Unforgettable Embrace Read online

  Gold members could “poke”, email and telephone each other to their hearts' content. How do they come up with these rules and regulations? Rachel mused as she dug around in her handbag for her wallet and credit card. Oh well, might as well give it a go. Her credit card was accepted and before long she found herself filling in the detailed questions. The basic information was easy enough but then it came to filling in her profile and who she'd like to meet and what her hobbies and interests were and where she'd like to go on a first date. She wrote and rewrote her profile several times but still wasn't too happy with the tone. She even pretended to be “a man seeking a woman” to have a look at the other women's profiles on the site and check what the competition was writing. There were the usual provocative profiles, mixed in with a few quite desperate profiles, and several very honest profiles. Rachel went back to her own profile and decided to go with complete honesty in her description of herself and what she wanted in a future date.

  Several hours after her initial login to Maybe Love.com Rachel had finally finished her profile. It was a mixture of honesty and humour and she felt quite pleased with the result. Next item on the agenda was finding a suitable photo for her profile. She waded through her photo albums which she kept on her laptop, but none were appropriate. Most of them were too busty or were with Tony. She didn't realise how many photos she had of the two of them together. She smiled as she went through the pictures, remembering the many good times they'd shared over the years.

  She felt a pang suddenly, and she wondered if she had done the right thing by letting Tony go, but she quickly dismissed the doubts from her mind and ploughed on with the task of finding the perfect profile picture. She decided to take one of herself on her digital camera and after several attempts, several of which made her look like a cross-eyed psychopath, she settled upon a head shot where she looked fairly pleasant and not too demented. She decided to go with a head shot because she would prefer to have a man be interested in her face and her smile than her bra size. She knew this was assuming that most men are shallow but her personal experience was that many men had an inordinate interest in her bust.

  She did have exceptionally large breasts, which were completely natural. She was the owner of a size 36FF bust. Sometimes, she felt quite proud of her chest, but mostly they were slightly annoying. She could rarely find tops that were long enough, as she was five feet nine and a half inches to be precise, but her height, combined with her bust size meant that most tops usually ended at her belly button, which was not a good look when combined with her jeans and muffin-top peaking out. Then they often ached when she was menstrual, or even sometimes when she lay in bed she squashed them when she slept on her stomach. She often found herself envying the smaller-busted women in her office, who ironically envied her ample cleavage.

  Some people got positively offended by the size of her bust. She remembered having a peculiar encounter with an elderly lady when she was in a local, family-run restaurant with her friends. The Harvester was a buffet-style restaurant, which usually involved several trips from your table to the food counter, depending on how hungry you felt. Well, one particular evening, Rachel and her friends had met up after work and decided to have dinner at The Harvester. They chose a cosy booth just big enough for the three of them in a quiet corner, and after ordering their drinks with the waitress, they made their way towards the buffet. Rachel and her friends stacked their plates and made their way carefully back to their booth.

  Rachel noticed an elderly lady looking rather sternly at her. She brushed the look away, thinking she was imagining it and quickly demolished her plate. In her defence, she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, so was absolutely ravenous by dinner time. She got up to refill her plate, joined by Liz, and again she noticed the woman staring at her in agitation. Liz noticed too. She elbowed Rachel, “what's wrong with the old dear?”

  “Haven't a clue,” Rachel looked at the old woman in bewilderment. The woman was pointing at Rachel's clothes and saying loudly “indecent”.

  Rachel was shocked. She had a large bust, it was a fact of life, and not much she could do about it. She was wearing a plain, green v-neck jumper, nothing remotely indecent about it. “What's her problem?” Liz whispered in her friend's ear.

  “I think she's taken offence to the size of my bust,” Rachel replied.

  “Oh for heaven's sake!” Liz exclaimed. “If she doesn't pipe down fairly lively, I'll be having a word with the old bat.”

  “Don't worry about it,” Rachel said, “I'm used to it, even though it is odd coming from an elderly woman.”

  The friends continued with their dinner, which they thoroughly enjoyed. Rachel even managed to squeeze in a chocolate sundae for dessert.

  “Utterly luscious,” she groaned as she sank back in her chair, patting her now very round stomach.

  Suddenly, the elderly woman passed the girls' booth, presumably on her way to the toilet. “Prostitute,” she muttered, looking directly at Rachel's ample bosom.

  “That's it!” Liz shouted, slamming her spoon forcefully down on the the table. “I've had about enough of you and your attitude, granny! What is your malfunction with my friend?” she yelled at the elderly woman who was completely taken aback by Liz's sudden outburst.

  “Well, um, I think she should cover her chest,” granny stuttered.

  “She is covered. She couldn't be any more covered. How dare you abuse my friend, just because she has bigger and better tits than you? Get a life, grandma!”

  The old woman scuttled back to her table, looking utterly crestfallen.

  “Wow!” Jen exclaimed. “I feel like applauding or giving you a standing ovation, Liz. Have you ever considered a career in acting?”

