* * *
Willow
I walked across the park on the way home from work worried that it had been two days since Charlie had stormed out of my bedroom, out of the house, and seemingly out of my life and I was miserable. I’d left numerous voicemails and sent a similar amount of text messages, but had no response, not even a ‘we’re over’ reply and all I’d been able to do was mope around and play ‘The Sound of Bread’ on repeat.
I knew I liked him but hadn’t realised how much until the prospect of not seeing him again had hit me. We didn’t see each other every day, but we did send daily texts or had quick calls during the day, to have no contact at all was akin to my Netflix subscription being taken away, only worse.
As for Ivan the Fucking Terrible, I was barely speaking to him, even though he hadn’t really done anything wrong. I’d been the one to let it drop to Charlie that the phone sex had been my dad’s idea. I should have kept my stupid, big gob shut. The problem was, I agreed with Ivan, we needed some quality time where Charlie wasn’t worrying about his brother or his mother and I wasn’t expecting half my family to be waiting outside the door ready with some lame joke or jibe.
Yes, I was worried that it was the time where we were supposed to have the best sex ever and weren’t, but it wasn’t like Charlie couldn’t get me horny, he really could, it was the final outcome that wasn’t the best it could be and I truly believed if we had some time alone that would be different. I had to believe that, because I liked him so much and while sex shouldn’t be the most important part of a relationship, it was important. If things between Charlie and I were going to go further, we really didn’t need something that big coming between us.
As I had that thought I started to giggle to myself, because there was no doubt that Charlie was big and I really didn’t mind ‘that’ coming between us. He wasn’t so big it was uncomfortable, but big enough that I bet he was never scared to walk naked around the men’s changing rooms, even in the middle of winter. He was bigger than any of my past lovers anyway.
I started to giggle again, ‘lovers’, it made me sound like a middle-aged woman whose husband was too old to service her, so she had secret lovers. Then it struck me that Charlie may now be classed as a past lover and my heart felt heavy.
“Hey.”
My head shot up and the heart that had only moments before felt heavy, suddenly sprang to life. Charlie was standing in front of me and was holding a bunch of flowers. Not some huge, over the top bouquet, but the most gorgeous bunch of hand tied wildflowers, the prettiest things I had ever seen.
“Hi,” I replied and slammed a hand against my stomach.
“These are for you.” He held them out to me and there was a small, shy smile on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out as I took the flowers. “I swear to you, I didn’t tell him anything. He was being…well, Ivan the Fucking Terrible. He was doing what he does best, sticking his nose into his kid’s business.”
Charlie took a deep breath and I thought he might turn around and leave, but he shook his head and took a step closer to me.
“No, I think he was right, and I also think I was being a stupid, pig headed man letting my pride get in the way.” He looked down at the floor and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, looking totally dejected. “So, sorry.”
“Charlie, you’ve nothing to be sorry about,” I said and reached out a hand to place on his bicep. “It’s only circumstances. We haven’t really had anywhere to go to be alone.”
He looked up at me and his green eyes flashed with regret. “Yeah, most twenty-five-year-old men have a place of their own, not still sharing with their brother and mother.”
“Like I said; circumstances.” I moved my hand from his arm to cup the side of his face. “And most twenty-four-year-old women don’t have four idiot brothers and two interfering parents, but I do, so I think I’ve said this before, we’re pretty suited.”
Now he smiled at me. It was small and barely moved his lips, but it was definitely a smile. “I want to ask you something actually,” he said.
“Okay.”
I dropped my hand, but as soon as I did, Charlie took it in his and linked our fingers together. “I was wondering if you’d like to come away with me on Saturday night.”
He chewed on his lip, looking nervous, but I had no idea why because there was no question of what my answer would be.
“Oh my God. That would be brilliant. Where to?”
“Really?” he asked. “You want to go?”
“Yes of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I was a dick and stormed out on you and have ignored you for two days.” he laughed and shook his head. “Like I said, I was a dick.”
“I thought you’d dumped me,” I confessed with a rush of breath. “I was considering coming around to your house and camping on the doorstep until you’d see me.”
As though a tonne weight had been removed from him, Charlie’s shoulders relaxed, and he blew out his cheeks.
“No way, I was angry I’ll admit, but I never even thought about dumping you.” He pulled me closer, squashing the flowers between us as he wound his arms around my waist. “I missed you so fucking much.”
“Me too,” I whispered as I stood on my tiptoe to drop a kiss to his lips. “Don’t ever ignore me again if you’re mad at me, talk to me and tell me how angry you are.”
Charlie nodded and rested his forehead against mine. “I will, I promise.”
“So, where are we going?” I asked excitedly at the thought of a whole night away without any interruptions.
“Nothing fancy,” he said as he squeezed my waist. “It was a little short notice, but I got a really nice hotel just outside of Manchester and thought we could go and have a few cocktails in the evening before…”
His voice trailed off and I giggled.
“Before the main event?” I asked.
