by E. S. Carter
“How about we change the topic of conversation away from your peanuts,” she gives a pointed look at both men, then looks at me expectantly, “and hear more about how you two met.”
“It’s a penis Em.” It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “You can say the word you know, it doesn’t bite… much.”
She waves him off with a dismissive move of her hand and looks back towards me eagerly.
I take a deep breath and start to ramble, “Harry was drooling over Clarabelle, then he helped me with my eggs, so I figured I’d take him for a ride to say thanks.” I shrug, trying to dismiss the rest of what happened that day.
“First off, Clarabelle? Secondly, eggs? If that description were anymore vague, you could turn it into a Facebook status update.” Jake jokes but motions with his hands to keep going.
Harry takes over. “The cliff notes version is: Lilah has a super hot Mustang that for some reason she calls Clarabelle. She was exiting said car in a full on bunny costume and struggling with her Easter eggs. As any gentleman would, I offered to help. She proceeded to tell me all her rather debased proclivities featuring fancy dress, then took me for the ride of my life which ended in a sweet country pub. The end.”
I can’t help but laugh along with Jake and Emma at his rushed description.
“I think you’re missing something, H,” Emma says around her laughter. “What about the scary bikers I’ve heard about?”
Harry glares at me, apparently not wanting to tell his friends how my choice of date venue almost made him wet himself. I smile sweetly back,
“They weren’t scary bikers, more like, sweet guys with beards and the muscles of wrestlers, who happen to like bikes. Nothing scary at all.” He attempts to cover up what actually happened, but I decide it’s time to spill the beans.
“He went white, lost his ability to speak and made me take him home after he downed his drink.”
I can’t help myself and immediately slap my hand over my mouth to hide my grin.
Emma and Jake laugh loudly; I think I even see tears in Jake’s eyes when he slaps Harry on the back and chuckles, “I think this story might just beat Pussy Girl.” Harry gives him the stink eye, and I can’t help but ask, “Pussy girl?”
Then Emma fills me in on poor Harry’s last date a few months ago and how he only just escaped with his manhood intact when her pet cat took a fancy to his package. By the end of the story, it’s me who has tears in my eyes.
“Mr Puss Puss. Oh, my days. You really haven’t had have much luck lately. I’m surprised I got a second chance.”
“It’s a payback date.” He replies sternly, but I can see a smile in his eyes.
Mission complete.
I made the cute guy with the sad eyes smile. Even if he didn’t want to.
Spending time with Jake, Emma and Lilah was the most fun I’ve had in… forever.
Lilah fits into the group like she’s always been part of it, and, thinking back, I could never see Bella, my ex, fitting in like this. She couldn’t help but make snide and catty comments and then try and veil them with a smile.
Lilah is her complete opposite, and it’s refreshing.
I can tell Jake and Emma like her too and knowing this only makes my attraction to her seem even more real. If my friends approve, it validates how I can like this girl so quickly, without me over-thinking everything.
I like her. A Lot.
I wonder if she likes me too or if this is all just a bit of fun.
Not that it isn’t fun. It is.
Oh bloody hell, I sound like a girl.
I’ve lost my nuts and grown a vagina.
“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Your friends are really cool.”
Lilah’s words interrupt the silence as I drive her back home.
I clear my throat discreetly, now’s my chance to ask her for a proper date, not a payback one.
“I’d like to do you again.”
“Excuse me?”
Fuck.
“It. I’d like to do it again, with you. A date, a proper one, not a payback one.”
I pull up just outside her building as I ask. Turning off the engine, I swivel to look at her, hoping like hell that she doesn’t blow me off. I like this girl, she makes me feel like me, not the ghost of me that I’ve been for over a year.
Her smile is wide and genuine when she turns to look at me, “I’d like that, Harry. I’d like that a lot if I’m honest.”
I can’t stop my eyes from looking at her lips. I wonder what they taste like?
When I look back at her face, she’s watching me watching her, and her smile has gone from playful to flirty.
I’m going to kiss her. No, I’m going to kiss the shit out of her and leave her thinking about me until I see her again.
I lean towards her just as she leans a little towards me, both of us flicking our eyes from each other’s to our lips and back again. My heart picks up pace in my chest. I feel nervous, excited and horny. If the way my dick is twitching in agreement, I’m feeling hornier than I have for a bloody long time.
Our lips are a millimetre away from touching, our breaths intermingling. Her eyes close on an exhale, and I know the taste of her is going to blow my mind.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Lilah flies backwards at the sound of a fist hitting the shit out of my window and as I flinch at the sound, I hit my head on the sun visor and let out a curse.
“Motherfucker!”
Rubbing my head, I spin towards the window to see the angry face of a guy I’ve never laid eyes on before.
“Oh, for fucks sake.” Lilah groans from beside me.
I turn away from the bloke who is about two seconds away from facing my wrath and look back at her.
“You know this idiot?”
“It’s Wayne.”
“Wayne?”
“My husband.”
My face must say what my mouth cannot and she quickly adds, “My soon to be ex-husband, when the twazzock finally agrees to sign the divorce papers.”
He begins to bang on the window once more, and I’m ready to rip this bloke a new one.
