The Importance of Being a Bachelor Read Online Free Page A

tea from the table in the hallway and took a sip. She made good tea. Nice and strong. No sugar. Not too much milk. He swished it around his mouth a bit as though it was mouthwash and was about to swallow when she appeared at the top of the stairs.
    ‘This is a nightmare,’ she said. ‘I can’t seem to find my other shoe.’
    ‘Have you checked the bedroom?’
    She nodded. ‘And the bathroom. You couldn’t be a love and check downstairs for me?’
    Heading into the kitchen Adam dropped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and gave the room a quick scan before heading to the living room. He spotted the missing footwear – a gold high-heeled sandal – almost immediately as it was sitting on top of the coffee table in the middle of the room. He picked it up, smiled as he recalled the manner in which it had been abandoned and then called out that he had found it.
    ‘You’re a life saver!’ She slipped on the shoe like a latter-day Cinderella and smoothed down the creases of her gold lamé minidress. ‘Right then, I’d better be off.’ She put her arms round his waist, kissed him and gave him a cheeky wink. ‘So, you’ve got my number?’
    Adam nodded. ‘Filed away on my SIM card.’
    ‘Good.’ She kissed him again. ‘Don’t wait too long to text me.’
    ‘Make a lady wait? Wouldn’t dream of it.’
    The girl picked up her expensive-looking designer bag from the sofa and left the room. Adam followed, picking up his tea on the way.
    Adam stood on the doorstep and watched as she tottered down the drive and into the back of a silver Toyota Corolla. As the car pulled off Adam offered a final wave and then closed his eyes, turned his face towards the morning sun and savoured the sensation of the warmth on his face. This is the last time, he told himself, the very last time.
    In essence, he reasoned as he returned inside and closed his front door, it had been his friends’ fault. All that talk of him being the least likely person to get hitched had provoked a lot of soul-searching when he should simply have been enjoying himself at the wedding. In truth Adam was actually quite worried that his friends were right. He had indeed spent too long chasing the wrong kind of girl and in the process had turned his whole life into one big fat men’s magazine cliché. After all here he was, a devastatingly good-looking, solvent, single man in his mid-thirties who also happened to be the owner of one of the coolest bars in south Manchester. The kinds of women he liked were indeed ones that most mere mortals couldn’t get within a few feet of without being tackled to the ground by security guards. And going out with them meant that he was part of an exclusive club featuring premier league football players, top name DJs and the odd younger member of the cast of Coronation Street . Really, it didn’t get any more exclusive than that. As for the women themselves Adam’s libido had a kind of mental checklist that it constantly and unconsciously referred to. Great face? Check. Long legs? Check. Tanned (fake or otherwise, he wasn’t fussy)? Check. Ridiculously tight minidress that showed off every asset? Check and bingo! In short Adam liked his women to be as flashy, sexually attractive and downright head-turning as it was humanly possible to be.
    Now granted that Ameee (she had insisted that it was spelled with three ‘e’s) wasn’t up to Adam’s usual standard but as he had stood at the bar with his mates searching his soul and wondering exactly when his life had become this superficial he found himself making eye contact with an amazing-looking blonde in a spangly gold minidress who had the longest tanned legs he had seen in quite a while. Presented with the dilemma of confirming his friends’ prejudices or refuting them Adam went on to automatic pilot. He walked over to the girl, dazzled her with his best sales talk and just after midnight hopped into the back of a cab with her. The rest had been depressingly