A deep groan came from the back of his throat and I felt his body stiffen. “Got to say, Will, I’m a bit nervous about that. Last time wasn’t my greatest moment was it?”
I felt awful and wished I hadn’t made a joke about it, but I didn’t want it to become a huge issue between us.
“Charlie,” I whispered. “You have to know how sexy you are, and how much you turn me on.”
He shrugged but didn’t speak.
“Seriously, you do,” I urged. “And I know it’ll be great; we’ll be alone and no chance of being interrupted.” Then a thought struck me. “What about Johnny, are you okay leaving him?”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well that’s another story.”
“You sure you’re okay about this?” I asked. “Because we don’t have to go away.”
He shook his head. “No, I want to take my girlfriend to a nice hotel for the night. I want my full attention to be on her alone, and I want to prove to her that I can make her come when I’m in the same room.”
His grin was cheeky and sexy and when he pulled me closer to kiss me, which pretty much decimated my flowers, I had no doubt that he was right.
To prevent yourself gagging while giving him a blow job, hold the base of his penis as you suck. That way you control how deep he goes. - unless of course, your gag reflex muscle is right next to your stomach like a horse.
* * *
Charlie
As we drove up the pebbled drive of the hotel, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. Two reasons; one, I hoped that it was as good as it looked on the website and two, well I hoped that I actually managed to give my girlfriend an orgasm after the last fail.
“Oh God, Charlie,” Willow squealed and bounced in her seat. “It’s gorgeous.”
She turned to me and grabbed my knee to give it a squeeze.
“I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“Well this is more than nice,” she gasped. “It’s gorgeous.”
As I pulled into a parking space, I looked up at the beautiful white, double-fronted, Georgian hotel. A few steps
led up to the duck egg blue front door and either side of that were flower beds, filled with wildflowers sweeping down to the sides of the steps, before flowing down to the bright green lawn in front of it. I don’t think I’d stayed anywhere as nice; certainly not as a kid. The only time we’d ever gone on holiday had been two nights in a leaky caravan in Wales, and that was only because Teresa had hooked up with some bloke who worked the funfairs and he’d moved on from our home town at the end of a rainy bank holiday weekend. Johnny and I had shared the small bedroom but had heard everything Teresa and her new boyfriend had got up to each night. Thankfully, he’d caught her nicking money from under his mattress, so after two days we were on our way back home.
“Thank you, so much.” Willow leaned across to kiss my cheek and her hand gave my leg another squeeze.
“My pleasure,” I replied and totally meant it. It really was a pleasure to make this girl smile. She was beautiful anyway, but when she smiled, fuck, the whole room lit up and if I was told I’d lose my sight, my biggest regret would be not being able to see that sunshine ever again.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and then opened the door and looked over my shoulder at Willow whose gaze was still on the hotel.
“You ready to see if it’s as good inside?” I asked.
As she clapped and bounced in her seat, I guessed that she was.
* * *
“Oh Charlie,” Willow gasped as she grabbed my hand. “It’s beyond beautiful. How comfy does that sofa look?”
I looked over at the huge pale green sofa which hugged the wall under a row of three windows and nodded, although I had to be honest, my main thought was Willow bent over it.
“Sir, can I help you?”
The man dressed in a black suit and pinstriped waistcoat gave us a broad, genuine smile.
“Yes please, I have a room booked for the name Monroe.”
As the man, whose name badge said he was called Geoff, looked at the computer, Willow sidled up beside me and linked her fingers with mine.
“Do we have to pretend we’re married?” she whispered.
I felt her shoulders shake as she laughed, so I tugged on her hand.
I bent a little to be level with her ear. “Yeah,” I whispered. “They think it’s our honeymoon so know not to disturb us, even if the place is on fire.”
This time her shoulders shuddered, and I heard a little moan and was hopeful the night was going to go well.
“I’m so sorry,” Geoff said and gave us an apologetic smile. “Your room isn’t quite ready, so could I offer you a drink with our compliments from the bar?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” I agreed and looked down at Willow. “You happy with that?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“Excellent. Leave your bags here and I’ll get Brian to take them up for you and if you go through there,” Geoff pointed to some double doors at the end of the reception area, “Bev will serve you.”
I was able to give Geoff a quick thank you before Willow tugged me toward the bar.
“I feel decadent,” she said. “I’m going to have a cocktail.”
“Okay, I may join you. What’re you going to have?”
Willow pushed open the door and paused as she looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “Hmm, maybe a Rude Boy.”
“Remind me what a Rude Boy is again?”
“Rum, Irish Stout, coffee, and nutmeg.” She grinned and rubbed her stomach. “Gorgeous.”
“Oh yeah, the one that sounds like a dessert and by the look of her,” I said and nodded toward the lady who I assumed was Bev. “I’m not sure she’ll have the ability.”
Willow followed my gaze and snorted out a laugh. A small, round woman with her chin in her hands leaned against the bar and she looked as though she’d just been told she had to go on a ten-mile hike, in high heels. Her face was crumpled and sad and I would bet that if she had a dog it was a bulldog.
