by Alam, Donna
‘So staid and boring, Penny. Where’s your sense of adventure?’ I bite back a burgeoning smile. Sex in the kitchen seems pretty adventurous, not that I can tell her about any of it. ‘And stuff supper. We’re hitting a club.’
‘Can it be a club with beds?’ I ask. ‘I wouldn’t even mind if it’s a sex club. So long as the sheets are clean, and I have a key to lock myself in the room.’
‘You would abandon me in a sex club? And you call yourself a friend,’ she chastises, picking up her glass and smiling around the small straw.
‘You could ring Tim. He might be up for a roll around a bed with more DNA than a sperm bank.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ she asks sharply. The answer is, not what she’s thinking.
‘You’re always telling me you and Tim screw like bunnies, and that you’re adventurous and stuff.’
‘Yeah, we do have a great sex life,’ she agrees, her expression lightening. It looks like the inquisition is averted. I hope the same can be said for the later vodka-induced, tear-stained questioning. Why? Why doesn’t he want me to live with him?
I’m not the kind of woman who has the answers. If I was, maybe I’d have seen my own fiancé was about to leave me. Good riddance, I say now. But two months ago, I was crying a different tune.
And now? Now I’m having casual sex. Go figure!
‘I think your sex life is a key indicator of how strong your relationship is.’
‘Mel.’ I send her a narrow-eyed look. ‘You haven’t been thinking about you and Tim in terms of business marketing, have you? You know you can’t judge a relationship like it’s an organisation? Give it KPIs, strategic goals, and stuff.’
‘Why not? Big businesses measure performance and take initiatives to prevent issues and failures. So long as the take is quantitative rather than qualitative—’
‘You’re mad.’ I shake my head. ‘Human relationships can’t be judged like that.’
‘I disagree. And to my mind, if you’re in a long-term relationship and you’re not having sex, you’re doomed to fail.’
‘Hmm. That settles that then.’
Mel glances cautiously my way. ‘What settles what?’
‘Liam didn’t leave me because he needed a little freedom to find himself.’ I quarantine his awful statement with air-quotes. ‘According to you, he left because we weren’t having sex.’
‘What? Not at all?’
‘Occasionally.’ I find myself looking down at my wine glass.
‘How many times did you . . .’ Mel makes an “O” with one hand but before she can complete the lewd gesture, I answer.
‘Not a lot. With work and the house, sometimes it could be weeks in between.’
‘Weeks,’ she repeats, not without incredulity.
‘Sometimes months.’ I shrug then realise I’ve had more sex the past two days than I had the last three months of my engagement.
‘I think couples who’ve been married for decades have more sex than that.’
‘Yes, okay. Har har,’ I respond, thankful for the lack of light in the bar to spare my blushing.
‘In fact,’ she continues, beginning to giggle, ‘I’ll bet couples in nursing homes get it on more than you and Liam did.’
‘I’m pleased I’m keeping you amused.’
‘You always, babe. Whenever I’m having a bad day—when the new Louboutin line doesn’t arrive on time, or I can’t get the Stella McCartney must-have gym shorts in my size, I just think of you, working in your pyjamas and those terrible shoes—’
Theatre shoes!
‘—covered in birth gunk and baby poo.’
‘It’s called meconium,’ I croak, mid chuckle. ‘And it’s potentially dangerous to the babe.’
‘It’s shit, and you know it.’
‘My life is a bit shit, that I do know.’
‘It’ll get better,’ Mel says, reaching out and covering my hand with hers, making me shrug and smile up at her. ‘Starting tonight.’
‘Right, this is my round.’ Sliding open my clutch, I pull a couple of twenties out and push them in her direction. ‘Another pinot for me, I say, sliding from my stool and making my way to the ladies’ room while trying to stop myself from second-guessing how to approach this thing with Ben. Not that I don’t have a plan on how I can continue things with him because I do. And despite what I’d said earlier, I’m beginning to think Mel might have the right idea in setting realistic goals. So here are mine.
Keep it casual.
Explore—have wild monkey sex
Make it only about sex.
See #1. He’s not planning on sticking around.
