by Sophie Hart
‘I don’t know if I could ever talk to a stranger about something so personal,’ Jamie admitted. ‘Don’t you get embarrassed?’
‘Not really,’ Annie shrugged. ‘I’m pretty much unshockable these days. I’ve had men break down and confess to their wives that what they really want to do is dress up in women’s underwear. I’ve had women admit that their husbands aren’t the father of their children, and men confess to pornography obsessions,’ she continued, as Jamie’s eyes boggled.
Annie took a mouthful of pan de ajo, and they carried on chatting, the conversation flowing easily. Annie was relieved – and surprised – that Jamie hadn’t made any stupid comments about her work. Most men couldn’t resist asking something sleazy or inappropriate, but Jamie seemed genuinely interested and supportive.
‘How come you chose that profession?’ Jamie asked curiously. ‘It’s a pretty unusual career.’
Annie sat back thoughtfully, taking a sip of her wine. ‘Various reasons, I suppose. I studied psychology because it interested me, then took my degree in it, and for my master’s I found I was more interested in relationships and the sexual side of them – how couples interacted with each other, how they overcame problems, and just how common sexual issues in marriages really were. On a lighter note,’ she grinned, noticing Jamie’s serious expression, ‘I think my love of romantic movies made me believe that everyone has their own happy ending out there. I guess I just wanted to help people find theirs and – shit!’ Annie swore, clapping a hand over her mouth.
‘What is it?’ Jamie asked, following her gaze towards the door where a couple had just entered the restaurant and were being greeted by a waiter.
The man was unfamiliar to Jamie, but Annie recognised him immediately.
It was Tom.
‘I went on a date with that guy a couple of months ago,’ she explained in hushed tones, wincing as she remembered what a disastrous night it had been. ‘He was an idiot. Let’s just say it didn’t go well.’
Annie looked down at the table, letting her bobbed hair fall across her face in the hope that Tom wouldn’t notice her. But as the waiter led him past their table, Tom stopped in surprise.
‘Well, well, well,’ he sneered. ‘Look who it is.’
‘Hi Tom,’ Annie grimaced, trying to pretend that she’d only just noticed him.
‘Is this your latest date?’ Tom asked coldly, looking Jamie up and down.
‘Not exactly…’ Annie began, but Tom cut her off.
‘I’d watch out if I were you, mate. She’s mental this one.’
‘Now hang on a minute,’ Jamie said, leaping to his feet as Annie shook her head in despair. ‘Don’t you dare speak about Annie like that.’
‘It’s just a friendly warning,’ Tom continued, sounding anything but friendly. ‘You’ll end up wearing that wine instead of drinking it.’
Jamie frowned, confused, and Annie couldn’t resist saying, ‘No, Tom, you’re the only person I’ve ever thrown a drink over.’
‘See? She’s a nutcase!’
‘Annie, would you like to leave? I’ll ask for the bill,’ Jamie said chivalrously, taking out his wallet and signalling to the waiter.
‘Yeah, why don’t you piss off out of here?’ Tom suggested.
Quick as a flash, Jamie turned on him, pressing his face up close to Tom’s. ‘If you ever speak to Annie like that again, you’ll have more to deal with than having a drink thrown over you. Okay?’
A flicker of fear crossed Tom’s face; he might have been muscular, but Jamie was a head taller than him, and Annie suspected that Tom was a coward at heart.
‘Yeah, whatever,’ he sneered, but he took a step backwards towards the woman he’d arrived with. ‘Come on, Nicki. Let’s go sit down.’
Annie exhaled slowly, too shaken up to protest as Jamie insisted on covering the bill. As they stepped out into the chilly evening air, Jamie looked at her thoughtfully and asked, ‘Did you really throw a glass of wine over him?’
‘Yeah,’ Annie admitted guiltily. ‘But he totally deserved it. He’s a dickhead.’
‘I can see that,’ Jamie smiled.