  “The old biddy deserved it,” Liz responded, “she's been hassling Rach all night and I'm tired of looking at her cranky face. I thought I should give her a reason to whinge, and now she has a good one.”

  “Thanks, Liz,” Rachel smiled at her friend. “It does annoy me sometimes when people stare and comment on my bust. But I've never met anyone who was actually offended by “the girls”.” She patted her chest gently and grinned at her friends.

  Rachel laughed to herself, remembering that incident in the restaurant. It made her even more resolute to just upload a head shot on to her dating profile. Finally, all was complete, photo and profile were authorised and successfully uploaded on the website. She was now a fully- fledged member of Maybe Love.com. All she had to do now was sit back and wait for the man of her dreams to contact her. Let's hope it's just that simple, she thought, as she shut down her computer for the evening.

  Chapter 10

  Rachel was feeling cross-eyed from all the hours sitting in front of her computer screen. She'd spent most of the morning sorting out her team's holiday requests and trying to organise cover. She liked to do her best to give her staff the holidays they'd requested as she was a firm believer that a happy team lead to a more productive team. She was up to her eyeballs in paperwork and spreadsheets and felt she had earned a mini break. She decided to check her mobile to see if anyone had called or texted her in the last few hours. She'd put her phone on silent as she was tired of trying to avoid Brian's incessant calls.

  She hadn't realised when she'd agreed that they should be friends that he would take it literally. She was only being polite. Yes, just as she had expected, a text from Brian. She didn't even bother reading it, let alone responding, and hit delete. She had another message from Maybe Love.com, letting her know that someone liked her profile. She smiled at her phone and looked forward to checking her account later, but for now, she had to get the holidays organised.

  “Anything interesting?” Bettina asked, as Rachel popped her mobile phone back into her desk. “Just checking my messages,” Rachel said shortly, mustering a fake smile.

  Bettina Mortensen was supervisor of the Scandinavian team. She was very tall, about six feet, and had long, poker straight platinum blonde hair, which she claimed was natura
l whenever anybody asked her where she got her hair done, but which Rachel was convinced was a dye job.

  Everyone in the office thought she was stunningly beautiful but Rachel thought she looked too technically perfect to be beautiful, and she was very aware of her looks, which Rachel found most unattractive. Of course, most of the men in the office drooled over her. Rachel had had several conversations about Bettina's very obvious attractiveness with Greg Smith, one of her colleagues, with whom she got on very well.

  He always laughed and said that obvious beauty was better than hidden beauty, what was a man supposed to do-look for beauty? If it was staring him in the face he was hardly going to deny the obvious beauty for the hidden beauty now was he?

  Bettina had joined the team a few months previously, from their Danish office. She was constantly going on about how much she missed Copenhagen and how amazing the public transportation system was in Denmark and of course, how diabolical it was in Cork and in Ireland generally, which it was, but that was part of the charm. Rachel often found herself having to fight the urge to scream at her to get out and go back to Denmark, but she managed to restrain herself.

  She and Rachel didn't like each other. They had both taken an instant dislike to each other from the moment they met. They tried to be polite and had even made a few attempts to have coffee together but they seemed to irritate each other and invariably ended up sitting in awkward silence. They exchanged pleasantries throughout the day, but that was about it. They were both resigned to the fact that they would simply never be friends.

  Rachel's “best friend” in the office was David Mc Cloud, a short, gregarious Scottish man with a wicked sense of humour. He was possibly the funniest person she had ever met, and the two of them got on famously. He often said if he wasn't already very happily married to his wife of fifteen years, that he would have married Rachel in a heartbeat.

  David managed the United Kingdom and Ireland department, which comprised the largest team in the office. His team always seemed to be having so much fun at work, with their uproarious laughter being heard sporadically throughout the day. Senior management often asked him to quieten his section's antics, but as they were the best performing team in the office David and his gang were usually left to their own devices.

  One of the best perks of working at Sherrington International was the discounted hotel rooms. Sherrington owned a large collection of hotels, including the most beautiful luxury hotels, all across Europe. Rachel and Tony had stayed at the five star Brussels hotel the previous year. The luxury and opulence of the hotel was breathtaking.

  The staff was falling over themselves to make their stay as pleasant as possible, and Rachel had gotten their deluxe suite at a seventy five per cent discount. She and her friends spent many enjoyable hours drooling over the London collection of spas. They were planning on a weekend away when they could all agree on a date in their diaries.

  Chapter 11

  “Look at the state of his shoes!” Liz exclaimed. The girls were in Rachel's apartment checking out some of her matches on Maybe Love.com.

  “Who wears brown lace-up brogues these days? My granddad used to wear them in black when he went to church on Sundays!”

  “I think he looks sweet,” Jen said. “The phrase “goody two shoes” springs to mind though; no pun intended.”

  “You can always judge a man's character by his shoes, my father often said,” Liz continued, “I used to think it was a sweeping generalisation on his part, but there's a lot of truth in what he said. My own experiences of life and love have revealed that many a man's and a woman's true character can be correctly assessed by what they choose to wear on their feet.”