But how do I approach things with Mel? I don’t want to keep it a secret from her, but I don’t know how to tell her. And while alcohol is often the cause of problems, it’s never the solution. Tonight, however, it might also be just what the doctor orders.
Chapter 12
BEN
‘What are you doing here?’ I pretend not to notice the gleam in Nell’s eye. ‘And in my seat, too?’
‘You snooze you lose.’
‘Ben, if you’re going to crash our girly night, the least you can do is have a day off from being a tit.’
‘Ever the diplomat, Mel,’ I say, moving from the barstool. It’s not like I was going to make her stand. I was just keeping up the show. Nell was pretty insistent in her plan to keep what happened between us from Melody, which suits me. I could do without her bending my ear anytime soon.
Nell hops up onto the stool I vacate, and I take my position between the pair, keeping my hand on the back of Nell’s seat, fully intending to take advantage of the position. I manage to bite back a small smile as I feel her shiver as I trail my thumb across the silk of her blouse.
‘Are you cold?’
‘Quite the opposite,’ she mutters, grasping her glass from the bar. As she brings the rim to her berry-painted lips, she lowers it again.
‘Not thirsty?’
‘I’m just wondering why my phone isn’t in my clutch.’ Her narrows in my direction as she picks it up, examining it as though I’d tampered with it.
‘I haven’t touched it,’ I say, holding out my hands as though that alone was proof.
‘Hmph.’ Nell closes her purse, popping her phone on top. ‘You’d better not have, if you know what’s good for you.’
Ah, so that’s the way we’re playing it. Like we’re kids again.
‘Why would I touch your phone? I’m not interested in your collection of cock shots.’ Next to me, my sister splutters around the straw of her drink.
‘Ben! Leave her alone. Penny doesn’t have cock shots on her phone.’
‘Doesn’t she?’ My eyes move to Nell’s dark and complicit ones. She thinks she knows what’s going through my head. Yeah, so I am going to fix that for her—what man wouldn’t? Especially when she’s giving me that look. Like she’s daring me to do it. But also, I’m thinking about furniture. I am! Sitting on the high stool, Nell’s gaze is almost level with mine. Her kitchen has a breakfast bar but no stools. I think I might need to remedy that, especially as I’d like to fuck her from this vantage point.
‘You’re more likely to find images of weird X-rays and stuff on her phone.’
‘Yeah?’
Nell nods.
‘Show him that one about the girl off her face on coke. You know, the one who impaled herself on steel fence post. Through her hoo-ha, no less.’
‘No, don’t show me that.’ Revulsion craws across my skin. I’ve seen what metal can do to flesh and bone. I don’t need any kind of rerun.
‘Feeling a bit queasy, little brother?’
‘Because I don’t want to look at something that looks like a shish kebab?’
‘It’d look more like a donner after that kind of trauma.’
‘Guys, stop.’ Nell shakes her head disparagingly. I suppose we do sound like a couple of squabbling kids. ‘You know it’s just an X-ray, Mel, not a freak show. Anyway, the patient was fine follo
wing surgery. She was very lucky. Well, apart from still being under arrest. ‘Who’s playing Mario Kart?’ she adds, looking around.
But that sound isn’t the coin collection from the classic video game.
It’s a Tinder notification.
‘Excellent!’ cries Melody, clapping her hands like an excited child before making a grab for Nell’s phone.
‘Have you installed a Mario Kart app on my phone?’ I’m not sure whether the idea amuses her or pisses her off. Either way, Nell stretches out to grab it back.
‘Nope!’ Mel swings a little on her twisty stool, avoiding Nell’s attempts. ‘And of course I didn’t install Mario,’ she sniggers. Meanwhile, I grit my teeth, knowing exactly where this is going. ‘I installed Tinder on it.’
‘Mel, what the hell?’
‘I’d have asked you first, but you’d have only said no.’
‘And that’s supposed to make it better?’ she asks incredulously.
‘No, easier. For me, at least.’
As Melody unlocks Nell’s phone, I reconsider my dick pic plan. Although, if she’s going to go snooping, it’s not like she doesn’t deserve a nasty shock. The flip side of that is payback.
‘Give her her phone back, Mel.’
‘I will. In a minute,’ she says, twisting away from me this time. ‘Look someone likes you!’