They walked along in silence for a few moments, Annie pulling her jacket more tightly around her. ‘Thanks for defending my honour back there,’ she said eventually. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘Any time,’ Jamie replied. He grinned at her, and Annie found herself grinning back, a warm glow of contentment spreading through her body.
18
Chapter Eighteen
‘I’m as pure as the driven slush’ – Tallulah Bankhead
Simon was sitting at the water’s edge, dressed in tracksuit bottoms, a hoody and painter’s overalls. It was a beautiful spring day – chilly, but with a dazzling blue sky so bright that Simon needed to wear sunglasses – and he was painting one of the company narrowboats, the Belle of the Broads. Now that the weather was warming up, it was a race to get all the boats prepared for the forthcoming season. They were almost fully booked over Easter, and he needed to have everything in pristine condition by then.
Simon hadn’t planned to work for the family business. He’d tried his hand at various jobs after he left college, including admin work in a hospital and telesales for a bank, but the corporate environment didn’t suit him at all. Simon loved to be outdoors, working with his hands, and with no set routine every day. Today, for example, he was by the canal, only the occasional low of a cow, or the gentle hum of machinery on a nearby farm to break the peace and quiet.
After he’d finished painting, he’d need to replant the flower tubs then check the interior of the boat, ensuring nothing was broken or missing, before making his final inspection of the engine and the machinery. But there was still plenty of time for all of that over the coming days and weeks, and Simon worked steadily, ensuring that he did a thorough, professional job.
He would just get to the end of this bit, and then he’d break for lunch, Simon decided. He dipped his brush into the red paint he was using, and carefully traced a line along the lower edge of the boat, making sure to keep it neat. His forehead was narrowed in concentration, sweat beading on his brow, when he heard his phone beep from deep inside his overalls. Not wanting to stop until he’d finished the section he was on, he carried on painting for another few minutes, before pulling out his phone and seeing that he had a message from Zoe:
Hey handsome, what are you up to? xxx
Simon set his brush down in the paint tray, and wiped his hands on the rag he kept nearby, before replying:
Not much. Painting the Belle. What about you? xxx
He barely had time to pick up his tools before his phone beeped again:
Thinking about you and what I want you to do to me
Simon almost dropped his paintbrush. Instinctively, he cradled his phone closer to hide the screen, even though the nearest living creature was probably the cow two fields away. He realised he was breathing a little faster, his body tense with anticipation. Did Zoe mean what he thought she did? Had he misread the text? Without giving himself too much time to think about it, Simon quickly tapped out a reply.
* * *
Zoe was at work in the vet’s, pulling on her coat as she prepared to go on her lunch break. Her mobile was clutched in her hand, and she felt deliciously naughty, wondering what she’d started. At their last therapy session, Annie had taken Zoe aside and given her a secret mission, challenging her to send a series of sexy messages to Simon at some point over the forthcoming week. It was all to do with building anticipation, Annie had explained, and even functioned as a form of foreplay, ensuring that your other half was raring to go when you next saw them.
Zoe had taken Annie up on the challenge but, while she was game for most things, she felt a little uncertain about this. How explicit did they have to get? What if Simon thought it was all a big joke, or didn’t understand what she was trying to do?
The phone in Zoe’s hand vibrated, and she eagerly read the text:
Oh yeah? Tell
me all about it :)
Zoe broke into a triumphant smile. Simon appeared to have got the message, and he understood exactly what she was doing! Now came the difficult part – what was she going to send back? Zoe wanted something fun and teasing, not graphic and crude.
‘I’ll see you in an hour,’ she called out to Jackie, who worked on reception, as she stopped to stroke a beagle with a bandaged paw.
‘Bye, Zoe. Have fun.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Zoe replied with a wicked grin, wondering what Jackie would say if she knew exactly how much fun Zoe was intending to have.
The door clanged as she walked out, and Zoe looped her scarf around her neck as she walked briskly along Princes Street towards the cathedral. When the weather was fine, she loved to sit in the grounds and eat her lunch.
