Some Girls Do

by Murphy, Clodagh

  ‘Who’s Jacqueline?’

  ‘The woman who adopted us.’

  ‘So … your mother?’

  The stroking finger stilled and he was silent for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually, and there was a hard edge to his voice. ‘I suppose you could call her that.’

  She felt a chill at his tone. She was curious about what would make him talk so coldly about his adoptive mother. It didn’t seem like him – not that she knew him very well – but there was such warmth and affection in his voice when he spoke of his sister that it was obvious he adored her. And she knew herself how sweet he could be. She wondered what his mother could have done to alienate him, but as it was clearly a touchy subject, so she decided to leave it alone.

  ‘My mother wrote a book about it,’ he said, linking his hands behind his head. ‘Why don’t you read it if you want all the gory details?’

  Claire felt rebuked. She was sorry she’d said anything. A minute ago she’d felt so close to him, and now he was angry and aloof. ‘Sorry,’ she said, lifting her head and lying back against the pillows so she wasn’t touching him. ‘I don’t mean to be nosy. It just seems weird to be … like this and not really know anything about you.’ She didn’t want him to think it was just morbid curiosity.

  ‘No biggie,’ he said, but there was still an angry set to his mouth. His eyes flicked to her. ‘Sorry I snapped at you.’

  He dropped his arms to the sheet and she curled into him again, laying her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Ali got attached to me in the orphanage,’ he said quietly. ‘I guess I used to look out for her – picked her up when she cried, gave her food when the bigger kids stole hers.’

  Claire wondered if anyone had looked out for him, but she could guess. She remembered the horrific images on television of naked, emaciated children strapped to beds or caged like animals, the rocking babies who had never been picked up. Her mother had cried watching the news reports and had galvanised the whole neighbourhood to start fundraising.

  ‘Do you remember the orphanage?’ she asked tentatively, nervous of pissing him off again. She knew it would be a painful subject and he might not want to talk about it.

  ‘I remember some things. I was seven when I was adopted, so I was older than most. I remember having cold baths and being hit a lot by the staff. I remember lots of children running around naked and screaming. And being hungry – I remember that.’

  She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. She couldn’t bear to think of Luca as a frightened child, cold and hungry with no one to love him. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,’ she said.

  ‘It’s fine. Ali doesn’t remember any of it, thank God. But I remember her.’ She felt him shudder against her.

  ‘How old was Ali?’

  ‘She was three when we were adopted.’ He smiled. ‘She went apeshit when they tried to take her away and she realised I wasn’t going with them.’

  ‘So they took you too.’

  ‘Yeah. And here I am,’ he said with an air of finality, drawing a line under the subject.

  Claire was grateful when her stomach let out a long, rumbling groan, helping to dispel the gloomy atmosphere that had descended and bringing them back to the mundane.

  Luca laughed. ‘Someone wants feeding,’ he said, giving her a squeeze.

  ‘I actually haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday,’ she said. ‘I was running around all day, and then when I got here …’

  ‘You were in too much of a hurry to get me into bed to bother with food,’ Luca finished, grinning.

  ‘Yeah, pretty much.’ She giggled.

  ‘Okay, let’s have breakfast, and you can tell me all about your lousy day. And then we’re going to work on dirtying up that beautiful mouth of yours.’

  Claire looked at him quizzically.

  ‘Dirty talk,’ he explained, releasing her to throw back the duvet. ‘We’re going to work on your communication skills, remember?’

  Claire scrambled out of bed and grabbed her clothes.

  ‘Don’t bother getting dressed,’ Luca said, pulling on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. ‘Here, you can put this on.’ He grabbed a shirt from the back of a chair and threw it to her.

  Get me, Claire thought happily, as they sat at the little table eating scrambled eggs and toast – both of them half dressed because they were going straight back to bed as soon as they were done. She knew there was nothing unusual about the scene for a lot of people, but she had never had this before, and it felt almost surreal, like she was in a movie. As they ate, Claire told him about the previous day.

