by Davina Stone
Polly advanced. “Do you have a spare coverall I could borrow? I need to return this jacket to its owner and I can’t walk around—” she flung the jacket wide and showed off her glorious cleavage in the low-cut summer dress “—with my tits hanging out all day. Not exactly appropriate at work.”
“I’ll try and find you something.” Judith avoided eye contact.
She sensed Polly’s green gaze lasering into her back as she checked through her apron collection. “Did Carts stay with you last night?”
“Kind of—not really.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No— no, not at all. I mean, yes, sort of—” She felt her shoulders droop, suddenly overwhelmed.
“Do you need to workshop this over a coffee later?”
She was going to say no, hold it all in like she always did, but then she looked into Polly’s warm, concerned eyes.
And she knew that Polly was the one person who could advise her on her next move.
“Yes, yes I do.” She nodded fervently.
“Great, meet you at eleven in the staff canteen. And thanks for this.” Polly ripped off the jacket, stuck her arms in the coverall and fastened it with the tie around her waist. “How do I look?”
If Judith had been Polly she’d have said, “Like a well-fucked woman.” But she wasn’t, so she beamed and said, “Lovely.”
As Polly walked out, one of the patients, Esme, chortled. “Love the look, Polly. Are you helping run art therapy today?”
“No, Esme, it’s my new boho chic social worker uniform.” Polly grinned and sashayed off, her yellow dress swishing beneath the hem of the paint-stained coverall.
Judith turned back into the storeroom. The leather jacket was looped over a stool where Polly had left it. She examined it. Thick black leather. A biker’s jacket. As she flipped back the collar, she saw a name, scrolled in texta on the label.
Solo Jakoby.
Judith grinned her head off.
An hour and a half later she took the lift to the eighth floor, located Polly sitting in the far corner of the staff canteen and, strolling over, dropped the jacket onto the chair next to her.
“You left this behind.” She quirked an eyebrow in what she thought was a very good rendition of Polly. Polly tossed her head but a smile played around her lips. And a stray curl bounced out of her makeshift bun.
“Maybe we should workshop what you were up to last night?” Judith suggested.
“I reckon your need is greater than mine right now.”
That, Judith reflected as she grabbed a cup of coffee from the self-serve espresso machine, was probably true.
“I’ve only got twenty minutes,” Polly explained as Judith sat down opposite her. “I’ve got to run a counselling session.”
Judith took a deep breath and launched in. “Carts came to dinner last night.” Polly’s eyebrows waggled in an I-thought-as-much gesture. “And I cooked this amazing meal from Ottolenghi.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. And then we listened to music—did you know he’s into collecting eighties LPs?”
“Yeah, it’s been a thing of his ever since uni.”
“Well, it was fun and we danced and he mimed his—”
“Mark Knopfler?”
“Oh yes! You’ve seen him do that?”
“Every karaoke evening since 2011.”
Judith felt her insides melt. “That’s so sweet. So anyway, then we danced, and um, one thing kind of led to another and…”
“You know I won’t be shocked Jude. Just as few or as many details as you like.”
“Well, he um, how can I put this?” Judith leaned over the table and hiss-whispered, “He did things to me, really lovely things…” Her hair fell over her shoulder and a strand nearly made it into her coffee. She moved the cup. “But he wouldn’t let me do anything to him, past the kissing stage.” She cast a swift glance at Polly, who was looking thoughtful. “I just wondered if that’s—normal.”
“Depends what you call normal.”
“Oh, um—” Judith looped her hair behind both ears. Her earlobes were hot, which meant she must be blushing madly.
Polly clasped her hands together and leaned in too. “If you mean, is this what can happen to guys when they’re anxious and maybe a bit out of practice, yes. Jude, it’s not just us girls that have issues with the big O. Men do too. Much more than they let on.”
“I guess so. I just don’t have much recent experience to go by.”
“It’s not always a case of get hard, get thrusting, and voila!” Polly snapped her fingers. “Guys can get performance anxiety, particularly early on in a relationship. If things are a little hyperactive in that department, it’s not that easy to admit.”
