The Big Ohhh

by Ashton, Nikki

  It had been a couple of nights since my impromptu date with Charlie and I wasn’t ashamed to say that I’d missed him.

  We’d texted a couple of times over the last two days, but I certainly didn’t want to appear too eager and as we’d already agreed to go out on Saturday night there wasn’t any real reason to contact him; other than the fact that I missed him. The texts had been jokey and light, one including a video of an old lady whose teeth fell out while she was dancing. All nice and friendly, even though what I’d really wanted to say had been ‘I had to masturbate last night because I had a dream about you’.

  “Do you think this top goes with these trousers?” Polly asked as she twirled from side to side in front of my bedroom mirror which bloody well interrupted my thoughts of masturbating to images of Charlie.

  We were heading into town for a few drinks and she’d got wind that Declan was going to be out, so had arrived at my house wearing one outfit and carrying another three, desperate for my opinion on which one would have most hope at pulling my brother.

  “Yes, it looks lovely.” I patted her shoulder as I walked past in my underwear, I’d still not decided on what I’d be wearing.

  “Yeah but do you think Declan will like it?”

  She did a full turn in time to Hot Chocolate singing Every 1’s A Winner and looked at her backside in the mirror, smoothing a hand over it.

  “Polly,” I sighed. “We’ve talked about this before. As much as I love you and think you’re totally gorgeous, my brother doesn’t fancy you. Well, not Declan.”

  She gave me a serious look that furrowed her brow pretty severely.

  “I’ve told you; Toby is too young.”

  “Yes, but even I have to admit, he’s hot. Imagine how you’d feel walking into a bar with him, and,” I said and tapped her nose with my index finger, “he’s got that underwear job, so he’s going to be on advertising hoardings all over the place.”

  “Yeah and that’s when he’ll dump me for some gorgeous, stick thin model.”

  “Ah, so you do fancy him then.”

  I narrowed my eyes, daring her to disagree, even though I knew she would. We’d been having this same conversation for almost a year, since Toby had realised what Declan hadn’t; that my best friend was beautiful, smart and kind – she was a little bit of a pain in the arse princess at times, but generally, I loved her dearly.

  “No, I don’t. You know I don’t. I’m simply stating a fact that if I did allow myself to become a cougar, if only for the fact that I’m getting hornier and more desperate by the day, Toby is likely to dump me as soon as he becomes famous, which sounds as though it could be soon.”

  I rolled my eyes and pulled an electric blue coloured Skater dress from my wardrobe and slipped it off the hanger.

  “Toby isn’t like that. He’s actually one of the sweetest men I know.”

  “You’re always moaning about him,” Polly retorted, as she unbuttoned her top and whipped it over her head.

  “He’s an idiot and a pain in the neck most of the time, but he’s still the sweetest of my brothers. He’s extremely kind and he loves animals, now if we’re were to talk about Declan. He-.”

  “No.” Polly held her hand up to stop me talking. “I don’t want to know what a slut he is, or how he never gives a girl his real phone number, or the fact that he regularly gives girls a false name. He’s who I want.”

  “Why though?” I exclaimed as I stepped into my dress. “He’s horrible to you and he’s not even as good looking as Toby and why are you horny? I thought you had sex with that guy you met at the gym.”

  I could have sworn Polly had told me that they’d met up one night for a drink and she’d ended up having sex with him the next day in the office at the gym.

  “No.” She looked extremely affronted by my suggestion. “I certainly did not.”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “I thought you said you did. Can you zip me up? That cami’ looks great by the way.”

  “You like it? I love the colour.” As she straightened the strap of the peacock blue camisole, Polly strutted to me and zipped up my dress before pulling my hair back from over my shoulder. “No fancy updo tonight?”

  “Nah, feeling the natural look tonight. The red or yellow shoes?”

  “Oh, definitely yellow. Anyway, I told you I’m saving myself for Declan, I want to be primed and ready for when he sees the light and decides he wants to ravish me.”

