Alice’s Hen Weekend

Alice Johnson lowered herself into the pool and leaned back against the tiled surface. Jets of water bubbled up beneath her lycra-clad bottom, pummelling her thighs, making her insides feel as if they were vibrating. Let’s hope they break up the cellulite before the wedding, Alice thought to herself, crossing her fingers under the water.
               She closed her eyes and inhaled the warm, faintly perfumed air, trying not to think about how many bottoms had sat there before hers. Bubble, bubble, pummel, pummel. Quite uncomfortable after a while. Like having your legs in a washing machine on the tough-stains cycle, she imagined. Still, she was forking out enough cash for this place, she felt obliged to kid herself it was perfect.
               “This is bliss,” she murmured dutifully, wondering how long she’d have to sit there before she could return to dry land.
               “Mmmm, heavenly,” Katie said, from across the jacuzzi.
               Alice wondered if there would be a jacuzzi at their honeymoon hotel. If there was, Jake was sure to want to have sex in it. He said all that spurting water turned him on. Mind you, anything turned him on. Just the word ‘spurt’ was probably enough to give him a semi.
               Jake seemed to think about sex every other second. He was fond of telling Alice how often she gave him “the horn” as he so charmingly phrased it. Bending over to put a video in the machine – that gave him the horn. Rolling over in bed at night – that gave him the horn. Whenever Alice was in the shower – oh yes, that really gave him the horn. She’d have only just squirted the shampoo onto her palm (squirt – another word that did it for him) and he’d be in there with her, cock at a right angle, telling her that God, he just couldn’t resist joining her…
               It was flattering that he wanted to get her knickers down constantly, really. A compliment that he was always attempting to feel her up when she was getting dressed, or making a cup of tea, or trying to watch Coronation Street.
               All the same… it was exhausting. Would marriage calm him down? she wondered. Would being a husband tame the rampant horn? Somehow she doubted it.
               “Where’s Georgia, by the way?” Katie asked drowsily. “I haven’t seen her for a while.”
               “She went off for her massage ages ago,” Alice said, opening her eyes and glancing around the room for a clock. No clock. Of course. People here were meant to be relaxing, not clock-watching. Georgia had been gone a long time, though, Alice was sure. Knowing Georgia, she was up to something. She’d probably lucked in with a fit male masseur who was giving her a very special rub-down. “Any extras?” Alice could imagine Georgia asking in that throaty purr of hers. No doubt she herself would get a skinny bitch for her massage, who’d sneer disapprovingly at Alice’s wobbly bits while Alice had her eyes shut. “God, I had a dumpy one, just now,” Alice could already imagine the woman saying to her colleagues afterwards. “Legs like marshmallows, no muscle tone whatsoever!”
               She tried not to dwell on that. Or on Georgia and her masseur, having a bunk-up in the towel cupboard.
               Actually, now that she came to think about it, Georgia was probably on the phone to someone from the paper. Alice was amazed that Georgia had come all the way out of London, to the Cotswolds for her hen weekend. Originally she’d said no, sorry, she was too busy with work and Alice had felt crestfallen because she’d only invited Katie and Georgia, and what good was a hen night with only one other hen?
               Luckily, Georgia had called back to say that actually she could come, but she could only stay the Saturday night and she’d have to get the train early-ish on Sunday, okay?
               Alice didn’t mind the conditions. She was so grateful that Georgia was coming at all, she’d said yes, fine, thank you to everything. She couldn’t help wondering if Katie had leaned on Georgia a bit, talked her into coming. Probably. Katie was nice like that. Or perhaps Georgia had had a tip-off that one of her celebs was checking in for a weekend too. She could never resist a sniff of gossip.