  ‘I like your mother.’ Luca laughed when she told him about the ‘incident’ at the nursing home.

  ‘You would like her,’ Claire said. ‘And she’d like you. You should meet her.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. She was under strict instructions not to think of Luca as a boyfriend, and here she was suggesting he meet her mother? Brilliant, Claire – just brilliant. ‘So what did you do yesterday after I left?’

  ‘Hung out with Ali for a bit, and after she left I did some work.’ He nodded across the room where a huge canvas stood on an easel. Several smaller ones were stacked against the wall.

  ‘Can I look?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Knock yourself out.’

  She picked up the last piece of her toast and went over to the canvas on the easel. The paint was still shiny and wet.

  ‘Wow!’ she breathed. She couldn’t claim to know much about art, but she felt the emotional punch of the piece, and she liked it immediately. She looked through the canvases by the wall, struck by the raw energy and power of the paintings. She recognised Luca’s sister in a couple of portraits, and there were a few nudes among the smaller canvases. They were very sensual, erotic paintings, and she wondered who the women were as her eyes lingered on them. What it would be like to have Luca paint her?

  When they had cleared away the breakfast things, they returned to the bedroom.

  ‘So, communication skills,’ Luca said, sitting on the bed. ‘You’re going to work on talking dirty – telling me what you want, in precise detail.’ He grinned. ‘But we’ll get to that. First, we have to get you expressing how you feel – preferably not through the medium of tears.’ He frowned. ‘So – say what you’d have liked to say to me yesterday.’

  She stood opposite him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When you were uncomfortable with what was happening. You should have told me to stop. You should have told me to fuck off and leave you alone.’

  ‘But I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Like you said, you couldn’t be expected to read my mind.’

  ‘Exactly – which is why I need you to tell me what you were thinking. So say it.’ He looked at her expectantly. ‘“Fuck off, Luca” – go on.’

  ‘No. It was just a misunderstanding. I know you wouldn’t have—’

  ‘Come on,’ he interrupted impatiently. ‘We’re not moving on until you get past this.’

  ‘But you were just trying to move things forward, for my sake. It wasn’t your fault …’

  ‘Claire,’ he said in a warning tone. ‘This is the most important thing I’ll ever teach you. Just say it.’

  She looked at him helplessly. ‘Don’t I call the shots? It’s my dime, remember?’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m going on strike.’

  ‘But why would I tell you to fuck off when I know you’re just trying to do what I want? That’s not fair.’

  ‘Claire. This is important. I don’t want you going along with something just because you’re not able to say how you feel. Not with me or with anyone else.’

  Still she said nothing.

  ‘Okay,’ he huffed. ‘I’ve changed my mind. We’ll do something else this afternoon instead.’

  Claire breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘We’ll have a do-over of yesterday’s lesson. You strip, I’ll watch.’ He folded his arms and regarded her with a
stony expression.

  Claire froze. She couldn’t believe he was doing this to her when he’d been so apologetic about it before.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ he said, his gaze fixed on her. When she didn’t move, he rolled his eyes impatiently. ‘I know I said to go slow, but some time this century would be good. Come on, get on with it. Take your top off.’

  She was starting to hate Luca. Her hands were clammy and tears burned the backs of her eyes.

  ‘And no crying, please,’ he drawled. ‘Because being made to feel like a sex pest is the biggest boner-killer there is.’

  ‘No. I don’t want to,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry, can’t hear you.’

  She took a deep breath, trying to make her voice stronger. ‘I said I don’t want to.’

  ‘Still can’t hear you.’

  He was really pissing her off now. ‘Fuck you!’ she spat.

  ‘That’s better. Now try saying it like you mean it. Not whispering would help.’

  ‘Fuck off, Luca!’ she said, louder this time.