‘You make it sound as though that’s incredible—as though I’m thoroughly unlikable,’ Nell mutters.
‘Everyone like you, Nell. You’re just nice.’
‘You make it sound like an insult.’
‘I love you! You’re the best. I just think you need to think of yourself more. Live in the moment—seize life by the balls!’
‘You mean have casual sex.’ As Nell’s gaze touches mine, a rush of pink touches her cheeks.
‘No, I’ve given up on that plan,’ Melody responds, her attention still on the phone. ‘I know you haven’t got it in you.’ I manage not to crack up, though I can’t say the same for Nell.
‘Well, I haven’t got it in me now . . . ’ she murmurs, her dark gaze meeting mine over the rim of her glass. ‘But I have high hopes!’ If there was ever a phrase that made my dick perk up, it would be something along those lines.
‘What?’ Melody doesn’t wait for an answer, apparently studying a profile image a little too intently. ‘He’s cute, isn’t he?’ Though her question isn’t directed at me, I lean over her shoulder for a quick glimpse, though see nothing as she moves the phone from my view. ‘Swipe right! Yeah, baby. I’d swipe right on that all night.’
‘Swipe what?’ asks Nell. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Does your boyfriend know you’re Tinder trawling, sister mine?’
‘I’ll explain it to you later,’ Mel says, ignoring me. ‘Look.’ Stretching her arm out across me, she gives Nell a quick look at the profile in question. ‘He’s fit, isn’t he?’
‘I suppose,’ she mumbles, her gaze flicking to mine so quickly I might have mistaken the motion.
‘Don’t ask Ben if he’s fit,’ Melody says with a snort. So I didn’t imagine it. ‘Although I think we can assume Ben has no interest in men. Plenty in women, though.’
‘You use Tinder, too?’ Sweetheart, don’t look at me with those Bambi eyes.
‘He uninstalls the app when he’s on tour or on manoeuvres and stuff, but yeah. You do, don’t you?’
‘Not this time around.’ I take a swig from my beer bottle, my fingers holding the neck so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.
‘Not yet, you mean.’
‘Piss off, Mel. I’m not that bad.’
‘No judgment here,’ she retorts. ‘Didn’t I just sign my bestie up for the app? Though she won’t be shagging everyone,’ she adds in an undertone.
She won’t be shagging anyone but me if I’ve got anything to do with it. Christ on a bike, that’s not right. While I have a fuck-tonne to say about Melody’s assumption, not to mention the skeevy way she’s signed Nell up for Tinder, the only things running through my head right now is shit like don’t do it and please let’s leave.
‘So I’m just a fucking man whore, I suppose,’ I grate out. Unsurprisingly, I find I can’t raise my eyes to meet Nell’s gaze.
‘I wouldn’t say that. You’re just . . . time poor.’ Somehow, that does not make me feel better. ‘Oh, look! Hottie number one, Matt, sent you a message.’ Nell sort of groans as I just about resist putting my hands around my sister’s interfering throat. ‘Ready?’ she asks, not waiting for an answer. ‘Hi, cutie—’
‘Wait.’ I put my half empty beer bottle on the bar. ‘Did he type the letters Q T, or did he actually spell it out?’
‘What does it matter?’ Mel asks, turning the phone so I can’t see. ‘Everyone abbreviates shit.’
‘Because if he can’t be arsed to take the time to write in real words and full sentences, then he’s not worth a moment of our girl’s time.’
‘Our girl?’ Mel repeats, her expression amused. ‘Let’s get this straight. You’re just the lodger. I’m the best friend.’
‘Then act like one,’ I demand.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ She huffs, waving the phone in my face. ‘C-U-T-I-E,’ she spells out. ‘Satisfied?’ Not even a little bit.
‘Wait.’ I grab her wrist, flattening her hand to make the screen face me. ‘Hi, cutie,’ I begin, reading from the screen. ‘No offence, but my girlfriend and I—’
‘Ben, stop it. Get off me!’
