by Davina Stone
There was one embossed rose on the cover, which struck her as a good omen. She flipped it open and read the title page:
Pleasure Your Partner
A manual for lifelong loving
By Dr Daphne Rubekind
Sneaking the book behind her handbag, Judith went to find somewhere to sit. The wonderful thing about the Book Genie was that there were reading seats in every nook and cranny; stools shaped like toadstools and frogs in the children’s section, a big Alice in Wonderland throne at the end of the Fantasy section, and square trompe l’oeil cubes painted to look like shelves of books. She perched on one of them in a quiet corner and eagerly turned the pages.
The first gem she came to was “Take Your Time”. She guessed that’s where she’d gone wrong, jumped in too fast and eager with the hip grind move down by the river when they’d kissed. She’d more or less rubbed herself all over him like marinade and from what Polly said, that could have been somewhat overwhelming.
She flicked eagerly through more pages and found a chapter on touch. Her eyes widened as she read through all the tips and little tricks. Tongues, lips, thighs, breasts, you name it; there was not one piece of your anatomy you couldn’t put to good use.
But it was the chapter on Barriers to Intimacy that resonated the most. Dr Rubekind had a lot to say on good old-fashioned talking things through. It was all very sound advice. She skimmed to the end of the chapter where a little shaded box summarised the main points.
* * *
REMEMBER: Great sex involves the brain far more than the reproductive organs. Many barriers to sexual intimacy are psychological, not physical. Talk about your likes and dislikes, deepest desires and greatest fears with your partner. A truly wonderful physical connection develops when you can be open and honest with one another.
* * *
“Thank you, thank you, Dr Daphne Rubekind,” Judith whispered, clasping the little volume to her chest. Because now she knew that there really was nothing to worry about. Sure, there were some hurdles to overcome, but there was nothing wrong with either of them. They loved each other’s company, they made each other laugh and their chemistry was off the charts. The rest would follow once they relaxed and learned to open up and… just talk to one another.
Holding the book like a precious artefact she’d uncovered in an archaeological dig, Judith made her way to the counter, and didn’t even blink when the woman flipped it open, revealing the title in big bold letters.
“I can’t find a price anywhere,” the woman said finally. “How about I charge you ten dollars?”
“Ten dollars is absolutely fine.” Judith smiled sweetly and got out her purse.
Chapter 16
“When you turn the corner, stop the car.”
Avery had jumped into the passenger seat with her duffle coat bundled around her and a bulky plastic bag clasped to her chest.
“What for?” Carts tried to keep his voice neutral because the teenage energy next to him was at risk of setting fire to the car.
“You don’t think I’m going like this, do you?” Avery cast an urgent glance at the house and hissed, “Quick, drive off before Mum comes out to check what I’m wearing.”
Shaking his head, Carts pushed the gear stick into drive and drove off down the street. Only when they’d turned the corner did Avery slump back against the seat with a sigh of relief. Then she started to tug things out of the bag; a pair of high-heeled sparkling silver sandals, a compact of eye shadows the size of a paintbox, a pair of dangly diamanté earrings and a bottle of Passion Pop.
“You’re not taking alcohol.” Carts almost exploded.
“It’s not for me. It’s for the others.” Hastily, she shoved the bottle back into the bag.
“But you’re all underage.”
“No, Duke’s nineteen.”
“I told you I don’t want you being around that guy.”
Avery clucked her tongue loudly. “I can’t just ignore him if he speaks to me, can I?”
“You can walk away.”
“Thatsadumbasfuckidea.” Avery had by now yanked down the passenger seat mirror and was popping her eyes at her reflection and puffing her lips into a pout.
“Can you pleassse stop the car,” she whined. “I can’t put my make-up on while you’re driving.”
“Only if you promise you won’t drink that shit.”
“Argggh, okay, promise.”
Exasperation rising up his throat like acid, Carts veered to the side of the road and drew to a halt with a squeal of brakes. Apart from when he drove into Ron’s parking spot, he was a meticulously careful driver but right now, his last surviving nerve was hanging on by a thread.
Why did he sense the evening was going to go downhill from here? He tried to push the thought away, tried to be positive. Because if everything went to plan he’d be seeing Judith at the end of the night, maybe even… he made an effort to tone down the adrenaline that had his heart drumming against his ribs.
“You’d better mean that.” He focused on sounding stern, only to relent as Avery nuzzled his arm with her chin. “You’re the best,” she replied before resuming her make-up.
He sat watching her out the corner of his eye and pretended to check his phone.
A brush that would have done Picasso proud swept over her cheekbones. Lipstick was applied, and then she brought out some things that looked like two furry caterpillars.
“What the fuck?” he said, unable not to stare, as she carefully fixed them to her upper eyelids.
“Magnetic eyelashes,” she said proudly. “I mean, how cool are these?”
“Christ!”
After a few more moments of admiring her reflection, Avery shoved the passenger door open and stepped out of the car.
“Where are you going?” He leaned over the seat only to see her wriggle out of her thick duffle coat, fluff out her hair and, hopping on one leg, she grabbed a shoe from the floor of the car, shoved it onto her foot and then did the same with the other. It was like watching a moth emerge from a chrysalis. She bent down and stared in at him and he had to avert his eyes from her pushed up breasts. She was his little sister, he didn’t need to see she was growing into a woman.