  I burst out laughing, but soon morphed my grin into a solemn line when I saw Polly’s stern face.

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “I mean by the time that happens your hole may well have sealed itself up as tight as Tutankhamun’s tomb. There won’t be no one getting in that thang gurl.”

  Evidently me, and my Deep South accent weren’t as funny as I thought, because Polly slapped me with her bag.

  * * *

  Polly finally decided on her outfit and we made our way down stairs but when we reached the bottom I groaned loudly; Declan was in front of the mirror taking the opportunity to admire himself.

  All my brothers were good looking, particularly Toby, but none of them actually made much of a fuss about it, Toby especially – oh, maybe except for Declan. He thought he was God’s gift to womanhood and talked about it at every opportunity.

  We all looked pretty similar to be honest. All of us had Dad’s eyes, which were big, grey and sparkly, the boys had his square chin while I had Mum’s little pointy one, and we were all blessed with her long lashes. As for our colouring, we were varying shades of brown, although I dyed my mousey brown hair to a deep chestnut colour. Toby of course was the exception and had inherited a rogue ginger gene from somewhere. Dad often joked about Mum getting the gas man in to read the meter a lot, nine months before Toby was born, but there really was no getting away from the fact that Toby was most definitely from Ivan the Fucking Terrible’s loins – he even farted in the same pitch as him.

  “Where are you off to tonight, looking so handsome?” Polly asked in a sickly-sweet voice that I’d only ever heard before in horror films that centred on psychotic children.

  Declan gave her a cursory glance through the mirror and then went back to fiddling with the collar of his slim fitting shirt.

  “Polly asked you a question, you ignoramus.” I stood on one foot and poked the toe of my yellow stiletto in his arse.

  “Didn’t realise she actually wanted an answer.”

  He swung around to face us, a scowl on his face as he looked us up and down.

  “See you’re both starring in Cinderella again tonight girls. Is it a sell out again?”

  “Ooh you’re hilarious, aren’t you?” I replied and screwed my face up in disgust. “So where are you going?”

  I heard Polly take a deep breath behind me and I knew I was going to have to work harder to get her off this stupid crush she had on him.

  “Town.”

  “Want to share a cab?” I asked, because even though he was a self-centred prick at times, Declan was nothing but generous and would stump up the taxi fare.

  “I suppose so, but it’ll be here in…” He glanced at his watch. “Three minutes, so you’ll need to be ready.”

  “Oh, we’re ready, Declan,” Polly simpered.

  Declan offered her a tight smile. “Great. Mum, we’re off,” he called toward the lounge. “Quick, go before she comes out and offers us condoms.”

  Declan ushered us to the front door and pushed me a little too enthusiastically causing me to stumble on my heels.

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Before you go…”

  Too late; Mum appeared in the doorway of the lounge.

  “No Mother, I don’t need any condoms,” Declan groaned reaching around me to open the door to freedom.

  “Willow wha-.”

  “No, me neither,” I snapped, stopping her mid-sentence.

  “Polly, sweetheart. Condoms?”

  I groaned as Mum held her hand up and let the condoms unfold in
to one long strip. I added an extra groan because I knew Polly and she loved to appear nice and sensible, and loved to please my parents, presumably so they’d like her more than me.

  “Ooh please, Mrs. Dixon that would be amazing.”

  As she reached for the silver foil strip, Declan leaned closer to my ear.

  “And that is why I will never go out with your damn friend.”

  “Why, because she uses condoms?” I asked, a little perturbed by his attitude to safe sex.

  “No, because she’s a bloody arse licker and I ain’t letting anyone anywhere near my backside.”

  I snorted out a laugh and had to admit my brother had a point.

  When you’re out in a public place, disappear for a few minutes then, when you return, hand your partner your knickers – make sure you remove any panty liners or stray pubes first.