‘—my girlfriend and I,’ I repeat with a shit eating grin, ‘saw your profile and wondered if you were up to joining us for a three-way. So much for you plan,’ I taunt. ‘I’m not sure that’s the beginning of a beautiful relationship.’ Turning my attention to Nell, I ask, ‘Unless you’re into girls.’ I can’t say I’m disappointed as she shakes her head. ‘Hang on, what have you used for her profile pic?’ I almost swallow my fucking tongue. ‘This isn’t a look I’ve seen before.’ Pulling the phone from Mel’s hand, I study the picture intently. ‘Are those bunny ears?’ My eyes meet Nell’s over the top of the phone.
‘It was for charity,’ she answers.
‘Does the outfit come with a tail?’ This time, she only answers with a quirk of her brow. But that’s okay because I’ll find out later. When we’re fucking tonight.
Chapter 13
PENNY
For the remainder of the night, it seems like my phone doesn’t stop collecting Mario Kart coins. Or Tinder profile likes. And with each tweety-bing, Ben seems more pissed. I’m surprised he stayed with us, especially as he and Mel have done nothing but squabble. But it’s kind of nice to be on the other side of the action for once. So he’s stayed, and I, for one, am glad of it.
‘Reverse harem is the new thing.’ A tipsy Melody bumps her shoulder against Ben’s. He’s built so solidly, though, it barely registers. We’ve moved on to a club, and I have to say, it must be student night because none of the people on the dance floor seem to be over the age of twenty. Since when was it acceptable to get into a club in ripped jeans? And that’s just the men.
‘Reverse what?’ In our booth facing the dance floor, though not so close that we can’t hear ourselves think, Ben turns his attention to Melody sitting beside him. When we first arrived and Mel had slipped into the booth after Ben, I’ll admit to feeling a pang of disappointment. The feeling has magnified since, mainly because I’m on my fourth glass of pinot, and dammit, I’m sitting across from him. Staring at him while trying not to look as though I am. It’s not that I imagined if I were sitting next to him, he’d have ravished me in full view of his sister, but I was banking on a little closeness coupled with a little under the table thigh and junk rub . . .
‘Reverse harem,’ Mel replies a little louder, indicating my phone as it chirps again. ‘One woman and allll the men vying to please her.’ I’m not quite sure what the correlation is between my Tinder profile and reverse harem kink. The link must be wrapped somewhere in the tipsy part of Melody’s brain.
‘One women and multiple dicks? That sounds like some porn I’ve seen.’
‘Ew! Reverse harem isn’t like that. It’s romantic.’
‘Really?’ Ben’s expression is a mixture of repulsion and interest. ‘What says romance to you about a gang-bang?’
‘It’s not like that,’ she repeats. ‘It’s nice. It’s about the woman, the relationship, not which bit fits where in bed.’
‘Nope. That doesn’t compute,’ her brother says.
‘It’s about those four or five men all wanting to please one woman. Loving her. Putting her on a pedestal,’ she says, holding up her hands as though expecting an angel to fall through the ceiling of the bar. ‘Looking after her and treating her like she’s a queen.’
‘It doesn’t sound like any relationship I’d like to be in. One-fifth of a woman. What happens if she’s tiny like Penny?’ I physically jolt at the use of my name. And Penny, not Nell. All for appearance sakes. Good call, Ben. From across the table, a flare of light from the dance floor flashes across his face, making him look quite wicked. ‘I don’t think one-fifth of you would satisfy me,’ his low rumbling tone repeats. ‘I’d need all of you.’
I couldn’t look away if I wanted, which I don’t, as a sensory memory ripples across my skin
‘As if,’ Mel scoffs, oblivious to our exchange. ‘You don’t do relationships, Ben. Period.’ His expression clouds as he begins to study the label on his beer bottle quite intently, almost as though he anticipates what comes next. ‘Except that one girl. What was her name again? Oh, what was it?’ she says, tapping her red nails on the countertop. ‘Samantha, wasn’t it? You went out with her for quite a bit. What happened to her?’
‘Nothing happened. We just weren’t serious.’
‘You might not have been, Mr Oblivious, but she was all in.’
‘You’re wrong,’ he answers evenly, his gaze hitting mine head-on. ‘It was just a bit of fun.’
I’m not jealous, exactly. Maybe just a tiny bit? I think I’m more curious than anything because I sense a story behind this. A piece of the Ben puzzle to fill in.