CowSex

by Lesley Jones

  Still nothing.

  I hear a banging noise and head towards his bedroom. I’ve never been in here, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be here now. Tentatively, I push the door open.

  “Koa, you in here?”

  Zero. Not a sound.

  He also has an en-suite, and just in case he’s decided to shower and moisturise, too, I check in there.

  Zilch.

  I return to his bedroom and spot his open wallet lying on the bed. He’s obviously been here. I wonder if he’s gone out to try to buy condoms, surely he would’ve told me? Plus, his wallet is still here.

  I hear the banging noise again, but this time it sounds like it’s coming from the other end of the house.

  I check the driveway through the window, just to be sure Koa hasn’t left, as I’m starting to freak the fuck out.

  His truck is exactly where he parked it earlier.

  I make my way to the hallway and call his name again.

  “If you’re trying to scare me, Cowboy, it’s working. Stop fucking about.”

  I hear what sounds like a door being rattled, and then from a distance, the sound of Koa’s voice calling me.

  Dashing down the stairs, I can clearly see the outline of a person through the stained glass in the front door.

  “Open the fucking door, Gracie.”

  I swing it back, and there he is. Totally stark bollock naked apart from his brown biker boots.

  He stares at me wide-eyed for a split second, his skin looking like it has a slightly blue tinge to it in the moonlight.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  He opens his mouth, but his jaw trembles and his teeth start to chatter. That’s when I realise he’s shivering, his skin is, in fact, blue and there are snowflakes in his hair and beard, or possibly ice.

  He doesn’t look happy.

  “Oh my God, how long have you been out there?”

  He takes a step inside, both his hands are cupping his dick and balls, and I pray to the Queen—because the King probably wouldn’t give a toss—of all things frozen, that they haven’t dropped off or received any kind of permanent damage.

  I lead him to the front room and sit him on the sofa.

  Our clothes are still in a pile on the floor, so I pull his top over his head and help him on with it, then pull the fur blanket over his legs.

  I put another couple of logs on the fire and give it a dig with the poker to get it going again.

  “How long were you been out there?”

  “Since I lef-left you,” he stutters. I stare down at him with my hands on my hips for a moment, wondering what Bear Grylls would do. Drinking my own wee or getting naked and sharing my body heat both seem a little inappropriate right now.

  Instead, I pick door number three and go to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of the bourbon we bought in town earlier. I leave out the ice, because...well, again, it just seems like taking the piss to offer ice to a frozen man.

  I don’t know why, but I suddenly get the giggles, and I have to compose myself before I can return to the living room with Koa’s drink.

  “Here, get that down you. D’ya want something hot, as well as that?”

  “Thi-this is good. Tha-thanks.”

  I watch as he takes a sip.

  “What happened?”

  “I went out to my truck t-t-to look for a condom and the wind must...must’ve blown the door shut behind me.”

  “Where were your keys?”

  “I nev-never lock the truck when I’m he-here. Did-didn’t take them outside with me.”

  I pick up the wine I abandoned earlier and take a sip. I’m not sure if it’s shock or nerves that are making me want to laugh, but I’m fighting to get a grip.

  “Didn’t you hear me b-banging on the door?”

  I suck both my lips in and hold on to them.

  He stares at me.

  I stare at him.

  “I had a quick shower,” I blurt.

  “A sh-shower?”

  “Yeah, you know, just a quick freshen up.”

  “I was outside freezing to death, an-and you were taking a shower?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I just thought while you were gone….” I bit my lip again, trying to stop the smile before it starts. “I left the door open, hoping you’d join me. I found a sexy playlist and everything.”

  “Playlist?”

  He not looking happy, but I explain anyway.

  “Yeah, on Spotify. “Music To Fuck To” or something. It’s probably still playing. Anyway. That’s why I didn’t hear you.” I roll my lips back between my teeth because I still can’t trust myself not to giggle. “Are you all right? No permanent damage, is there? Nothing froze and fell off?”

