CowSex

by Lesley Jones

  “I grew up close to the city. Our advice was to abstain from sex with lampposts, police cars, and traffic lights.”

  “And did you take that advice?”

  “I prefer having sex with something warm, hard, and either has a pulse or contains batteries.”

  I give him my sweetest smile and attempt to squeeze past him. His hands go to his hips, and he stares at the timber floor as he shakes his head, and I deliberately brush my arm against his chest while finishing my descent.

  I’m flirting. I’m stranded in a foreign country, all alone in the middle of nowhere, with a man I know nothing about, and I’m flirting with him.

  As my grandad used to say, “I must want my brains testing.”

  I’m playing with fire here, and I’m very likely to get burned—or dead. Raped. Murdered. Chopped into pieces. Never to be seen or heard of again.

  “I took some steaks out of the freezer earlier. There’s a grill out back, was gonna cook ’em up with a couple of baked potatoes. You wanna share?” Koa says as he follows me into the kitchen.

  I go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. I’m not thirsty, I just need to be doing something.

  I turn around to see Koa leaning back against the worktop, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles.

  “Sounds good, but why on earth would you have a grill outside? And why would you go out there to use it in this weather when there’s a perfectly good oven in here?”

  “You keep the grill in the house in England?”

  “Well, yeah. Our ovens come with a grill function, and our ovens are in the kitchen, along with the fridge, freezer, and washing machine.”

  “Your washing machine is in the kitchen? What the fuck do you put in the laundry room, just the dryer?”

  “Most houses don’t have a laundry room, and if they do, we call it a utility room. If you have one, your dryer goes in there, if not, wherever you can squeeze it, but the grill is always attached to the oven and always kept in the kitchen.”

  “Doesn’t that make things a little cramped? What about the smoke and the fire risk?”

  I open my mouth to ask one thing but instead say another. “Show me your grill.”

  Now he looks as confused as I feel but moves anyway. I follow him, and he leads me through the utility room, which contains an enormous top-loading washing machine and an almost identical dryer. Koa flips a light switch, and we step out a small door and onto a brightly lit, covered deck.

  “It’s not the greatest, I have a better one at my other house I should have brought with me.” He holds out his arm and gestures towards an enormous stainless steel barbeque.

  “That’s not a grill, that’s a barbeque.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No, a grill is something that’s part of your oven or a function built into your oven. That’s definitely a barbeque. If there were any Australians around, I’m sure they’d agree with me, Cowboy.”

  “What the fuck is a grill function? You bake or roast in an oven, or you use the stove top to boil or fry. There’s no grilling, that’s what this thing is for, and that’s why it’s called a grill.”

  “All right, chill out, Cowboy. No need to get your knickers in a knot.”

  I’d forgotten the information the unreliable Alma-May had sent me that mentioned the cabin had all of this included and despite the fact that it was currently freezing, I couldn’t wait to spend time out here in the warmer months.

  Something far more interesting than the barbeque/grill catches my eye.

  “Ohhh, you’ve got a Jacuzzi. Does it work?”

  “I’ve got a what?”

  “Jacuzzi? Spa?”

  I move towards it, pointing, so he knows what I’m talking about.

  “Hot tub.”

  “That’ll do. Does it work?”

  “Far as I’m aware.”

  “Cool. Can I give it a try?”

  “It’s not set up for use right now. We drain it at the end of the summer, so it doesn’t freeze. If you really wanna use it, I can get it working, though.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” I shiver the words out.

  “Now, steak? Was that a yes or no?”

  “Yes from me, Cowboy.”

  “Get your ass inside before you freeze then, Missy. I’ll get the grill warmed up.”

  I PARTIALLY NUKE TWO BIG potatoes before popping them into the oven to finish cooking. I find some frozen green beans, which I steam, and when everything is almost cooked, Koa braves the elements and goes back outside to ‘grill’ the steaks.

  We work in virtual silence and then sit down in front of the huge flat screen television and roaring fire to eat our food from the plates balanced in trays on our laps. Koa has kindly cut my steak into thin strips so that I can eat it with one hand.

  “Anything you wanna watch?” he asks as soon as we sit.

  “No clue, what’s on?”

  He begins to flick through the channels at such a speed I have no chance to work out what I’m seeing.

  Eventually, he stops on an American football game.

  I yawn loudly.

  His eyes cut to me, and I give him my sweet smile before popping a piece of steak into my mouth.

  “Steak’s excellent. Never had it grilled before. Only fried or barbequed.”

  He ignores me and carries on watching the game, or at least pretends to.

  “So, how old’s your son?”

  “Just turned nineteen.”

  “Really? You don’t look old enough to have a son that age,” I say to be nice.

  “I’m not. I was younger than he is now when I became a father. You wanna beer? I don’t have any wine, just bourbon.”

  “Beer’s good.”

  I’m not really a fan, but for some reason, I’m in the mood for a drink.

  I manage one more mouthful and set my tray aside as he comes back into the room with two bottles.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking the beer from his hand. I wait for him to take a swig and continue eating before I start my interrogation again.