“Is he harassing you?”
“Sometimes.” She can see the anger take over my features and rushes to add, “Nothing I can’t handle, though. Please don’t let him bait you. He’s a weasel, and he thrives off getting a reaction. Just ignore him, please?”
I grit my teeth, the tightness in my jaw capable of snapping a few molars, especially when the prick begins to pound his fist on the glass once more, adding, “Delilah, get out of the car. Now.”
I stiffen and swing around to open the door, Lilah’s hand lands on my arm and halts me just as I make eye contact with the bloke who is about to get his face rearranged.
“Harry, please don’t. You’re giving him the reaction he wants.” I can’t miss the plea in her voice and I still, debating on whether to listen to her or get out of the car and teach this guy some manners.
The foreign feelings of anger pulse through my veins. I’m generally so laid back that I’ve been accused of being permanently horizontal but I hate the thought of this being a common occurrence for Lilah.
“Just let me move him on. I swear I won’t lay a finger on him.”
My back is still turned away from her, my eyes on the man who has just had the cheek to beckon me out of the car.
Her hand moves from my arm to my shoulder, where she squeezes it lightly.
“Please, trust me. He wants you to react, and as soon as you do, he’ll scream bloody murder and have the police arresting you as soon as you breathe on him. He’s not worth it, don’t play into his hands. He’s my problem, not yours.”
Seconds pass, and I finally nod in agreement, still out staring Wayne the weasel who smirks at me as if to say ‘Didn’t think you had the balls’.
I’ve never wanted to smack someone before. Not like the urge I have right now. How the hell did someone like that get a knockout like her to marry him?
&nb
sp; “Nic, are you home?”
Lilah’s voice comes from behind me, and I should probably check and see if she is okay, but I can’t stop staring at the gloating twat outside my door.
“Meet me outside, please. Wayne is here and causing trouble; I don’t want Harry getting drawn into this shit.”
I hear her sister shout out a few swear words and then Lilah replies, “Love you big time,” then hangs up the phone.
Minutes later her twin emerges from the building with a security guard in tow.
She squares up to Wayne, who is still staring at me and pushes his shoulder to get his attention. I watch as she verbally rails on him and the security guy steps in and, taking Wayne by the shoulder in one meaty hand, steers him away from the building while talking directly into his ear, but the guy still refuses to break eye contact with me.
When the security guy begins to speak into his walkie-talkie, the wanker raises his hands in surrender and backs away from him but not before he points towards the car lamely trying to threaten “I’ll be back.”
What is he, the fucking Terminator?
Every cell I have that is filled with testosterone mocks me for letting a woman and a security bloke stand up for my girl.
Yes. She’s in my car; that makes her my fucking girl. She just doesn’t know it yet. I may have sat back this time, but I won’t next time. The guy is obviously a loon, and he needs a warning.
“Thanks for not reacting and I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
My eyes are still on Wayne’s distant form as I wait to make sure he actually leaves.
The sound of the door opening breaks my focus, and I spin back in my seat. This time, I take her hand in mine and stop her from getting out of the car.
“Rain check on the kiss?” she smiles over at me trying to clear the still present anger from the car. God, she’s beautiful. How could anyone fuck up enough to lose her?
I don’t answer with words; instead, I quickly lean forward, wrap my hand around the back of her neck and slowly drag her towards my waiting lips.
I’m not going to allow that little prick to steal my kiss. I’ve waited long enough to taste her.
When our mouths connect, it’s soft, exploratory and hesitant. That is until her tongue sneaks out and just grazes my lower lip. That fleeting touch sends pure lust through my blood and fully wakes up my Davidson, instantly morphing the kiss into something more; something hotter, deeper and more consuming. When her mouth opens to mine, I take control and taste her. My tongue caresses hers, eager to memorise her and consume her light whimpers. With a final light nip to her bottom lip, I break the kiss, keeping my hand at the nape of her neck and my eyes focussed on hers as they flutter open slowly.
“I couldn’t wait for a rain check. I hope that’s okay?”
She blinks, a smile pulling at her mouth, “More than okay. I was worried a real date was off the cards after you experienced some of the crazy that surrounds me.”
“I like crazy. It’s my favourite kind of girl.”
Her eyebrow quirks up, “Am I one of many crazy girls?”
I stare into her chocolate brown eyes and wonder if there ever were any girls before her.
“You’re the only crazy girl.”
“I like that.” She whispers against my lips, then pulls away and awkwardly gets out of the car. Stumbling slightly when her leg catches the door frame again.
When she’s steady on her feet, she pops her head in to look at me.
“It’s my turn for the next date. I’ll text you.”
Then she slams the car door, walks around the front of the car and onto the pavement where her twin is waiting for her with a shit-eating smile on her face.
Lilah lifts her hand up and gives me a small wave as her sister wraps her arm around her shoulders and begins to guide her to the front door of their building.
Wait. Did she say she was arranging the next date?
Shit.
I press the button for the window, and it winds down pathetically slow. She’s almost at the doors when I yell out, “I’m not visiting GOA with you again. You hear me!”
They both turn; her sister looking at me curiously while Lilah shakes her head with a laugh and asks “GOA?”