“Oh my God,” Willow whispered. “She looks like she might cry.”
I shrugged and led her to the bar. “Hi,” I said brightly. “Our room isn’t ready, so Geoff suggested we come and get a drink.”
Bev slowly lifted her head and looked me up and down, finally stopped at my eyes and she let out a long sigh of what sounded like desperation.
“What do you want?” she asked a little begrudgingly.
“I’ll have a pint of lager and my girlfriend would like a cocktail please.”
She sighed again. “Which lager?”
I looked at the pumps and pointed. “Peroni, please.”
“Peroni’s off.”
“Oh, okay.” I looked again. “Bud, then.”
“Bud’s off as well.”
I heard Willow snort beside me and nudged her with my elbow and then smiled at Bev. “Carling?”
“That’s off too,” she said morosely as she scratched her head.
I took a deep breath and forced out another smile, this one though wasn’t nearly as wide.
“Maybe if you told me what’s on?”
Willow cleared her throat and I knew by the way her shoulders shook that she was about to burst out into laughter.
“We’ve got Peroni and Bud in bottles,” Bev replied.
Not able to hold it in any longer, Willow snorted and buried her face in the back of my arm, her whole body shook.
“I’ll have a Peroni then, please,” I ground out.
Bev sighed again and turned to look in the fridge. It was then that I noticed her black cardigan was on inside out but chose not to bring it to Willow’s attention that Bev was evidently a size eighteen and shopped at M&S, according to her label.
“I’ll have to go down to the cellar,” she grumbled and slammed the fridge door closed. “I won’t be long.”
I felt Willow peek out from behind me and watch as our friendly barmaid shuffled from behind the bar in her sensible shoes with her podgy feet spilled out over the top.
“Shit,” Willow hissed. “She’s hilarious. Why didn’t she tell you they’d only got bottles?”
“I’ve no idea, but I think I was right about you not getting your Rude Boy.”
“Oh no,” she replied and shook her head while she looked at me with wide, excited eyes. “I’m asking for it. I want to see how she copes.”
“You’re mean,” I laughed and pulled her to me to kiss her forehead. “She might just break down at the thought.”
“I could offer to give her a lesson on how to make it, I suppose.”
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her to my chest. “You never did tell me the story of how you know about them.”
“It’s not that interesting really. Polly and I were on holiday in Jamaica and it rained for three days so Tigger, the barman, showed us. By the end of the second day we were recreating scenes from Tom Cruise’s film, Cocktail. The hotel manager almost threw us out though because we’d smashed so many bottles of spirits, but Tigger covered for us and said there’d been a mini earthquake and couldn’t understand how no one else had felt it. He was brilliant and I’ve never tasted any as good as his. He made the best I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve had a mixologist in London make me one.”
“What the fuck’s a mixologist?”
“What a posh cocktail maker likes to be called.”
“I have a better name for them,” I offered.
“What?” Willow’s chin rested on my chest as she grinned up at me, as if she already knew my answer.
“Twat.”
We both started to laugh and were only alerted to Bev’s return by the noise of a bottle being slammed onto the bar.
“A bottle of Bud,” she announced.
There was indeed one bottle on the bar, only the one as well. I looked to see if she’d bought any more up with her, but it appeared that we would only get the one drink.
“What else?” she asked as her voice cracked as if I’d given her some bad news.
“A cocktail?” My response was a question because for all Willow wanted to see what
Bev was made of, I wasn’t sure I wanted to have to deal with her if she broke down.
She pushed a small menu toward me. “They’re on there.”
I passed it to Willow and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I don’t think the Rude Boy is a good idea, babe. I think she might cry.”
As Bev whimpered, Willow gasped and nodded.
“Ooh what do you recommend?” she asked Bev, brightly.
“What?” Bev screwed up her eyes and tilted her head to one side as she examined Willow.
“Which cocktail do you recommend?” Willow almost sounded like she was cajoling an errant child and it was my turn to swallow back a laugh.
Bev shrugged. “No idea, I only drink bitter.”
Unable to hold back my laughter, I started to fake a cough as I tried to disguise it.
Willow took a step forward and rested her forearms on the bar, studied the cocktail menu again. Evidently tired of the wait, Bev turned around and started to shift some bottles around. I wondered if she’d decided on a cocktail and gathered the ingredients together, but she produced a duster from her skirt pocket and started to rub it over them and the shelf. I nudged Willow who shrugged and mouthed, ‘What shall I have?’
I decided to take matters into my own hands. “Which cocktail can you make best, Bev?”
She turned slowly, cloth in hand and stared me up and down.
“What?”
“Which cocktail can you make best?” I repeated as I tried not to lose the fake smile from my face.
With another sigh from her repertoire, she threw the duster onto the bar and moved closer, leaning into Willow and me.
“Rum and coke, vodka and coke or gin and tonic,” she hissed.
Willow side-eyed me and took a step back.
“I’ll have a vodka and coke then please,” she replied, a little tentatively.
“We’re out of vodka.”
The Big Ohhh Page 24