Carts barely recognised the face in front of him.
Cute, wide-eyed Avery had turned into a smoky-eyed beauty.
Somewhere in those features he caught a shadow of the kid she’d been only ten minutes before. Horror mixed in equal measure with admiration. Because she looked amazing. But it was like she’d thrown on a magic cloak, and she had no idea of its power.
Especially when her typical little Avery voice demanded, “Whatdyathink?”
His mouth drew tight as he struggled for words.
Crimson lips quivered, and her eyes squeezed as she wailed, “You don’t think I look pretty.”
Any minute now she was going to slam the car door and teeter off into the night. He couldn’t let that happen.
“You look beautiful, Aves, I’m not used to it, that’s all.” He put his hand out in a placatory gesture. “Now get back in the car and tell me where Zammy lives.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, and the churning in his stomach didn’t relent when they drew up outside a house throbbing with the heavy beat of music and the silhouettes of bodies gyrating at every window.
It felt like he was throwing Avery to the wolves. Avery, on the contrary, looked like she used to when she was about to dive into the coloured balls at IKEA. Even a thick coat of make-up couldn’t cover that level of glee.
She shot out the car, grasping her little purse and her bottle of Passion Pop, dived back in to kiss him on the cheek and giggled, “Don’t let your new girlfriend see that lipstick mark on your cheek. Thanks, goofballs, loveyaforever.”
“Be ready at ten sharp, okay?” he called out, but she simply tossed her head and slammed the door. With a heavy heart he watched her slender legs on the cusp between child and woman as she wobbled up the path, her bare shoulder blades
sticking out like wing buds above that tiny scrap of dress.
He shouldn’t let her go in there.
But how the hell could he stop her now?
Judith threaded her sewing machine and found her favourite podcast, The Very Serious Crafts on her phone apps. Another quick glance at the clock showed it wasn’t even 9 pm. The time had been dragging like the minute hand had weights attached to it. In her head she ran through the details again. Carts had said he’d pick up Avery at 10 sharp. By the time he’d taken her home it would be 10.30 and he’d be round at hers by 10.45 the latest. How could that still be so far away?
She’d spent the afternoon making pots of tea, reading Pleasure Your Partner (she’d found some very innovative techniques, along with Dr Rubekind’s gems of wisdom about communication).
She was so excited to start this phase of her journey with Carts.
Resolutely, Judith tapped her screen and the podcast started up. She got the thread to go through the needle of her sewing machine, and with her foot controlling the pedal, fed the material of the blouse she was making through it.
As always, when she got going on anything crafty, time looked after itself.
Which was why the next thing she knew, the podcast was over and both sleeves were sewn into place. She turned the blouse the right way round and held it up. It was Liberty print material, which was often hard to find, a symphony of tiny flowers, the material the kind of soft cotton that felt lovely against your skin. She’d bought a couple of metres a year or so back in a sale when she’d been on holiday in Melbourne. Surveying her handiwork, she noticed she’d puckered the stitches around the placement of the right sleeve. Damn it, she mustn’t have been concentrating. With a frustrated huff, she’d started to unpick the stitches when the doorbell rang.
Her nerves lit up.
Surely not Carts already? She hadn’t even got changed. Oh lord, she was sitting here in her bra, sewing. Unable to locate the T-shirt she’d just removed, she hurriedly put on the blouse instead. Heart thumping madly, she ran to the door and flung it open, only to have her mouth fall open in horror.
Mark was standing on the doorstep.
“Hi.” He grinned.
‘Oh—hi?”
They stared at each other.
“Are you going to leave me standing out here in the cold?”
“It’s not cold,” she pointed out.
“Well—anyway, can I come in?”
Before she could even think of refusing, he’d strolled past her, down the passage and into the kitchen with the air of someone who still lived here.
Judith scurried after him. “Are you looking for something? I’m pretty sure I brought the rest of your stuff over the other day.”
“No, no. Though I could do with a brownie.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Seriously? Anyway, I’ve got some news.” He popped his eyes and lifted his eyebrows. “We’ve advanced.”
What was he talking about? She must have stared blankly because he said with slight exasperation, “To the next level. We’ve decided we need to take our proposal to GameX.”
She rubbed at the line between her eyebrows. “Sorry, what?”
“Smidge.” Mark’s lower lip protruded. “I know you were never that interested in what I do. But come on, GameX is the biggest gaming convention in the world.”
“Oh, right.”
“Which means…” His look turned suddenly shifty. “I need to borrow a bit more cash. I’ll pay you back with interest once it’s been accepted. Which is a dead cert, of course. We’re going to make squillions.”
Something inside her threatened to snap. “You stole my savings, and now you’re asking for more.”
He planted his feet wide. “They were our savings. And I didn’t steal. I borrowed. And only because I had to spend my share on the bond and rent. That wasn’t really fair.”
“You chose to leave.” She stifled a little shudder. Thank heavens he had.
He waggled his brows. “Maybe we could rethink that. After GameX.”