  He sips his drink and looks over the top of his glass at me.

  “You think this is funny, Essex?”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I practically shriek as I finally start to laugh loudly. “Gives a whole new meaning to blue balls, Cowboy. Yours probably literally were blue. The rest of you was when I opened the door.” I cackle.

  He continues to stare in silence. Not smiling and definitely not laughing.

  “You want me to check your dick didn’t drop off? I’m not sure I could see it when you sat down. Maybe I could blow on it? Give it the kiss of life?” I offer.

  “My dick’s okay, just feeling the effects of the cold.”

  “Just think, while you were out there, you quite literally were dying for a shag.” I crack up with laughter again.

  “Glad you find this so amusing, Essex.”

  “Oh come on, Cowboy, it’s fucking hilarious. Who in their right mind would go outside in this weather, naked, except for a pair of boots?”

  I’m rambling. And still laughing. Koa’s still staring at me.

  “You ever think about becoming a nurse?” he asks randomly.

  “Me? Fuck no.”

  “Good, because your bedside manner’s shit.”

  I try. I really do try. But the giggles have got me, and I have to put my now empty wine glass down on the coffee table so that I can wipe the tears from under my eyes.

  I eventually manage to calm myself, and we both remain silent as I top up my wine. The fire is once again roaring with life, the flames giving off a yellow-and-golden glow.

  “So, did you find one then? A condom I mean?”

  “Nope.”

  I nod, not really sure what to say. I s’pose the moment has passed anyway. Koa’s phone rings from where it sits next to his empty beer bottle from earlier, and he leans forward and picks it.

  His phone is some crappy old flip type thing that must date back to the nineties, and I wonder how he survives without the modern convenience of a smartphone. I run my life and my business from mine, couldn’t be without it.

  He continues glaring at me as he takes the call. “Carmichael.” His eyes widen and then close for a long moment. “Hey, Lexi.”

  My red wine suddenly tastes like acid and begins to bubble in my stomach.

  “I’m actually out of town, well, I’m in Addison.”

  He strokes his beard with those long, slightly calloused fingers of his, no longer looking in my direction.

  “Um, that’s probably not such a good idea right now.” He stands, holding the blanket around him and his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he scoops his jogging bottoms from the floor. He doesn’t look back at me before he strides from the room.

  I gulp down my wine and focus on the sensation of it eroding my insides, it’s so much better than acknowledging that Koa just left me sitting here to talk on the phone to another woman.

  I feel hurt and humiliated. What the fuck am I doing here? I know I agreed to no-strings, casual sex, but this is the exact reality check I need to prove that I can’t do it. It’s just not in me.

  I’m just a girl with a heart that feels all the feels and right now, those feels fucking hurt. If we’d actually had sex earlier and then his phone had rung, I think I’d be feeling
a whole lot worse. In fact, I’m sure of it.

  KOA

  “HAVE YOU GOT SOMEONE THERE with you?”

  “Lexi, don’t do that.”

  I’m not sure how I would describe Lex. We’ve been friends our whole lives. We made out a few times as teenagers, but then Danielle came along and started leading me around by my dick, and we all know how that ended.

  After the accident, Lexi would come over and keep me company whenever she was home from college, and eventually, we started hooking up. The band began to make it big, and we drifted apart, but it’s remained a casual thing on and off over the years. She works as a makeup artist on location all over the world and usually calls whenever she’s nearby.

  Last time I saw her was around two months ago, just before she headed off to Europe to work on some HBO series.

  “What? Ask you a simple question?”

  “Yeah. That’s not what we do. Not what we are.”

  “What are we exactly, Koa?”

  This was the third time Lexi has asked me this question. It’d been good with her for years. No questions. She never said a word when I married Lucy, wished me well and dropped off my radar. Not sure how she heard about our divorce, but as soon as it was finalised, she got back in touch, and at first, it was exactly as it was before. Casual. The last few times I’d seen her, though, I sensed a change. She’d spoken about moving back home, buying a place, and settling down. I’d been there and done that. It hadn’t worked out for me. Either time.