  “That must’ve been hard, becoming a dad so young.”

  “Was what it was. I did what I had to do.”

  So yeah, he’s gonna give me nothing then.

  “Does he live with his mum?”

  Koa’s fork, which is loaded with a piece of steak and some green beans stops halfway to his mouth, which is hanging wide open.

  I checked his ring finger earlier, no wedding ring and no tan line to say that one has ever been there.

  I may find him attractive and be desperately in need of some intimacy with a living, breathing human, but I’m not desperate enough to be sniffing around someone else’s husband.

  He turns his gaze to meet mine. “With my mom.” He shoves his food into his mouth and chews.

  “Really? That’s nice. They’re close then? I was close to my grandparents, I told ya that already.”

  “Close enough,” he replies without taking his eyes from the telly.

  I watch him eat for a while longer and sip my beer.

  “Does she live close by?”

  “Who?”

  “Your mum.”

  “Montana.”

  I shrug, feeling none the wiser. I’ve done business in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago. East Coast, West Coast, the middle, other than that, I’m not great with American geography.

  “How far away is that?”

  “Ten hours if you drive, an hour and a half if you fly.”

  “Is that where you grew up?”

  “Nope. I grew up right here in Addison.”

  “Oh. Your parents retire there or something?”

  He breathed in deeply through his nose.

  “You know, for such a little-bit, you sure do make some noise.”

  I probably should be offended, but he just called me a little-bit, and for some reason, it’s made my chest feel warm and caused my throat to feel tight.

  I let him finish his food while I compose my
self. As soon as he sets his knife and fork down, I dive straight back in.

  “So, how come they’re there, but you’re here, even though this isn’t your house and where’s your wife, or your son’s mum?”

  He retrieves his beer bottle from the floor and drains the contents.

  “My dad died when I was a kid. Worked construction. Had his own business. Built this place in fact.”

  “Wow.” I’m genuinely impressed.

  “Working on a roof one day while building a house in Woody Creek, slipped, fell, broke his neck. I was eleven.”

  “I’m so sorry, Koa.” And I really am. I was exactly his age when I lost my grandad, and I know it’s something I’ll never get over. “It’s hard, losing someone close. I have no one now.”

  His eyes slice back to me and dart all over my face.

  “My mom remarried when I was fourteen. Bill’s great. He inherited a ranch just as I turned fifteen, but rather than mess up my schooling and football, we stayed here until I went off to college and then they moved to the ranch in Montana.”

  “And then you had a baby.” It’s not a question, I’m just assuming he was eighteen by then, and if he was younger than his son is now, then that’s the point where the baby happened.

  “Then I became a father, yeah.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  He ignores my question, gets up, and leaves the room. A few seconds later, he comes back with a bottle of bourbon and three whisky tumblers, one of them filled with ice.

  I’m even less of a fan of bourbon than I am of beer, but, if that’s all that’s on offer, I’ll give it a go.

  He sets everything on the coffee table, puts ice in each glass, and then pours us both a drink. Taking my almost empty beer from me, he replaces it. I watch him as he then collects both of our trays and takes them out to the kitchen. Finally, he returns to his seat, puts his feet up onto the coffee table, and takes a sip from his glass.

  I curl my legs under me in the opposite corner of the sofa.

  “How’d I manage that? Not sure how you go about it in your country, Essex, but here you start with a man and a woman, and they have these parts on each of their bodies—”

  “Fatherhood, you dickhead. How’d you manage with being a father at such a young age? That’s what I was asking.”

  “Was what it was. Had no choice but to deal.”

  “Were you together, or was it a one-night stand thing?”

  He stares at the telly in silence for a while, and I begin to wonder if he’s gonna answer when he speaks.

  “Danielle and I had been together since junior high.” That’s as far as he goes before draining his glass and pouring himself another drink.

  “We were...it was like...not being from around here, I don’t know that you’ll fully understand, but I was in a band and was the school football star, destined for great things. She was head of the cheer squad. Her dad was the richest in town, so she wore the latest clothes, drove the best car.

  “We were the American dream. I was scouted at age twelve, my scholarship a done deal before I turned sixteen. Danielle stayed here to do a business management course at a community college while I went off to USC to earn a name for myself, which I did. Both on the field and off it. It was a whole new world for me.”

  “Did you cheat on her?”

  It’s none of my business...but hello, female.

  “No, but there were girls everywhere I turned. Everywhere. From the day I arrived at college, to the day I had to leave. I got caught up in it all at first. I never strayed, never cheated on her, but I was getting tempted, and I was enjoying the parties. I stopped coming home weekends and holidays. She became clingy, always calling and crying down the phone, so I decided to make a clean break and end things with her.”

  He shifts his position, drains the contents of his glass again, and then leans forward to refill it.

  “You want another?” He gestures with the bottle towards me, and I offer him my glass, which he also tops up.

  It strikes me then, how surreal this whole situation is. Two random people—complete strangers—sharing a house, meals, and life stories while curled up in front of a fire, drinking bourbon.