               It still seemed something of a dream to Alice, that she was having a hen night in the first place. A miracle, that she, quiet Alice Johnson, was having a wedding, getting married to sexy, charismatic, Jake Archer. A lot of the time, she found herself checking the ring on her finger, making sure she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. But it was true. And he was so gorgeous. So funny. And such a good actor, even if Hollywood hadn’t realized that yet. (Or Theatreland in London, for that matter. But give it time. They were sure to realise he had talent with a capital T any time now.) And oh yes, he loved her! He wanted to marry her! She could hardly believe her luck.
               The bubbling and pummelling had turned her legs to jelly. She clambered out of the pool and wrapped a soft white towel around herself. “I’m going for a swim,” she told Katie, who still had her eyes shut. “See you in a bit.”
               She was having a lovely time, she told herself as she wandered down to the main pool, cocooned in white fluffiness, hoping her legs weren’t looking too much like gooseflesh. A hen weekend here in a spa, with a salt-scrub back massage to look forward to later this afternoon (she hoped it wouldn’t be too painful) and an evening of good food and wine with her two best friends tonight. Best of all, she had a bed of her own upstairs – clean crisp sheets and duvet, and nobody pestering her for a shag in the middle of the night.
               Not ‘pestering’. No. That sounded as if she was moaning. And she wasn’t, of course. Why would she moan about Jake? He was absolutely perfect. And, in just three weeks’ time, he’d be her husband.

               “So, not long to go, eh?” Georgia said that evening over dinner. “Are you all sorted for the big day?”
               Alice swallowed a mouthful of rocket salad (she’d barely eaten a single calorie for weeks) and smiled. “Nearly,” she said. “It’s all just about coming together. I’ve finished the dress, pretty much—“
               “Ooh, what’s it like?” Katie put in, spooning more potatoes onto her plate and slipping a few onto Alice’s.
               “Well, the dress itself is quite ordinary – it’s strapless and very tight on the waist, which is why I’m dieting like mad,” Alice replied, putting the potatoes straight back in the dish. “But I’ve also made this gorgeous fluffy faux-fur muff and…” She bit her lip. “I’m thinking about a cape as well. I’ve found this beautiful red velvet fabric, but am not sure if it’s too much of a Superman vibe. Or Little Red Riding Hood.”
               “Sounds gorgeous to me,” Georgia said. “I think winter weddings are lovely – really magical. How are you decorating the church?”
               “Lots of holly and ivy garlands, big fat candles and fairy lights,” Alice said dreamily. “And poinsettias too.” She giggled. “Jake quite fancied some fake snow, but I drew the line at that. No sleigh bells either.”
               “It’s going to be brilliant,” Katie said. “Go on, then, who have you put us on a table with? Has Jake got any sexy single mates you can seat us next to?”
               Georgia glugged back her wine. “Please tell me he’s bezzy mates with Daniel Craig, Alice. Please!”
               Alice shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “Jake’s mates are all scruffy indie-kid sorts. Anyway, what are you on about, I bet you’re always bumping into Daniel Craig at your glam parties, Georgia. You don’t need me and Jake to sort you out with some totty, surely!”
               Georgia wrinkled her nose. “Well, I wouldn’t say no,” she replied. “It’s wall to wall WAGs and bimbos for me these days. I’m getting a bit fed up of it, to be honest. I reckon another year and I’ll be done on the showbiz circuit. Any longer and I’ll be burned out, or an alcoholic. Or just a hard-hearted bitch, like some of the other gossip girls.” She poured everyone another glass of wine. “It eats away at you after a while, this job. Some times I wonder about giving it all up to write my bestselling novel.”
               “Oh yeah?” Katie looked up with interest. “What bestselling novel is this, then?”
Georgia shrugged. “Oh, you know, just a little pipe-dream. Something I’ve been thinking about for a while. But I need to stockpile some savings first if I’m ever going to manage it, so I guess I’m stuck where I am for the time being.” She smiled. “Anyway, enough about me. We’re here for Alice after all.  Lovely Alice and lovely Jake. Here’s to years of happiness and hot sex.”
               Alice blushed, but Katie was already raising her glass. “Happiness and hot sex!”