Of course, it made total sense now Polly explained it like that. She’d been so worried about her own lack of experience, of putting him off by being too keen… and then last night, she was so overwhelmed by her own needs that she’d been blind to what could be going on for him.
“If that’s it… what can I do? To help us get past it?” What if they never could? What if she never got to see Carts naked? To touch him, feel him deep inside her?
“You need to talk about it with him.”
“But he hasn’t said that’s the problem. I can’t assume—”
“Okay,” Polly’s face got into its professional groove. “Here’s the plan. There’s a book, it’s called Pleasure Your Partner, by… some sex therapist,” She snapped her fingers again. “Dianne—no, Daphne that’s it, Dr Daphne Rubekind. Wow, I’m amazed I remember her name, it’s a while since I needed that book, years actually.” Judith grinned ruefully. Oh to be in Polly’s shoes. “It’s about how to enjoy the full experience of lovemaking, physically and psychologically.”
“Can I download it onto my reading device?”
“I doubt it. It’s probably out of print, it was written in the 1990s.”
Judith’s face fell, her hopes dashed. “Oh.”
“But there’s almost definitely a copy at the Book Genie. At least there was ten years ago!”
“Ten years ago!” Judith echoed in disbelief.
“Yeah.” Polly mused. “I hid it in the Ancient History section.”
Judith’s eyes widened. “What did you do that for?”
Polly shrugged. “I used to read it when I worked there as a student. I’d shove it on the top shelf so no one would find it. Honestly, nobody went near that section—except a dear old retired professor who was always asking for books on Ancient Mesopotamia. But I reckon he’s probably dead now. So, anyway, I’m pretty sure it’ll be there.”
Judith could only gape. “Wouldn’t they have done a stocktake since then?”
“Rowena, do a stocktake? Are you joking? She just piles in more books. Anyway… It’s a little red book, jam-packed with tips, it really opened my eyes.”
The thought of Polly ever needing her eyes opened with regard to sex was kind of funny. But if this book delivered her an ounce of Polly’s confidence in the bedroom, then she’d be happy. And if it helped her and Carts to… excitement fluttered inside her like a swarm of butterflies.
“Thank you Polly,” she said gratefully. “So am I to assume that you and the owner of the leather jacket have a thing going?”
“Shitbags, look at the time.” Polly jumped up and grabbed the jacket.
“That’s not fair.” Judith laughed. “I’ve laid bare all my intimate secrets; you can’t walk out without—”
“I’ll tell all later.” Polly hugged the jacket to her chest and Judith could have sworn she bent her head and gave it a little sniff. “Go buy that book. It’ll give you heaps of advice.”
And then she left.
Honestly, thought Judith, watching Polly’s departing figure, if that girl had a tail-feather she’d be shaking it right now.
“No lady friend tonight?” Paddy the Shamrock barman raised an eyebrow as Carts sat down at the bar.
“She’s got a family commitm
ent, otherwise she’d be here.” He couldn’t stomach the thought of looking like a loser, even to Paddy, who never judged. “Two of the usual. Dan’ll be joining me.”
“Righto.” Paddy grinned.
To be brutally honest, an evening with Dan at the Shamrock wasn’t going to measure up to making love to Judith tonight. But in the mix was a grain of relief. In all honesty, he wasn’t ready to trust his body. Sure, Tantra had served him well last night, but really if it had come to Judith focusing on him, touching him, he could so easily have let himself down and put paid to his chances.
Here’s a rose, now squeeze the base of my dick.
Carts stifled a grimace as he ordered two pints from Paddy.
He’d forced himself to attend a later session of yoga this evening. Decided to go to a Vinyassa class and pumped out warrior poses and sun salutes until he’d raised a sheen of sweat.
Despite having worked off a pile of energy, he was still wired. Too many images of Judith, the scent of her, the feel of her, the way she called his name as she came, running through his brain, making his libido difficult to keep under wraps.
