It's Been a Pleasure, Noni Blake

by Claire Christian

  ‘No. I’ll message him tomorrow, see if he wants to get a drink, I guess.’

  ‘Yes. Perfect.’ Lil laughs.

  ‘This trip is about putting me first, and about what I want, so I’m treading carefully,’ I add and Lil smiles at me with kind blue eyes. We’re having one of those meals—one of those conversations—that instantly cuts through all of the bullshit and gets straight to the heart of who we are and how we’re feeling. I find it fascinating that some of the most honest, vulnerable, intimate conversations I’ve had in my life have been with near strangers. I’ve told Lil things tonight that I haven’t told many people. Things about my baby, my guilt, my grief and the complete mindfuck that is even beginning to wonder about whether I’ll have another child. Or whether I even want to. I’ve told her about the shame and heartache I feel when I see friends post photos of their babies growing up, or make announcements about second or third babies. How I want to scream at them for being so inconsiderate. And then I feel selfish and shit, because their news is joyous, of course. We’ve talked about how I cycle through variations of these feelings every single day, and that I’m not quite sure where they fit now. Lil listens and nods and she doesn’t say much at all. And I’m so grateful for it.

  ‘Go easy on yourself though, Noni. The idea that everyone is on the same timeline and that we’re all striving for perfection is absolute bullshit. There’s always mess. Always. We’re always having to clean up, or process, something. All we can do about it is be kind to ourselves.’ She sips from her wine glass. ‘I spent so much of my life wasting energy on people who treated me like shit. Real assholes. But the most devastating thing, once I’d done the fucking work to get rid of the assholes, was that I realised I was still left with one. Me. I was a real dick to myself for so long. Brutal. No more assholes kind of became my mantra.’

  ‘I love it,’ I tell her.

  Lil tells me more about her past, her shit relationship with her parents, dumb boyfriends she had when she was younger, and then a traumatic relationship with her first husband, who was abusive in every sense. She survived it for fifteen years until one night her teenage son stood up to him in an attempt to protect her and she said that something snapped. Something primal. She grabbed her kid and walked out the door with just the clothes on her back and she started again.

  I feel a pang of guilt as Lil tells me about her life. Guilty because my worries and insecurities seem so small compared to Lil’s. My worries about the pleasure quest seem so unfounded compared to completely starting your life over again.

  ‘You’re very good, Noni,’ she says, as we share the most incredible baklava.

  ‘What?’

  ‘At hiding it.’ She pops another spoonful into her mouth and closes her eyes, savouring it.

  ‘Hiding what?’ I ask.

  ‘Your pity face. This is the moment in the story where people feel desperately uncomfortable and don’t know where to put their feelings and then not I end up counselling them about it.’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t want to be that person.’ I shake my head, knowing exactly what she means. It’s partly why I’ve gotten so good at not talking about what happened to me. My own feelings are difficult enough to deal with, let alone someone else’s.

  ‘No one does. No one does it intentionally.’

  ‘Can I be honest with you?’ I ask.

  ‘I would want nothing else.’

  ‘I was actually thinking about myself.’ Lil laughs loudly, and so I nod and continue. ‘About how freaking out about my quest is so ridiculous. I’ve been so worried about my intentions, and now I don’t really understand why. Or I do, but I feel stupid that it felt so scary. That simply wanting to be happier caused me so much anxiety. I feel like a fuckwit.’

  ‘You’re not a fuckwit. You’re human.’ Lil’s neat manicured hand grabs mine. ‘You’re a woman,’ she adds and we stare at each other.

  ‘And also I’m feeling that life is desperately unfair and I’m sorry you had to go through any of that.’ I place my hand on top of hers.

  ‘Me too,’ she says and we smile and clink our glasses together.

  ‘I don’t think we can compare shit. We all go through it. One person’s trauma doesn’t negate someone else’s feelings. They’re still legitimate. I just wish we’d all stop being so hard on ourselves all the time. And I mean, all the fucking time,’ Lil says.

  ‘I’m trying really hard.’

  ‘That’s all we can do. Now,’ she says, changing the topic, ‘are you actually going to let me take your photo?’ She smiles brazenly.

  ‘Yes. Yes I am.’

  ‘Well, my love, that’s great fucking news. Can I ask you something else?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Do you want a job? With me?’