Zoe marched through the gate, barely stopping to admire the splendour of the magnificent building soaring above her, and quickly found an empty bench, where she sat down and tapped out a reply:
Remember that hotel on our anniversary? I loved what you did to me that night…
Then she pulled her lunch box out of her bag, took out an egg mayonnaise sandwich, and waited for the reply.
* * *
Simon had forgotten all about work. His paintbrush lay abandoned, the bristles stiffening in the sunshine, as he stared at his phone, waiting for Zoe’s next message to come through.
As soon as his phone lit up, he immediately pressed the ‘read’ button, his eyes devouring the words on the screen. Then he broke into a wide grin.
Simon remembered all too well the night that Zoe was referring to. It had been their first anniversary, and he’d taken her to Hambledon Hall, a beautiful country house hotel up near Fakenham. After spending the afternoon in the spa, getting hot and steamy in the Jacuzzi, they’d ordered a bottle of Prosecco from room service and proceeded to do some very naughty things indeed. Simon had taken a mouthful of the sparkling liquid as he disappeared between Zoe’s thighs, and the sensation of the bubbles against her most intimate parts had left her panting for more.
I can do it again whenever you want – just say the magic word. I’ve got the Prosecco on ice ;)
When the message was sent, Simon lay back on the grass, looking up at the clouds scudding across the sky. He could feel himself getting horny, that telltale stirring in his trousers. This celibacy thing was far harder than he’d expected – no pun intended. More than once, he’d thought of suggesting to Zoe that they call it all off, but she was adamant that they would stand by their decision. Simon wasn’t sure he’d last until the wedding night. And if he did… Well, if he was being honest, Simon was secretly terrified that it wouldn’t be the amazing experience Zoe was hoping for. There was a worrying possibility that it could all be over within minutes. Seconds even.
And if Zoe was going to send him suggestive texts like this, it was going to make things even harder – literally.
Simon groaned out loud at the thought, throwing one hand over his face to shield it from the sun, as he waited for Zoe’s response.
* * *
Zoe was eating her lunch, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face, and waiting for Simon’s text. She looked out across the church yard, watching people pass through – tourists staring up at the beautiful cathedral; young mothers with children in pushchairs using it as a convenient cut through; other workers, like herself, grabbing five minutes of relaxation on their lunch break.
Zoe noticed that someone was making their way towards the bench where she was sitting. The figure was dressed all in black and, as they drew closer, Zoe realised that it was an elderly nun. Her hair was tucked up beneath her habit, and she wore a pair of oversized spectacles, with a gold cross around her neck. She smiled at Zoe as she sat down beside her and Zoe smiled back, gathering up her lunch box and moving along the seat to give the woman some space.
Just then, Zoe’s phone beeped, and she snatched it up, grinning as she read Simon’s reply. She certainly wouldn’t mind a replay of that night at Hambledon Hall. Zoe sat thoughtfully for a moment, chewing on her sandwich as she composed a reply. Sexting Simon was a lot of fun, but so far they were both playing it safe. She needed to spice things up a little, inject some filthiness into the conversation.
‘Excuse me?’
Zoe looked round, realising that the nun was speaking to her. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, but do you have the time?’
Zoe glanced down at her phone. ‘It’s just gone half past one.’
‘Half past one?’ the woman repeated slowly. ‘Thank you. I’m afraid my watch has stopped working,’ she told Zoe, holding up her arm to show her the ancient-looking watch on her wrist. ‘I’ll have to get a new battery, I suppose.’
‘I think there’s a shop on Wensum Street that fits replacements,’ Zoe advised her helpfully, before going back to her text. Struck with a sudden burst of inspiration, she quickly typed:
I’ve been having this fantasy where you
‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’
Zoe’s head shot up, colour infusing her cheeks, as she realised that the nun was chatting to her once again.
‘Yes. Yes, it’s lovely,’ she agreed.
‘I think this is my favourite time of year,’ the woman said contemplatively. ‘Spring, when everything’s renewing itself. It makes me realise I’ve survived another winter,’ she chuckled.