  “Hmm, that is very interesting actually,” Rachel mused. “Look at us, for example; Jen always wears skyscraper high heels. I don't think I've ever seen you in a pair of runners.”

  “I wouldn't be caught dead in the things,” Jen agreed, “I don't even own a pair.”

  “You don't even have one pair of runners!” Liz exclaimed.

  “I hate them,” Jen said, “always have, always will detest them.”

  “Exactly,” Rachel continued, “Jen is the glamorous, slightly high maintenance one among us.” “I am not high maintenance!” Jen exclaimed.

  “You are too,” Liz said, “case in point, not owning one pair of runners.”

  “Liz you are the girly girl of us, with your dainty ballet pumps and respectably heeled shoes,” Rachel said, “ I aspire to wear high heels and buy numerous pairs, but I don't last very long in them before I revert to my flat pumps or heaven forbid trainers again.”

  “So what's our assessment of this guy, Tom 1978, and his brown brogues, then?” Jen asked, enlarging his photo on the computer screen.

  “A good, decent wholesome man,” Liz said. “He does have a kind face,” Rachel interjected. “Lovely brown eyes,” Liz sighed.

  “Is he worth winking at?” Jen said.

  “Yeah, go on, let's wink,” Rachel laughed.

  “Kevin O' C looks a bit creepy,” Liz pointed at the screen.

  “Just a bit,” Jen agreed, “I think it's his eyes, they're too small and too close together.”

  “Yeah, and look at how short he is; five foot seven inches,” Rachel said, “I don't think so, much too short for me.”

  “A fine tall, strapping lad, that's who you need,” Jen grinned at her friend.

  “Isn't that what we all need?” Liz said with a cheeky smile.

  “Oh, look, someone wants to private message you,” Jen exclaimed.

  “Let's talk to him, see what he has to say,” Liz said.

  “OK, you can type,” Rachel said to Liz.

  “Hi, how are you?” Liz typed.

  “Just fine,” was the response from Mr. JJ, “you want to have a sexy chat?”

  “Oh for heavens' sake!” Jen said, “pervert!”

  “No thanks, goodnight,” Liz typed and that was their brief encounter with Mr. JJ.

  Several winks and even a few emails later, the girls decided to call it a night and Liz and Jen shared a taxi home together. Rachel was quite pleased with herself; she'd already exchanged emails with a few men on the site.

  It's all quite civilised really, this online dating, she thought to herself. She liked the idea of being able to read profiles of potential dates and see if you had anything in common. Some profiles were an immediate, definite no no, others seemed pleasant and one or two were even intriguing. She was looking for a tall man, who was no more than ten years older or at least the same age as her. She didn't want a younger man; she couldn't imagine what she would have in common with someone who wasn't at least her own age.

  She realised that was a little hypocritical and assuming on her part but those were her criteria. She most certainly did not want a man who was shorter than her, preferably taller, but at least the same height. She wanted to be able to wear her highest heels if she so chose.

  She could never understand how tall women could date shorter men.

  Imagine holding his hand, she thought to herself, I'd feel like his mother. I’d never be able to wear high heels because I'd make him feel like even more of a munchkin than he already was. Small men, definitely not for me, she thought, as she got herself ready for bed and prepared to settle down with her latest and ever-faithful Mills and Boon romance.

  Chapter 12

  “Help me,” Rachel hissed into her mobile phone, “I can't stop sweating!”

  “Pardon!” Liz hissed back down the phone, “where are you and why are we whispering?”

  “I'm on a date with John Mahoney, one of the guys from the internet. It's our first date and I can't stop sweating all over him. Any recommendations on how I can cool down quickly?”

  Liz couldn't stop laughing. “Run your wrists under the cold tap,” she managed to advise in between gasping for breath, she was laughing so much.

  “I'm glad you find my predicament so hilarious,” Rachel said. “I've got to go.”

  She
hung up on Liz, who was still hysterical.

  She ran her hands under the cold tap which cooled her down, marginally. She dried her hands and checked her appearance in the mirror. She'd spent hours carefully applying her makeup, which was now slightly streaked and rubbed off in patches. She even had a tiny piece of white tissue paper stuck to her forehead. Wonderful, she thought, I wonder how long that's been there? John must think I'm a total nut job by now. She carefully picked the tissue off her forehead, leaving a pale patch behind; clearly she'd overdone it on the bronzing powder.

  She continued dabbing the sweat from her face. There wasn't any air in the bathroom, so instead of cooling down she was actually getting hotter.

  How long have I been in here now? She asked herself.

  She decided to leave the bathroom and fervently hoped she would start cooling down fast.

  John looked up from the drinks menu just as she approached the table. “Everything OK?” he asked cautiously, “I was starting to think you'd run away on me.”

  “No, no, of course not,” Rachel laughed, “there was a queue for the loo.”