In which the uneventful start to 2008 I'd hoped for appears elusive. Part One...

Well, it didn’t compromise any of the resolutions I promised myself I’d stick to, but New Year ’08 did open in true Blonde fashion: when one wakes up on New Year’s morning to kisses from the person on the other side of the bed, uneventful is never going to be the correct way to describe the year’s beginning...

My arrival at The Thespian’s flat for his very large (and, I must say, really rather excellent) party was delayed, stopping en route as I did at Speckled Lad’s flat: “Come round for coffee and cheesecake – we’ll all go and watch the fireworks and then go on to Thesp’s afterwards,” SL had said. And so, in my new jeans, killer heels and a cracking top that looked fine in the shop mirror but ultimately turned out a fraction sluttier than I had anticipated, I turned up at his flat.

Around the table with SL, his flatmate and Argentinean Girlfriend, sat SL’s three brothers. We spent a delightful couple of hours eating, drinking and making very merry, with the exception of AG, who displayed her best sulk, and didn’t speak a word to me for the entire proceeding.

“You have a really infectious laugh,” said Speckled Lad the Youngest, pushing back his floppy, blond hair, and pouring me another glass of wine as he looked at me in that flirtatious yet coy way that 19-year old boys have. I could feel SL’s eyes boring into the side of my head as I blushed and tried to stop myself laughing.

“Huh – all SL’s brothers seem quite taken with you,” said SL’s flatmate as she and I wandered towards the fireworks later that evening. “If I weren’t with the boyfriend, I’d happily shag any of ‘em: you should go for it.” I laughed off the suggestion: the ages of the two younger ones precluded it; SL would be furious; and anyway, I wasn’t wearing matching underwear.

But, a few of The Metrosexual’s voddie milkshakes and a good deal of flirting later (Speckled Lad the Elder had carried me down Calton Hill post-fireworks, so I wouldn’t ruin my shoes), a little light reciprocation didn’t seem out of the question. And when AG declared she wanted to go home at 1am, much to SL’s disgruntlement, the flirting cranked up several notches.

So when I stood in TT’s deserted kitchen at 6am, to find Speckled Lad The Elder’s face mere moments from mine, I gave in to the wonderfully long and erotic first kiss of the New Year. The cold, wet but rather romantic rickshaw ride to mine (that followed an hysterical few yards during which we were both walking along North Bridge without our shoes) did nothing to dampen the ardours, and by the time I’d had Speckled Lad The Elder stand in the hall for 10 seconds (á la Laura Linney in Love Actually) whilst I ran round and picked up extraneous pairs of pants from my bedroom floor, I simply melted under the touch of a man who clearly understands the power of a sensual, unhurried kiss.

Some considerable time was spent seeing in the New Year in style, and one of which I deeply approve – further emphasised to me when I woke up from the nook in Speckled Lad The Elder’s arm, from what probably couldn’t accurately even be constituted a nap, to gentle kisses over my face and shoulders, and more hours of steamy, sweaty delight.

I firmly believe in starting the year as I mean to go on. It may not be as uneventful as I’d planned, but if the multiple orgasms that left me with pins and needles in my fingers are going to be so forthcoming, I say bring on the events.

Tags: Sex, Theories revised