“What?” Her eyes widened in horror. “No!”
“Oh c’mon, Smidge.” He put on his puppy dog look. Ew, how could she ever have found it remotely cute? “We were okay together.”
“Maybe once, years ago. When we’d actually do things together. You didn’t even want to be with me on holiday, remember?”
“I did, just not Scotland. We went to Japan two years ago. That was good.”
“Yes, because it coincided with a gaming convention.” She flicked a glance at the clock. Suddenly it seemed time had decided to speed up. “This discussion is going nowhere, you should lea—”
“I was thinking if you gave me a loan for another three grand, that’s tidy isn’t it? And I’ll pay you back all of it after we’ve got the contract signed.”
Her mouth gaped. “You’re crazy.” Now the tightness had spread to her scalp. “Besides, I don’t have it.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I don’t.”
“How about your dad? He’d give you a loan if you asked. He’s loaded.”
“No WAY!”
He looked incredulous. “You have no idea how big this is going to be.”
“No, Mark. I’m not asking Dad. I’m not enabling you anymore.”
He gave a scoff. “Don’t use your snotty therapy words on me.”
Judith summoned every bit of strength she had. “I want you to leave. Get out of my house and go. And I want my money back. All of it.”
He stared at her armpit and she realised the stitches she’d unpicked had left a gaping hole. “I always supported your crafting shit, why can’t you support my interests?”
His barefaced lie almost winded her. She’d retreated into craft because all the intimacy with him had gone.
She stood up and drew her shoulders back.
“Do you know what I’ve learnt since you left, Mark? Relationships need work from both partners. Give and take.” Seriously murderous thoughts ran through her head. “And frankly, all you’ve done these past few years is take.”
Mark gave her a hurt look. The minute hand of the clock above his head shifted to 10.36.
Now, as well as wanting to strangle him, Judith was beginning to panic.
Meeting Dan for a curry had been a mistake. Like, seriously, what a dumb as shite idea to eat curry before a night with the woman of your dreams. Okay, the plan was he’d avoid his favourite garlic naan, stick to plain rice and something really mild in the spice department.
“How about we order a chicken phall?” Dan said as they walked into the plush deep red and gold interior of Vavoom Vindaloo. “Give ourselves the ultimate challenge?”
Carts shook his head. “You go for it, I’ll stick with veggo tonight.”
“No way, dude. You’re turning into a fucking rabbit. I’ll have to sever ties if you go on like this.” He punched Carts’ arm playfully. They both knew they’d still be mates in the nursing home, probably trundling down on their gophers to Vavoom Vindaloo if it still existed.
“You have a phall, and blow your sphincter out. Self-torture’s lost its appeal lately,” Carts said. After they’d been shown to their table, he perused the menu desperately. Maybe he’d settle for the kids’ nuggets and chips.
A vegetable biryani was probably the safest bet.
When their dishes arrived, Dan rubbed his hands together. “Watch me clean this up.”
“And wait for it to clean you out.” Carts couldn’t help a smirk. “Hope you’ve got nothing planned for tomorrow morning, mate.”
“Just a date with the dunny.” Dan sniggered and started to shove forkfuls of red sauce-covered chicken into his mouth. Carts snapped off a bit of pappadum and looked askance from under his newly trimmed fringe. Dan would need to clean up his act—literally—if he ever wanted a relationship that lasted longer than a weekend.
He wondered how his own dating position would be by tomorrow morning. It felt like he was about to walk across bro
ken glass or hot coals, or possibly both. He could see some wonderful place on the other side, but the anticipation was pure torture.
His throat closed up and he nearly choked on a morsel of pappadum.
Was he ready to take the next step?
It had been amazing giving Judith pleasure, but he knew she wanted to return the favour. And heck, he wanted that too. Desperately.
But he’d only attended one Tantra session. Learning this stuff was a lifetime’s work. Who was he kidding here, thinking that because he’d managed to curb his desire and bring Judith to a screaming climax once, that would suffice?
Okay—Maybe they could just lie on the bed and cuddle and he’d pluck up the courage to tell her about his little problem. Nope, back up the truck. That was not going to happen.
Jesus Christ, he was more anxious than he’d ever been dating a woman before.
And then it struck him. Sure, he could give, but could he take? Could he open his heart and relax into the possibility that Judith could truly care about him?
Could he open up and simply trust?
All this nibbled at the back of his mind like a manic squirrel while he crunched through pappadums and ate his biryani, which seemed innocuous enough, and a bowl of salad. He had breath freshener along with the pack of condoms in the car. He’d also packed a toothbrush and he was wearing silk boxers, which kept rubbing disconcertingly and sending frissons of sensation to his groin.
He tried to focus on Dan, who was talking about choosing the new captain of his rugby team.
“Go on, dare you to try some,” Dan said, gesturing with his fork. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek and his eyes were watering profusely.
Carts shook his head. Not a hope in hell of him risking any other disasters below the waist. His dick was enough to contend with.
He’d just decided he’d eaten enough—his anxiety had made his stomach feel like a tightly closed fist anyway—when a vibration from his phone on the table drew his gaze. Then another.