  * * *

  Willow

  As soon as the taxi pulled up outside the new gin bar in town, Declan thrust some money at the driver and pretty much legged it, shouting a ‘see ya’, over his shoulder at us. Polly stood and watched him; her lips pouted sullenly as her hands hung loosely at her sides.

  “Rude.”

  “I have been telling you that for years, and at least twice a day for the last three years, since you decided that you fancied him.”

  I started to walk in the opposite direction to where my brother had gone, only going a few steps when I realised that Polly wasn’t following me.

  I swung around to see her in the exact same position, still staring after Declan.

  “Are you coming?”

  She looked at me over her shoulder and gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “Good, because Jasmine will be waiting.”

  Polly scurried after me as we made our way to the bar where we’d arranged to meet Jasmine. She was bound to be early, she always was, and she was also bound to be engrossed in her phone doing whatever social media she thought necessary in her role as an ‘influencer’, whatever the hell that meant.

  Jasmine had never once influenced me about anything. Lovely girl that she was, she had questionable taste in everything, particularly clothes – everything she wore had to have a designer label on it and couldn’t cost less than three figures, otherwise it was, and I quote ‘cheap tat that should only be seen on a 9 a.m. drinker at Wetherspoons on laundry day’. Safe to say, Jasmine was a snob, plain and simple. Personally, I’d queued up outside Wetherspoons waiting for it to open for a hair of the dog on many a girls’ weekend – Jasmine really didn’t know what she was missing.

  As Polly and I often shopped at charity shops, we had regular heated debates with her, especially when we picked something designer up for less than a tenner. It irked her pride and fried her overly materialistic brain.

  I smiled to myself when we walked through the door and spotted her, as I expected, peering down at her phone and shaking her head.

  “Hey,” I said as I leaned in to kiss her cheek. “What you up to?”

  “I’m replying to a comment on my Insta about a post I made about a charcoal face mask that I tried.”

  “Why are you shaking your head?” Polly asked as she took Jasmine’s other proffered cheek.

  “Because it bloody hurt trying to get it off and I likened it to having my VJ waxed.” She looked up at us and flashed a smile that looked more like she was trying to get a piece of food out of her teeth with her tongue. “And some idiot called me a wimp.”

  “So how have you responded?” Polly asked.

  “I told them to go and pull each of their pubes out individually with a pair of tweezers, try the face mask, and then tell me which hurt the most. I’ve bet them a Kate Spade credit card holder that the face mask hurts the most.”

  I furrowed my brow in confusion. “You do know that they’ll lie,” I offered as I glanced at what was in her glass as she was the sort of person who changed their favourite drink every week, dependent on what was on trend.

  “Nope they can’t,” she replied airily. “I’ve insisted on video evidence or all bets are off.”

  “Who the hell would video themselves tweezering their bush?” I scoffed.

  “Someone who wants a Kate Spade credit card holder, of course.”

  Jasmine’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped into a perfect, astonished, little ‘o’ at my apparent ignorance of credit card holders and people’s desire for them.

  “Well I wouldn’t want one,” I muttered. “What’s wrong with keeping your cards in your bra like any normal person?”

  Jasmine sat up straight and made a strange choking noise. “You’re going to tell me that you keep your phone in there too, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Duh.”

  “Oh my God, you’re so…ugh, I have no words for you. Please tell me that you wear matching underwear at least.

  “Well not if I’m wearing black trousers and a white top, no.”

  “That’s acceptable, but otherwise I can’t possibly believe you’re a friend of mine if you mix and match willy-nilly.”

  Polly snorted quietly; she knew full well how much I loved to wind up Jasmine. It was my most favourite hobby and had been since we first met at high school when we were eleven years of age and I’d led her to believe that we ate fish fingers and crinkle cut chips for our Christmas lunch because my mum was Turkish so wouldn’t eat turkey.

  “My collars and cuffs don’t match either,” I added, fishing my not Kate Spade purse out of my bag.

  “You mean...?” She looked at my head and then down toward my crotch. “Your VJ is not 515 Chocolate Truffle?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’d say it’s 69 House Mouse, to be honest.”