  I wasn’t ever gonna even attempt to go there again, and Lexi knew this.

  “I’m gonna hang up now.”

  “No, don’t, please. I’m sorry. I’ve had a few wines.” Silence and then, “Who is she?”

  Who is she? I’ve no fucking clue. A gorgeous English woman, who’s soft, curvy, covered in tattoos, has pink and purple hair, says a lot of strange things that I don’t understand, and can deliver a mean knee or foot to the balls that’s capable of incapacitating any man.

  “No one you know.”

  “Is it serious?”

  I look towards the living room as I lean back against the kitchen counter. I’ve toed off my boots, pulled on my sweatpants, wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and am finally warm again.

  “It’s...it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? The one thing you’ve never wanted. Especially from me.”

  “Lexi.”

  “Fuck you, Koa.”

  She ends the call.

  I finish my drink, refill my glass, and head back to where I left Gracie on the sofa, feeling like I’m losing my fucking mind.

  She’s standing, about to exit the room I think, and stops mid-stride when she sees me.

  “Night, Koa.”

  What the fuck?

  I hook my arm around her waist and pull her into me as she passes.

  “Where the fuck you goin’, Essex?”

  She looks at me briefly and then moves her gaze up and over my shoulder and then down to my chest. Her eyes are everywhere except where I want them to be, which is on mine.

  “Bed. I’m tired. Got a bit of a headache and my arm hurts.”

  “You pissed at me?”

  I hook my middle two fingers under her chin and tilt her head so that she has to look at me.

  “I’m not pissed at you. I’m disappointed with myself, but not pissed at you.”

  “Why?”

  Her face is still angled towards me, but her eyes are again not meeting mine. A mild sense of panic starts to build in my chest, and I don’t know why.

  “Things got out of hand earlier. That...what happened between us...that shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry. If it’s gonna make things awkward, I’ll move to a motel.”

  I want her to look at me, but she continues to deliberately avoid eye contact.

  “No, you won’t. Why would it be awkward? We talked about this. Nothing complicated, no strings, right?” My voice takes on an almost encouraging edge as I try to convince her not to back out.

  “Yeah, we did. But now that I’ve had a moment to think, I can’t do it. I’ve never done it, it’s just not in me.”

  “You don’t even wanna try?” The panic’s building and my words don’t hide the fact when they rush out fast and accusatory. It’s wrong to make her feel pressured, I know this, and it’s not something I’ve ever done to a woman before.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Is it because of the call I just took? Because if that’s it, it was nothing.”

  Her eyes finally meet mine.

  And I wish they hadn’t.

  “It was nothing? So, Lexi isn’t one of your casual, no-strings fucks?”

  My breath comes out in a whoosh, escaping through both my nose and mouth. My thoughts race to come up with an answer.

  I don’t want her to leave the room. To go to bed alone. And it has nothing to do with my wanting to fuck her.

  She’s obviously hurt, and I hate that I’m the cause. Answering my phone without checking who was calling was a dick move. Hell, answering my phone at all wasn’t one of my best ideas.

  “That’s what I thought.” She turns and pulls away from me.

  I respect her enough not to lie. Gracie is far from dumb and will see right through me anyway, but I can’t leave things the way they are.

  “Wait, Gracie? I’m sorry. You go to bed if that’s really what you want to do, and I promise, things won’t be awkward tomorrow. Answering that call was a shitty move on my part, and I’m sorry.”

  She remains perfectly still as I speak. I’m not sure if she’s still debating with herself over what to do next, or waiting for me to say more.

  “Will you still come shopping with me and help pick bedroom furniture for my kids?”

  It’s all I have. I’m not gonna force her into anything she’s not sure about, and I’m in no position to offer her anything more than I already have. At least this way, I get to spend the day with her tomorrow. She’s good company, and I need the help.