  ‘What? Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I thought of you instantly. I need someone to help out on a project I’m doing about bodies and taking up space, and pleasure. Being naked in nature. It’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Lil, that sounds amazing.’

  ‘It would be an assisting gig. Bits and bobs. Running errands, answering emails, helping on shoots, reminding me to breathe. A couple of weeks. I didn’t know if you had a plan or you were moving on, but I thought I’d ask.’

  ‘I’m very, very interested,’ I tell her, and I am. I want to be around Lil, I want to hear her speak more, I want to hear her stories and take in as much of her wisdom as possible. Something in me says say yes. So I do. ‘I’d love to work with you. Absolutely.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ She beams. ‘I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun.’

  23

  We decide the best way to solidify our new-found intimacy and celebrate our new working relationship is to drink. Tequila. In a backpacker pub. Lil has accosted a group of three Swedish tourists and is making them speak Swedish for us. When they do, we obnoxiously repeat what they’ve said and laugh loudly.

  The music is loud, the air is smoky, and I am flirting and drunk and being outrageous and I feel happy. Horny. One of the boys is flirting with me. A lovely, chubby, bearded man who keeps trying to dance with me but has no sense of rhythm. He’s cute. I can’t remember his name. I know I could have sex with this man if I wanted to, and that knowledge is making me feel a kind of wild power. Plus I’m wearing the fucking lingerie, which is also fuelling this powerful energy. I feel sexy. I don’t want this Swedish man, though, I want the Viking. I pull out my phone.

  Hey, I text and I wait. Smooth, Noni. Smooth. Within seconds my phone lights up.

  Did you really just ‘hey’ me? he replies.

  I call. Beau answers straight away. ‘Well, hello,’ he says.

  ‘It’s 2 a.m, isn’t that what you’re meant to do? I thought it was a thing. To hey,’ I bluster. I am drunk.

  He laughs. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m at a pub with a group of Swedish backpackers.’

  ‘Oh, really. How’s that?’

  ‘It’s fine. What are you doing?’

  ‘Are you trying to booty call me, Noni?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Do you want to be booty called? ’Cause I’m in Edinburgh. So…’ I say. And I’m sure I can hear Beau smile on the phone.

  ‘Do you want to come over?’

  ‘Yes,’ I tell him. I hang up the phone, kiss Lil on the cheek, grab my jacket and walk through the double doors of the pub and into a cab. I’m walking up to Beau’s apartment and pushing the buzzer all in about, oh, ten minutes.

  Beau’s voice crackles through the intercom. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘I come quickly.’ NONI! I mean, really. He pushes the buzzer and I walk inside. I take a minute to catch my breath before I let myself in. And there he is, hair out and wearing a dressing gown, his face beaming.

  ‘I like your dressing gown.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘Very,’ I say and he laughs.

  ‘How was your trip?’

  ‘It was great.
Pleasure-filled.’ He’s smiling at me from across the room, watching me as I take my coat off and drop it on the floor.

  ‘And what brings you back to Edinburgh?’

  ‘A job, actually.’

  ‘Really?’ He sounds pleased.

  ‘So, how does this work?’ I ask.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve never booty-called anyone before.’

  ‘I think you’re meant to seduce me.’

  ‘Take your dressing gown off,’ I say and he does. He’s naked. I feel my chest and cheeks flush.

  ‘Take your dress off.’ He smiles.

  I do. And I praise the pleasure quest and the braided beauty at the lingerie shop for her impeccable suggestions when I see Beau’s face as my dress falls to the floor.

  ‘You look—’

  ‘This old thing.’ Noni, don’t be a fuckhead. ‘Now what?’ I ask.

  ‘You called me. What do you want to do?’

  ‘I want to know what you want to do.’

  ‘That’s not how this—’

  I cut him off. ‘Tell me a fantasy. Tell me what you want to do to me.’ His eyes are locked on me. On my body with all of its new strappy lace fixings.

  ‘I want to fuck you,’ he says, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Where?’ I ask.

  ‘Over the back of the couch.’

  I smile, trying to be sexy, even though I know I’m swaying a little. I kick my boots off and keep reminding myself to not stand awkwardly, to look like a woman who is used to wearing lingerie. To act like a fucking sex goddess.

  ‘What do you want, Noni?’

  ‘I don’t—’ I stop myself. I was about to say I don’t know even though I do know. Even though my body is telling me exactly what it wants. I think about Amsterdam. I’m only going to say exactly what I want from now on.