  Polly let out a huge roar of laughter before she slapped a hand to her mouth and earned herself a pure look of disdain from Jasmine, whose head threatened to fall off as it swivelled around on her neck so quickly.

  “Are you telling me that your pubes are the same colour as the hair on your head?” I asked, bringing Jasmine’s attention back to me.

  She widened her eyes and gave a little ‘what do you think’ head shake.

  “Bloody hell.” I groaned.

  “Really?” Polly asked.

  “Yes,” Jasmine snapped. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to the loo. Aperol Spritz for me, please.”

  She pushed up from her stool and sashayed away, flicking her long, hot pink hair over her shoulder.

  “She’s weird. Why are we friends with her again?”

  Polly shrugged and sat down at the high table. “I think it’s for the free stuff she gives us.”

  I thought about the bottle of gorgeous mango and pineapple shower gel Jasmine had been asked to try and given to me.

  “Oh yeah,” I sighed. “That’s why.”

  * * *

  An hour later, we were in a different bar having a discussion about Charlie. I thought I’d be able to tell Jasmine about him without having to be honoured with the benefit of her advice, but evidently, I thought wrong.

  “You see, seeing him as often as you have already, I do think you’re lifting his expectation of your relationship,” she said with a haughty tilt of her head as she swirled her straw into her drink which was the colour of my pee when I was dehydrated.

  “Maybe I want him to have high expectations.”

  “He is gorgeous,” Polly offered. “I think you’re punching way above, to be honest.”

  “Oh, thanks for that. Her I’d expect that from,” I said and pointed at Jasmine, “but not you. You’re my friend.”

  “I’m your friend,” Jasmine protested.

  I looked at her, looked at Polly and then back to Jasmine. “I’m going to the loo, be back soon.”

  As I pushed through the crowd of people around us, I thought about what Jasmine had said and I was sure that the number of dates we’d had was the right thing for Charlie and me. It wasn’t building up expectations because it was exactly what I wanted; a boyfriend who I saw more than one or two nigh
ts a week, depending on whether he was at a loose end or not. Jasmine might not have been ready to settle down with one man, but I was. And who thought of that phrase anyway – settle down. There was no settling about it. I wasn’t settling for Charlie, he appeared to be the sort of man I’d hoped to meet for a long time. He was funny, sweet, and as fit as fuck, so no, settling was not the right word at all. Okay, we needed to work on the sex part, but I was sure once we managed to do it without interruption and without alcohol in our blood streams it would be awesome.

  As I smiled about the possibilities of what might be to come, I turned the corner to the loos only to come face to face with Ruben. He was standing close to another guy who had his back to me, but as soon as my brother spotted me, he almost jumped a foot away from him.

  “Oh hi,” I said and stopped mid-stride. “Didn’t know you were out tonight.”

  Ruben glanced warily at the other guy, who was a little taller than him and had messy blond hair.

  “Yeah, last minute thing,” he mumbled. “This is my sister.”

  The guy looked at me and thrust a hand into his pocket, before offering me his other one.

  “Hi, I’m Cane.”

  Before I could take his hand to shake it, Ruben stepped between us.

  “Who you out with?” he asked as his eyes darted everywhere but not once looked at me.

  “Polly and Jasmine. Join us if you like.” I grinned as I knew that would be his worst nightmare.

  “No, I’m going home now.”

  He abruptly turned to Cane and drew in a breath. “I’ll catch you later.”

  Cane nodded and then looked over at me before he gave me a chin dip and left. As Ruben and I watched him go, the atmosphere between my brother and me crackled with his animosity, as usual, his lips in a grim line as he watched me carefully.

  “Are you spying on me?” he asked.

  “No. I’m going for a pee. I am allowed, aren’t I?”

  “You never come here, why are you here tonight?”

  “We fancied a change. What’s your problem, got something to hide?” I asked as I noticed how he was almost jumping on the spot.