  I watch him as he rests his elbow on the arm of the sofa and turns his gaze back to me.

  His eyes have a glassy sheen, and I wonder if it’s the alcohol, the glow of the fire, or the conversation that’s causing it.

  “She took it badly. When I say badly, I really mean she was hysterical. Crying and lashing out at me. Then, just as fast as she lost it, she calmed down. It was like a switch inside her had been flipped, and she began agreeing with me about the reasons why it’d be best to part ways.

  I had used my fake ID to buy us some alcohol, and we had sat on the bed of my truck drinking a bottle of cheap vodka together. We talked about our lives, hopes, wishes, and dreams for the future.

  She wished me well, and we made love under the stars one final time.”

  “Oh, Koa.” I knew what was coming next. I knew of women that had done this exact kind of thing to trap a man.

  He smiled while staring down into his glass.

  “Should have known. Should have worked it out for myself. You just did an’ I ain’t even gotten to tell you what happened next.”

  He turns his smile towards me, but it’s not a happy smile. It’s sad and possibly carries a hint of bitterness.

  “I was over halfway through my first year when she called and told me she was pregnant. She’d been on the pill for a couple of years, so I had no clue how it could have happened. We’d been having sex since she turned sixteen without so much as a scare.”

  He shrugs and watches the flames dance in the fire.

  “Something I should’ve realised about Danielle was that she’d always liked to get her own way, and she was good at getting it, too. She was the spoiled little rich girl who never heard, or listened to, the word no. There was no way that she wasn’t gonna get what she wanted, and what she wanted was me.”

  I started to feel too warm. My sore wrist began to throb, and I was sure that my blood pressure was rising on Koa’s behalf.

  “She wanted to be the wife of an NFL player. She wasn’t happy with a rich daddy, she wanted a rich husband, too. What she didn’t count on was all of that meaning nothing to me.

  I walked away from college. I walked away from the game. I wasn’t gonna have Dani’s family supporting her and my baby—my family—so that I could stay in college. So, I did what I thought was the right thing.”

  His hand rakes through his hair and then tugs on his beard.

  “I came home. I borrowed money from my mom and Bill and rented us a little two-bedroomed place on River Road. I got work with my dad’s construction company, which my mom was still in charge of, and started earning money. We were married the following month.”

  “How was Danielle with that, you giving up college and football?”

  “Not happy, but, I told her straight up that I either came home and got a job and supported us or I walked away.”

  I lift the sling over my head and release my arm.

  “That bothering you?”

  “It’s aching, so I thought I’d give it a stretch.”

  “You’ve probably drunk too much liquor now to be taking painkillers.”

  “I’ll just have to stick with the bourbon then, hope that numbs the pain.”

  He closes his eyes for one, two, or maybe twenty seconds as I watch.

  “It doesn’t work, Gracie. Been tryin’ it for going on twenty years, so you can take my word as gospel on that.”

  “Why, what pain are you trying to numb?”

  I reach for a cushion, place it on my knees, and rest my arm on top.

  “You really wanna hear it? How the life of Addison High’s most celebrated prom king and queen went to absolute shit?”

  His voice rises a little, and I feel uncomfortable. He’s getting angry, and not knowing him beyond the last day or so, I have no id
ea how this might go.

  “Not if you don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or angry.”

  “I’ve been uncomfortable and angry about it for twenty years. Don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I won’t be.”

  I’m not sure what to say, how to proceed. I’ve no clue what could have happened between him and Danielle. I don’t know if it’s bad, sad, or horrific. Did she cheat on him, die? I can’t even begin to surmise.

  “We were good for a while. We didn’t have much, but we made a go of things. Her dad insisted on paying for the wedding, so she got the day she’d always dreamed of. My mom and Bill helped us out with furniture, and both of our parents helped with stuff for the baby. I hooked up with the guys from school that I’d played in the band with, and we started playing all around the area on Friday and Saturday nights, and it brought in a little extra cash.”

  He turns and looks at me before asking, “Did you always wanna be a fashion designer, Essex?”

  His question throws me off for a second, not the question actually, just that the focus has now suddenly switched to me.

  “No. I mean I...I never set out to be a fashion designer, and that’s only really part of what I do. It just kinda happened by accident.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ve always been into fashion,” I explain. “Worked my way through school and then college where I was studying business. Then my mum got sick and died. It all happened very quickly, and I just gave up on college and went full-time at the clothes shop I’d been working in.”

  I pause and have a ponder how much detail I wanna get into. How much does he really wanna know?

  “You want the whole story?” I use his tact and throw the ball back in his court.

  “Give it to me, Essex, all of it.” And fuck me, wouldn’t I like to. He looks and sounds so sexy sitting next to me—all the time in fact—that I just wanna climb across the sofa and sit right on his face, or dick. I’m not fussed, either’ll work I’m sure.

  My toes go into curl overdrive inside my UGGs, and the cushion I’m resting my arm on moves with their motion.

  “You sure you’re man enough, Cowboy?”