  ‘I want you to go down on me.’ I walk to the wall and lean my back against it. ‘Here.’

  Beau strides across the room and stands so close to me, looking me in the eye, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He looks at me and I become very aware of my breath and my chest moving up and down. Up and down. Keeping his eyes on mine, he kneels down, running his hands down the sides of my legs. He starts kissing my stomach, right under my belly button, and now I understand why that frame is there. He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder. I clutch the wall. He doesn’t take my knickers off, he just pulls them to the side and starts licking. Slowly. JESUS. The moment a self-conscious thought creeps in I tell it to fuck off, and instead I give over to the pleasure. Beau is enjoying himself. A lot. He’s making low, soft, sexy sounds, and I am feeling more sensual than I ever have. His hands grab at my arse, and I rock my hips into him, my own hands running over my body. His tongue and fingers are all entirely focused on me. My thighs quiver. I moan loudly, over and over again, until I want more. More of him.

  I grab his hair and pull his head back to look up at me.

  He kisses my stomach, across my boobs, and up my chest to my neck and lands at my ear, whispering, ‘What do you want, Noni?’

  It’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me, ever. I push him back over to the couch so he’s sitting. I want to kiss and lick and bite every inch of his body. I want his skin to feel as alive as mine does. I start at his collar bones, licking up to his ear, nibbling his earlobe.

  ‘What do you want, Beau?’ I mimic him.

  ‘You,’ he says, grabbing at my body, but I pull away. I kiss down his chest, running my nails down his body and thigh until I get to his hip where I scrape my teeth lightly against his skin. He squirms. I like the sounds he’s making. I like teasing him. I like learning where he likes my tongue, my fingers, the pace he likes. What makes him feel good. What makes him moan.

  ‘If you keep doing that I’m gonna—’ He sighs.

  I look up at him, moving my tongue deliberately while our eyes are locked. He moans again, moving his hips away as his hands grab at my shoulders, pulling me towards his face. He kisses me hard.

  Then he quickly dashes to his bedroom. He tears open a condom packet as he walks back into the room, sits back down exactly where he was, and puts it on. ‘Stand up,’ he says. He takes my hand, guiding me to stand between his legs, taking every part of me in. Grabbing either side of my knickers, he slides them down. I straddle him. Rocking my hips. His arms wrap around my waist tightly. Our bodies press against each other. Our mouths, tongues and teeth clash passionately.

  ‘Fuck, Noni.’ I like it when he says my name. This feels incredible. My body knows exactly what it wants, and my hips move deliberately. ‘Slow down,’ he says, closing his eyes. ‘I’m going to—I just need a—this outfit is—’ I don’t slow down. I keep going. I want him. I want him to lose himself. I want to be responsible for his pleasure.

  ‘Noni—’ he gasps, his hands squeezing my hips tightly as he pushes into me and I lean into his neck, biting softly. He groans and shudders. And then smiles drowsily, kissing me.

  ‘You’re beautiful, woman,’ he mumbles and I laugh, folding into him.

  An alarm buzzes me awake, and I feel Beau’s arm slide over my waist to the bedside table to turn it off.

  ‘Good morning.’ He spoons me, nuzzling into my neck, and I stretch out and into him so our bodies lie flush together. I feel small, wrapped up in him and his doona.

  ‘What time is it?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s 10 a.m. I have to be at work in an hour,’ he says. He doesn’t move though, and I hug his hand and kiss his knuckles. His finger starts tracing circles on my stomach and my legs, sliding between my thighs. I bite my lip and push my hips back into him, signalling my desire, for him, for this gesture, for his hand on my body and his breath on my neck. Moments of pleasure pass but my wanting gets too big for just his fingers. I want him. All of him. On top of me. In me.

  I roll to my back and pull him onto me. The craving is immense. He reads my need and thrusts deep and I moan loudly. It feels so good.

  ‘Fuck me,’ I say, and there’s a far-off distant thought that nods, impressed.

  He buries his face into my neck and pushes one leg up further with his bicep. I startle myself with my own flexibility as I grab at his back, his arse, clutching him as closely as I possibly can.

  ‘Good morning,’ I say with a smile, kissing his face all over once we’re finished. He rolls over to lie on his back and I settle in the nook of his arm.

  ‘I love all of these,’ I say, tracing the tattoos on his chest. His tattoos are mostly old-school designs in primary colours. A mix of big and small pieces. This is the first time I’ve really looked at them. ‘Do they all mean things?’ I ask.