  He sat forward, his face softening. ‘Good. Louder! “Fuck off, Luca!”’ he shouted.

  ‘Fuck off, Luca,’ she yelled back.

  ‘Fuck off, Luca,’ he roared, waving his arms like he was conducting an orchestra.

  ‘Fuck off, Luca!’

  He looked happier by the second as they shouted at each other, the volume of Claire’s shouts increasing until finally she screamed at the top of her lungs, ‘FUCK OFF, LUCA!’

  ‘Yes!’ He punched the air with both fists and beamed up at her, and Claire burst out laughing because he looked so damned happy that she was screaming obscenities at him. And then he joined in and they were laughing with each other. She threw herself at him and he caught her in his arms.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Now we can get to the fun stuff. Unless you meant it? If you really want me to fuck off—’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Sorry. I had to do that. I just need to know that you won’t let me do something you don’t want because you’re afraid to say no.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Because you’re quite shy, and that’s great, but—’

  ‘Luca.’ She stopped him with a finger to his lips. ‘I get it.’

  ‘Okay.’ He kissed the finger. ‘Good.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, because she knew he was just looking out for her. Besides, all the shouting had felt good – freeing. She had enjoyed it.

  ‘I like this shirt on you,’ he said, touching the collar. ‘It looks way better on you than it does on me. But I still want to get it off you.’ He began undoing the buttons slowly and then he pushed it off her shoulders, but she didn’t mind that she was sitting naked in his lap. She was getting used to him looking at her, and she liked the way his eyes darkened and his breathing changed, enjoying the power her body had over him.

  ‘Let me know what you want – what you need,’ he said, as his hands caressed her breasts. ‘Tell me if what I’m doing feels good.’

  ‘Can’t you tell?’

  ‘Well, yeah. But that’s not the point. Dirty talk is sexy. It’s a turn-on.’ He smiled. ‘You know it is.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I know it turns you on when I say things to you. I can feel it.’

  She blushed. That was true. She found it really hot when he said things like ‘You’re so wet’ and she could tell from the way he said it that he liked it. It excited her when he told her what he wanted to do to her, or praised what she was doing to him and told her how good it felt. She couldn’t deny it. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You could tell me what you want me to do to you.’

  ‘Um … have sex? I want you to have sex with me.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, stop it, you’re driving me crazy.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I want you to kiss me.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Everywhere.’

  ‘Be specific,’ he coaxed. ‘Tell me exactly what you want – where you want me to put my hands or my dick.’

  ‘I want you to put your dick in my vagina,’ she said.

  ‘Okay, maybe we should start with something simpler. You could pay me a compliment. Tell me something you like about me – about how I look.’ He pulled back and spread his arms wide, putting himself on display for her perusal.

  She hesitated.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be true.’ He smiled crookedly.

  ‘You have the most gorgeous smile,’ she said. ‘And your eyes are … beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He grinned. ‘But that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’

  ‘I meant that,’ she said, offended. ‘You really do. And you have lovely hair.’ She ran a hand through his curls. ‘You’re very handsome.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said more gently. ‘But I was thinking of something sexual – something about my body.’ His eyes dropped meaningfully to his crotch and she gasped.

  ‘You want me to – to compliment you on your—’ She couldn’t even say the word, waving vaguely in the direction of his groin.

  He looked at her, his head cocked to one side, waiting. When she said nothing, his fingers moved to the waistband of his boxers. ‘Maybe you need a reminder.’

  ‘No!’ She put up a hand to stop him. She racked her brain. What was there to say about it? It was a penis. Though there was one thing … She cleared her throat. ‘You, um … you have a very big thing,’ she mumbled, her eyes sliding away.

  He threw his head back and guffawed. ‘A very big thing? That’s nice to hear – and accurate,’ he said, sobering up. ‘But thing? Come on, Claire. Use your words.’

  ‘You have a large penis,’ she said, with a mischievous smile, deliberately refusing to use the words he wanted just to wind him up.

