on the DVD. Apparently Mum and Dad decided to have a little family "Father's day" BBQ, and told me I could invite Joe, so I did. Had a very lovely evening, listening to 60's and British music on Dad's ancient radio, munching barbeque and having a laugh.
Truly a perfect weekend. All I'll wondering is how the hell I'm gonna top that.....
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: blissed out
Current Music: "Uninvited" - Freemason's
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