Zoe wasn’t sure how to reply. She smiled heartily, and said once again, ‘It really is lovely.’ Then she put her head back down to read what she’d written so far, carefully angling her phone away from the nun.
Hmm, Zoe wondered. Which fantasy should she text to Simon? The bondage-themed one? Or the one involving a threesome…?
‘Can you believe this is over nine hundred years old?’ The nun’s voice broke into Zoe’s thoughts. She was staring in disbelief at the mighty cathedral in front of them. ‘It makes me feel positively young!’
Zoe smiled politely, feeling increasingly awkward. The nun was a very sweet old woman, who clearly just wanted to chat, but it was extremely difficult to think raunchy thoughts when sitting beside a servant of the Lord. Taking decisive action, Zoe clicked the lid on her lunch box and pushed it back into her bag.
‘Have a lovely day,’ she said brightly to the nun, swinging her handbag onto her shoulder as she stood up. ‘I need to get back to work now.’
‘Right you are. Have a nice day,’ the woman replied contentedly, showing no signs of moving.
Zoe walked away, along the path that led out of the cathedral grounds. Quickly, she tapped out the message that came to her so easily now:
I’ve been having this fantasy where you tie me up and spank me hard xxx
She smiled to herself in satisfaction, pressing send as she passed through the main gate.
* * *
Simon was still lying on the grass, daydreaming about his fiancée. He really was madly in love with her, he thought happily. She was absolutely gorgeous, and with a naughty side that meant she was always up for trying new things. Most of all, Simon loved how sexy she made him feel. Zoe craved and desired him, just as much as he wanted her, and that was the biggest turn-on of all.
But, if the truth be told, Simon couldn’t help but feel a little insecure at times. His previous girlfriend – his childhood sweetheart, in fact – had cheated on him and broken his heart not long before he met Zoe. And whilst he’d had very little in the way of past relationships, he knew that Zoe was far more sexually experienced than him. Simon found himself wondering whether she’d done this with other people, sexting previous boyfriends, and realised that he hated the idea. What if he didn’t live up to the other men she’d slept with? What if Zoe thought his replies were dull, or that he wasn’t as exciting in bed as her former lovers?
Simon shuddered, hating the idea of Zoe having sex with someone else. And he really hated the idea of Zoe having sex with someone who was better than him. It was every man’s secret fear, and Simon was no
different, worrying that—
Zoe’s text came through, and Simon immediately forgot all of his concerns, blown away by what she’d written. Wow! Did Zoe really fantasise about being tied up and spanked?
Reading over the message again, the link from Simon’s brain to his crotch was instantaneous. He glanced around guiltily, wondering if anyone could see his growing excitement. He was hugely aroused, and it would be patently obvious to anyone who happened to be nearby. Fortunately, Simon was alone, and he let out a long, shaky breath, trying to slow his racing pulse. By now he’d forgotten all about work; there was no way he could concentrate on anything apart from his conversation with Zoe. Quickly, he hit reply:
Sounds amazing. I’ll do whatever you want. Ready right now with my handcuffs :) :)
Simon immediately pressed send, but the message icon circled before flashing up the ‘failed’ symbol.
‘Bollocks,’ Simon swore out loud. He tried once again, but it timed out after a couple of minutes, and Simon let out a frustrated groan. One of the hazards of working out in the countryside was that mobile reception could be very unreliable. He waved his phone aimlessly above his head, hoping to pick up something, but nothing happened. Zoe was going to think he was ignoring her, Simon realised. Or she’d worry that she’d gone too far and freaked him out.Simon jumped to his feet, jogging along the riverbank and waving his phone in the air, but the screen still showed SOS Emergency Calls Only.
This is an emergency! Simon thought in frustration.
He ran back towards the house, doing a strange dance which involved skipping from side to side and waving his arms, desperately trying to find reception.
‘Is everything all right, Simon?’
Simon span around in alarm to find his dad, Brian, watching him curiously. Simon had been so distracted, he hadn’t even noticed him, and he felt his cheeks grow crimson.