A hard slam between the shoulder blades made him wince. He’d have to tell Dan to stop the fuck creeping up on him.
“Mate, you made it.” Dan sounded astounded.
“Course I made it.”
“I can’t tell anymore with you,” Dan grumbled, swinging his butt onto a bar stool. “You’ll disappear up your own arse one day with all this hippy shit.”
“Better than teabagging into the mouth of one of your team mates every Saturday arvo. It’s surprising you don’t talk like thiiiissss.” Carts raised his voice to a shrill pitch.
“Cock sucker,” Dan retorted cheerfully.
“Yeah, and that too.” They both laughed. Puerile jokes had always been the order of Friday nights, a pint of the black stuff in front of you, possibly a line of them. It was a relief sometimes, the banter Carts only ever indulged in with his best mates; safe in the knowledge it would go no further.
Dan’s freckles shone in the Shamrock lights. He really looked no different from when he was thirteen, just a bit taller and a hell of a lot broader.
Built like a brick shitter, I am, Dan had always said proudly.
They guzzled their pints in unison. Elbows bent, glasses to mouth. The great Guinness salute. The loud lip smack of satisfaction before licking away the froth moustache.
Back like it used to be. Minus one important cog in the wheel.
As if he read his mind, Dan said, “Have you heard from Aaron lately?”
Carts flicked a quick glance to see Dan’s pale blue eyes suddenly examining the ceiling, the look he got when a) he was pissed as a fart or b) he was being evasive about something. He guessed Dan had got the big news too and he supposed he should help him out by letting him know he knew.
“Yeah, he rang to say him and Alice have got engaged.”
“Oh, right-oh.” Still Dan’s gaze was evasive. “And… you’re all cool with that?”
Carts grinned. “I told him no hard feelings as long as I’m still best man.”
Dan looked relieved. “Bugger, I thought he’d choose me.”
“No way he would, you’d drop the ring down a crack in the podium. Then get maggoted and upset the bridesmaids with your god-awful chat-up lines.”
“Bullshit.” But Dan had the grin of a man who knew, from experience, this to be the case. “Mind you,” he added after another slug of his pint, “it did make me think if Aaron could find ‘the one’, there’s hope.”
“Hope for what?”
“The likes of you and me.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Dan plonked his empty glass on the bar. “Awright, but let’s be honest, mate. Neither of us are exactly high on the pulling power, are we?”
Carts squared his shoulders, ruffled a hand through his hair. Fuck it, he was going to get that haircut tomorrow morning from Tara, walk into the jaws of terror and let her snip her worst.
“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, rubbing the condensation from the sides of his glass.
Dan’s eyes took on a gleam of interest. “About to plunge in again are you mate?” He sounded a little peeved, almost envious. Dan might eschew dating for rugby, but Carts knew behind that solid wall of muscle he was soft as butter. They’d never have maintained a friendship if he wasn’t.
“You ever see Lucy these days?” Dan asked now.
“No way!” Carts shuddered. Lucy had lived with him for a few months, and he’d foolishly believed for a time she was “the one”. He’d given himself over to her whims and fancies. Her insomnia and her constant worry about whether she should have Botox for a tiny invisible—to him—crease in the centre of her forehead that no-one would even notice, let alone care about. They’d been a disaster together sexually. He’d had completely the opposite problem with Lucy. Frankly, he’d barely dare get a half mongrel around her in case she complained about it prodding her in the back and keeping her awake.
He brought her breakfast.
Listened to her woes about her job.
Paid for twelve sessions with a personal trainer for her birthday.
Hadn’t—as far as he was aware—paid for her to shag the personal trainer as part of the elite wellness package at Fitbods gym. Obviously he’d failed to read the small print properly.
What had he ever seen in her?
The potential for a life he’d always longed for, that’s what. The house, the kids, the white picket fence. The Aussie dream of trundling around the aisles of Bunnings on a Saturday morning, rug rats in tow, choosing tiles for the kitchen and paint samples for the front door.