  She turns slowly to look at me. “If that’s what you want, Koa, I’m still happy to help.”

  Koa. Not Cowboy. No attempt to flirt with me. Her voice is flat, her eyes barely landing on mine.

  “It is. I mean...yeah, please. I would like that. We’ll make an early start and head over to Aspen. There are some great stores out that way.”

  She nods. Turns away from me again and walks towards the stairs. The robe she’s wearing is light blue, and for the first time, I notice that across the back is a silver crown and the words “Queen of Fucking Everything”. It’s so Gracie that it makes me smile.

  All I can do is watch her leave, unsure of why I so badly want her to stay, or at least to ask me to join her.

  Her steps halt, and she turns. My stomach drops into my balls and hope blooms for a second in my chest.

  “Does she have a favourite colour, your little girl?”

  I regard her for a moment. Her robe is pulled tight around her tiny waist, outlining her perfect round tits and the curve of her hips. Her hands are buried deep in the pockets at the front.

  Her hair was down earlier, she must have put it up when she showered. When she showered and waited for me to join her. And now, here we are. All awkward and one-word answers.

  Maybe she’s right. Tonight’s clusterfuck is for the best.

  “Purple and pink. Like your hair.” I point as I mention her hair. “That’s why I said she’d love your hair and your ink.”

  She gives me a small smile and another nod and turns, this time not stopping her ascent of the stairs.

  I WAKE WITH MY NECK bent sideways, a dead arm, and dribble in my beard. I also have a raging fucking boner.

  I open my eyes and groan as I sit up straight from where I must’ve passed out on my sofa last night.

  A three-quarter empty bottle of Jim Beam sits on my coffee table, and an empty glass is wedged between my thigh and the side of the sofa, which is where I apparently dropped it. Good thing I’m not a
smoker, I would’ve set myself on fire and burned the fucking house down if that had been a cigarette.

  I slide my hands inside my sweats and attempt to force down the evidence of the hot dream I was having about Gracie before I woke.

  I swear the little witch has cast some kind of magic spell and turned me back into the horny fifteen-year-old boy I once was.

  In my dream, we were sitting right where I am now. My cock buried deep inside her as she straddled my thighs and rode me. I watched her tits bounce with the force of our actions, and her nipples continuously brushed against the hair on my chest.

  I close my eyes and attempt to conjure the sight, taste, and smell of Gracie Elliott like they were in my dream, like they were for real when I almost had her last night.

  I let out another groan and press the heels of my hands into each of my eyes.

  I’m so fucking confused. Gracie is just so easy to be with. Yeah, it’s only been a matter of days, but I’m a grown ass man, almost forty. I know exactly what I like and what I don’t like, and I like Gracie so damn much it has me all twisted.

  This is not what I need.

  She is not what I need.

  Not now. Not ever again.

  I repeat this to myself while I shower and jerk off to images of how Gracie looked as she came apart on my hand and fingers last night.

  It does nothing to ease the confusion in my head, the tightness in my chest, or the knot in my stomach.

  I’m totally fucked and have no clue what I’m gonna do about it.

  GRACIE

  I STARE AT THE CEILING. It’s not a particularly interesting view, a mass of white emulsion covered plasterboard, the light rose surrounding the lighting fixture is pretty, though, and the coving that runs around the edges of the ceiling where it joins the walls is lovely, too. All straight lines and angles.

  It must be my designer’s brain that makes me notice things like this whenever I walk into a room. Colours, corners, angles, textures. They’re what I notice before I take in the furniture or the layout.

  I’ve never had any formal training as a designer, I can’t sew for shit and never studied art at school. I always thought I couldn’t draw. Put a vase full of flowers, a bowl of fruit, or a human hand in front of me, and I’d come up with something that resembled a painting by a drunk and high Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso that had been left out in the rain and then melted in the sun just a little bit.