  ‘Mostly,’ he says. ‘Designs I liked, artists I thought were cool. Moments in time. Being young and stupid.’ He points to a skateboard on his hip with the words ‘ride or die’ and chuckles. ‘Eighteen. I thought I was well hard.’

  I laugh, taking them all in. There are pin-up ladies with bright flowers in their flowing hair, a dagger surrounded by blooms, a thick-lined blue eye, a crab, a treasure chest and ship, an hourglass with the sand evenly balanced. There’s an anatomical heart bursting with flowers like a vase in the centre of his chest. The words ‘don’t fret’ are tattooed on his knuckles.

  ‘These?’ I ask, pointing to three intricate butterflies that take up his whole bicep.

  ‘My mum, my nan, my sister.’ He turns around to show me the inside of his arm with a chrysalis surrounded by flowers. ‘My kid.’

  He has a kid. Shit. ‘How old?’

  ‘Zeppelin. He’s sixteen,’ Beau says, smiling. ‘He’s awesome.’ He glances at the clock. ‘Fuck. I’ve gotta get ready.’ He smirks mischievously at me as he gets up and walks out of the bedroom.

  A sixteen-year-old.

  I walk naked into the lounge room, pick up his dressing gown and put it on, then find my bag where I’d dropped it by the door. I look at my phone—there’s a message from Lindell. A video. I push play.

  ‘What do you want to say to Aun
ty Nono?’ Lindell says from behind the camera. Audre and Julius are in the frame, sitting on the couch.

  ‘We’re changing your name.’ They giggle.

  ‘What are we changing her name to?’ Lindell prompts.

  ‘Aunty Yes-Yes!’ Audre screeches gleefully. They dance on the couch, jumping up and down. Audre is wearing a hard hat with a tool belt wrapped around her waist and Julius has a long lilac cape that he swishes as he jumps.

  Lindell comes into the frame. ‘I had nothing to do with this. This is all her doing but it made me happy. I fucking—’

  ‘Papa!’ Audre bellows, sounding shocked.

  ‘Sorry.’ He raises his eyebrows at me and it feels like he’s right here in the room in front of me. ‘I freaking miss you, my best. And I love you. And I’m proud of you.’ He kisses the screen. ‘What do we say?’ He sits between the kids and they clamber all over him. ‘We love you, Aunty Yes-Yes,’ he says.

  ‘We love you Aunty Yes-Yes,’ they bellow. ‘Aunty Yes-Yes. Aunty Yes-Yes!’

  And I laugh as familiar, happy, homesick tears fill my eyes.

  ‘What’s that face?’ I look up to see a shirtless Beau striding towards me, looking concerned.

  ‘Love,’ I say.

  He wraps his arms around my waist and burrows into my neck. I push play again and he watches, laughing gently as the kids squeal in delight.

  ‘They’re all beautiful.’

  ‘I know right.’

  ‘Aunty Yes-Yes?’ he asks.

  ‘Aunty No-No. No-Ni. No-No.’ I sound it out.

  ‘Excellent.’ He kisses my neck. ‘You never told me about your new job.’

  ‘It’s helping a photographer friend of mine. I met her at that retreat I went on. She’s amazing. She’s shooting this naked-in-nature series.’

  ‘Sounds awesome.’ He nuzzles my shoulder. ‘Seeing as you’re sticking around for a bit, will you let me take you out on a proper date?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say quickly.

  Aunty Yes-Yes indeed.

  24

  My mum has been an emergency room nurse forever. My favourite stories of hers are the ones about the weird shit that people do to require a trip to Emergency. Mostly these stories involve people lighting things on fire that shouldn’t be lit on fire or jumping off things that they shouldn’t have jumped off—like the lady who jumped off a too-high fence, landed strangely, and broke both her ankles and both her wrists. Now that’s a bad day. There are also the people who come in with things stuck up, and/or in, their private parts. These are my absolute favourite because the stories that people tell to explain why they’re in the emergency room are the best. Like the man who had a whole mackerel stuck in his anus, who told my mother that he’d been hosing out the cold room in the fish shop he works in and slipped—which, similarly, is how a lady got a coke can stuck up her clacker, and another man a vacuum rod. Just a vigorous naked Saturday-morning clean and whoops. I’ve never cleaned anything that deeply.