“Gays of Anarchy. Been there, done that, got the cut and it doesn’t fit.”
She chuckles again, “Okay, deal. No GOA. I’ll just have to surprise you.”
Then she winks and turns away from me once more and I watch until I can no longer see her through the glass doors.
This girl has got me inside out and upside down.
I wanted to punch out her ex, and I never get violent.
I wanted to take our kiss upstairs and turn it into a kiss with benefits, and my Davidson hasn’t got this excited since his close friends were removed during my cancer surgery.
Sure, I’ve been out on dates before Lilah, twelve to be precise. Some included fooling around, but not once did my Davidson ever get involved. It was like having a useless limb that your head was trying to coax into doing the tango when it didn’t want to do so much as a two-step.
Until her.
Me and my Davidson wanted to tango all night long with her.
I really should get out more; watching Strictly Come Dancing with my folks on a Saturday night has got me using dance terms as a euphemism for sex.
I look down at my Davidson and shake my head.
“We will fuck again, my son. No tango shite for us.”
Yes. That feels more manly.
I pull away from the curb, no further thoughts of glitter balls, stacked heels and spray tans in my head. Instead, it’s filled with glistening bare skin, chocolate eyes and little whimpers that turn into loud moans.
Yes. This is how a manly, heterosexual bloke should envision sex with the first woman he’s fancied in ages.
I do have balls.
I have great big balls.
I want to show Lilah my balls.
Job done.
The hits just keep coming.
After Wayne had made a scene when Harry dropped me off the other day, I awoke the next morning to a call from my doctor.
The tests show the presence of neuromas, and this is why I’ve been having increased pain in my stump. Surgery has already been scheduled for next week, and while I’m recovering, I’ll also be fitted with a new prosthetic, meaning I’ll be out of commission for a few weeks while I get back on my feet, or in my case, foot.
That leaves only this week to organise a proper first date with Harry.
Nicola thinks I’m being silly by not telling him what’s going on with me, but she’s never had someone look at her like she’s less; like she’s broken.
The feeling of being whole in his eyes is a heady one and something I want to hold onto for a little while longer. So I told him a little white lie.
I told him that I’m going away for a fortnight on a last minute break, said I needed to relax and recuperate.
It’s partly truthful. I am going away and I will be resting and recuperating. I just failed to mention the surgery or the fact that he’s going on a date with a girl who has a fake leg.
Like I said. The lie is white. Well… maybe a little yellow.
“Hey, Nic. What do you think about a trip to the city farm?” I call out over the loud music she has playing.
Nic likes her music loud and guitar heavy. It’s lucky we like the same things. Imagine having a twin who listened to Bieber or One Direction.
Yeah, it doesn’t bear thinking about.
“I hate the smell,” she calls back from the kitchen. “I get to smell enough shit and puke in work without adding animal stink into the mix.”
“Not for you, as a date for Harry. I promised him a proper date, and I don’t want to be clichéd by taking him to see a movie or somewhere for a meal. I thought mucking out and feeding the animals might be fun.”
“Fun for who?” She exits the kitchen with a weird protein shake for her and a coffee for me.
“Me? Him? Both of us?” I look at her awaiting her approval.
“It’s a bit…”
“Lame? Yeah, I figured as much.” I reload Google on my IPad and begin typing ‘First Date Ideas’ into the search bar.
Having never dated anyone, except for Wayne and he doesn’t count, I don’t really know what couples do. The first website I hit brings up things like ‘Go for a walk’, well that’s out for me. ‘Go for a picnic’, lame. ‘Go boating’, we live in a city without a lake. ‘Go for a run together’, again, what? Maybe I should have put ‘First Date Ideas for Amputees’. The next few suggestions include ‘Volunteer at a soup kitchen’, ‘Take a yoga class’ and ‘Visit a psychic’.
Yeah, the city farm is looking like a good bet right now.
I huff out an annoyed breath and grumble, “Why isn’t this easy?”
Nic chugs back the last of her shake then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and gives me a look. A look that says ‘Get a grip’.
“Yeah, yeah. Like I said, lame, but it could be fun.”
She sets her empty bottle on the coffee table, and I reach over to pick up my coffee mug, blowing the steam off the top before taking a sip. She makes the best coffee.
“He’ll be happy just to be with your gorgeous self. I vote the farm. It’s cute, you already know he likes bunnies,” she winks at me, “plus if it doesn’t go well, you can always leave him there milking the cows. Men love udders.”
I snort, “How the hell do you know that men love udders?”
“They’re tits aren’t they? Men love tits. It’s basic human anatomy and blokes can’t get enough of them.”
“That’s kind of gross, Nic. I don’t want to think about the bloke I’m out on a date with getting his jollies by squeezing some udders. Cheers for that.”
She shrugs, jumps up off the sofa and heads towards her room.
“I’m grabbing a shower before my next shift. Just book the farm and text him the details. He’ll be udderly over-the-moon, just to be with you.”
“Ha-bloody-ha. Go shower, you stink.”
She gives me the finger then disappears into her bedroom.
The farm it is then.
I book our tickets online and then text Harry the details.