“Well, she’s no loss. You’re better off without her,” Dan said after ordering another two pints from Paddy. “How say you about a night at the casino to celebrate Aaron and Alice deciding to tie the knot?”
“Not really in the mood mate, to be honest.”
Dan’s face fell for a moment, but not easily put off, he said, “Tomorrow night then.”
“Can’t, I’m on standby for Avery.”
Dan pulled a face. “I’d say I’d come, but you know, classical music isn’t exactly my thing.”
“Nah.” Carts shook his head, frowning. “It’s not her music. She’s going to a friend’s birthday party, and it’s one of those gigs that might turn feral. Mum doesn’t really want her to go but I said I’d take her and pick her up.” What he didn’t mention was the little rendezvous he’d arranged with Judith after. Right now, he wanted to keep his fledgling love affair to himself. It all felt too fragile and precious to be picked apart by Dan’s unsubtle rugby hands.
“Need a back-up?”
Carts shook his head. “No, mate. I’m good. Shouldn’t think anything’ll go wrong, just my paranoid brain overreacting.”
“I’d like to come anyway. Don’t see much of you these days.”
He opened his mouth to refuse and then caught the almost wistful expression that accompanied Dan’s words. Carts realised that Dan was probably missing Aaron too. And yeah, if he was honest, he’d not been the best of mates lately, more interested in doing yoga and having a quiet drink with Judith afterwards than spending time with his oldest pal.
He softened. “Okay. Aves likes you. Maybe she won’t make a thing about being dragged away early if you’re there too. How about we go for a bite to eat first?”
Dan’s face noticeably brightened. “Yeah, let’s grab a curry, we haven’t had one for weeks.”
Carts would have preferred something a little less spicy on the breath, but he wasn’t going to let Dan down when he had that hopeful look on his dial. “You’ve got a deal.”
Dan held up his fist. Carts bumped knuckles with him.
They picked up their fresh pints of Guinness in unison.
“To Aaron and Alice,” Dan said.
Yep. He’d drink to that.
chapter 14
Glide Physiotherapy took up the ground floor of a trendy offic
e block on the south side of the city, the floor to ceiling windows plastered with photos of toned legs in running shoes and the words, Why Run when you can Glide?
With a quick hi to the receptionist, Lou, who she knew from meeting Pip here numerous times, Judith took a seat and listened to her sister’s voice reverberate through the thinly partitioned wall. “Come on now, yes, bend a bit more for me, that’s it. Press against me, now pull back… Ah, good one. See? You’ve got more range of movement already.”
Judith picked up a magazine called Keto and stared blindly at an article about how to get your own fat to eat itself, which incidentally was not a problem she suffered from; a bit more flesh over her bones would probably be good. She threw Keto back on the pile and picked up a parenting magazine; flicked through pictures of little round heads and chubby fingers, could almost smell their sweet newborn scent and wondered what babies with Carts would look like. No doubt she’d birth babies who shot off the charts for length.
Crazy. One mind-blowing orgasm and she was fantasising about having Carts’ babies. Was that the purpose of orgasms? To bond you to one another with a flash as blinding as the Big Bang?
She couldn’t stop daydreaming; more precisely, she was consumed with thoughts of him—and turned on to the point of having to spend much of the day with her thighs squeezed together.
But that aside, it was also swoony romantic. She’d sneaked to her bag and read the note that she’d hidden in her purse several times. The special rose was now carefully arranged with the others in her favourite vase.
As Pip walked out, Judith threw the magazine back on the pile and jumped up.
Pip looked radiant. Judith recognised it as the look of love, the look Carts had on his face when she caught him staring at her. Oh stop it! This was the moment she had to focus on Pip’s momentous announcement, not turn into a bag of mushy peas.
“Okay,” said Pip as she closed the door, “sit down and listen.” Judith obligingly hooked her bottom onto the treatment table. “I’ve rehearsed this with Shaz, but she doesn’t know our family, so she wasn’t sure if it would work. I’m trying to memorise it because reading it would be shite, obviously.”