  His lips twitched. ‘Say something about how it looks when I’m aroused.’

  ‘Um … it’s hard? And it goes a bit longer.’

  He chuckled, aware that she was just teasing him now. ‘It goes a bit longer?’ He tossed her onto the bed and started tickling her sides. ‘What else?’

  ‘It increases in circumference as well as in length,’ she yelped, as he hit a particularly ticklish spot.

  ‘Oh, baby, you’re making me so hot with your talk of my dimensions. I love the way your breathing goes all funny when I kiss you here.’ He kissed the side of her neck.

  ‘I like when you touch my nipples and they go pointy,’ she squealed.

  ‘They expand and increase in volume.’ He let her go and they collapsed, laughing, beside each other.

  When his laughter subsided, Luca smiled at her fondly. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ he said.

  ‘Well … you could have sex with me?’

  ‘Oh, go on then,’ he said, heaving an exaggerated sigh. ‘You’ve won me over with your dirty mouth.’

  Later, when it came to the crucial moment, Luca handed her the condom. ‘Have you ever done this?’

  ‘Put on a condom? No. Not really.’

  ‘Well, now’s your chance.’

  ‘You want me to put it on?’

  ‘It’s something you should know if you want to come across as experienced. It’s pretty basic stuff.’

  ‘Okay.’ She pulled open the packet and took out the condom.

  ‘Okay, that’s the tip,’ he said, pointing to the top. ‘Make sure you—’

  ‘Actually, it’s not strictly true that I’ve never done this,’ she said. ‘Just not on an actual person.’

  ‘Don’t tell me – a banana?’

  She nodded. ‘A banana and a YouTube video.’ She had been practising for this very moment, so at least there would be one thing she could do.

  ‘Well, now’s your chance to try it out on a live human being.’

  She grabbed his shaft firmly, placed the condom on the top and slid it down, pleased at how smoothly it went on. ‘I did it!’ She grinned up at him, proud of her success. ‘That was easy. It w
orked just like on a banana!’

  ‘Very good. Next time I’ll show you how to do it with your mouth.’

  ‘Oh!’ Her smile vanished. Just when she’d thought something was simple.

  Luca laughed. ‘Don’t look so scared. It’s not hard. Unlike me.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked her afterwards, as she lay in his arms.

  ‘Yeah … I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

  ‘No, I am. It’s just …’

  ‘Come on – out with it. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them. We may not be covering this again.’

  Claire took a deep breath. ‘It’s just that I didn’t … you know …’ She flapped her hand, trying to find the word.

  ‘Come?’ Luca asked, surprised.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Luca frowned. ‘Are you telling me you’ve started faking on me? I told you—’

  ‘No, no.’ She shook her head frantically. ‘I wasn’t faking. That’s not what I meant. I did have an orgasm. I always do when you …’

  ‘When I finger you?’

  ‘Um … yeah.’

  ‘And when I go down on you.’

  ‘Yes. But I didn’t come when we were … when you were inside me. Not until you did … other stuff. I never have,’ she admitted, a little frown creasing her brow.

  ‘Is that what’s worrying you? That you don’t come when we’re fucking?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She sighed in frustration. She felt like she was flunking class.

  ‘That’s perfectly normal,’ he said.

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Yeah. Lots of women have a hard time coming from penetrative sex alone. Some never do. There are still lots of different positions we can try. But don’t worry about it. You have a good time, right?’

  ‘Yes, I have a brilliant time!’

  ‘Well, that’s all that matters. Try not to be so focused on it – just enjoy what we’re doing and maybe it’ll happen in time.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’

  ‘It’s no biggie. There’s no right or wrong way to have sex. It’s just a matter of trying different things and finding what does it for you. Then you can ask for whatever you need in the future.’

  She didn’t think she’d ever be good at asking for what she wanted during sex. ‘Maybe you could give me a note?’ she said hopefully.