The (Im)Perfect Girlfriend

by Lucy-Anne Holmes

  ‘There you go, Roller Girl,’ laughed Rachel.

  ‘Who’s Roller Girl?’

  I rolled my eyes at Rachel.

  ‘A beautiful character from a film,’ I managed to get in quickly before Rachel had the chance to inform her that Roller Girl was a 1970s porn star.

  ‘I’ll do your make-up in a sec, but put these on first.’ Rachel handed Erin a pair of earrings. It was a sweet, if septic, gesture, as Rachel had to take them out of her own ears first. They were the biggest, sparkliest, dangliest earrings I’d ever seen. It would be like lugging the Oxford Street Christmas decorations around by your lobes.

  ‘Dress! Now!’ was Rachel’s next instruction. Erin obediently began a shy change in the corner of the room. I wished I wasn’t witnessing it. Rampant convent girl gives nice Christian girl a makeover. It felt like something I read in Jackie when I was eight. Those stories never ended well.

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend, Erin?’ asked Rachel. This was an embarrassing question for Erin because:

  1 it was an embarrassing question for anyone

  2 all she was wearing was a pair of very sensible knickers

  Erin shook her head self-consciously. This sparked a look in Rachel’s eyes that would have terrified even Bruce Willis in a vest.

  ‘You need to put your light on, darling. If your light’s not on, you won’t get a ride. Don’t worry, darling, we’ll find you a fella in no time.’

  Erin responded with a look that demonstrated she intended to worry about the situation a great deal. But such was Rachel’s ability to bark orders in such quick succession that you didn’t have time to protest that Erin simply nodded.

  ‘Would you like a drink, Erin?’ I asked sympathetically. ‘Look on it as though it’s medicine.’

  She hesitated and then, to my surprise, nodded. I made her and Rachel a gin and tonic from my mini-bar and when I turned round I gasped. Erin looked stunning. She looked so beautiful she would have made Cheryl Cole look rough.

  ‘Go Gok,’ I cooed to Rachel, who was giving Erin smokier eyes than a pub patio.

  ‘Finish that drink and we’ll be off.’

  Rachel stood with her arms folded as Erin swallowed and then grimaced a few times.

  ‘Come, Sarah, please come,’ asked Erin when she’d drunk as much as she could.

  I did feel bad about this. I wouldn’t normally have allowed a sweet young girl to be sullied by a sexual deviant with an old vendetta. But I had my own problems that night and I’m ashamed to say they were making me a bit mean.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said shaking my head to Erin.

  ‘Will you take a photo of us?’ asked Erin.

  ‘Of course.’ I took her camera from her. They stood together in front of me. ‘Say, “Lesbian!”’ I instructed. I read somewhere that the word ‘lesbian’ gives you the perfect photo face.

  Rachel yelled the word. Erin just opened her mouth in surprise. Eventually I got some lovely ones of them both. I even took one on my evil camera as well.

  ‘What will you do?’ Erin asked when I’d finished.

  ‘Nothing much,’ I said sadly.

  ‘Is something up with you?’ asked Rachel softly.

  ‘Nothing. I just had a bit of a fax/text row with Simon, that’s all,’ I said, handing Erin back her camera.

  Rachel’s face lit up like a new coin in the sunlight.

  ‘Oh, well, you need to have sex quickly to make it up!’

  ‘Brilliant, Rach, I’m in LA.’

  ‘Come on, Erin,’ said Rachel with a sly smirk. ‘Let’s leave Sarah to get on with some make-up phone sex.’

  PHONE SEX!!!

  nineteen

  PHONE SEX! I’d never had phone sex for the simple reason that I knew I’d be CATASTROPHIC at it.

  1 I went to a convent – I still giggle when I hear the word ‘willy’

  2 I’m rubbish at sex speak – I seem to have a problem with pretty much all sex words. For a start, what are you supposed to call your lady place?

  Pussy – too porn mag and unfair on kittens

  Fanny – sounds like I’ve got an old aunt down there

  Twat – sounds like I’ve got David Cameron down there

  In light of these facts, I shouldn’t have attempted phone sex for the first time that night. Especially with a man I had just had a fax/text row with. However, I had it in my head that instigating phone sex was just the olive branch I was looking for. It involved me stepping out of my comfort zone. And if there’s one thing that Simon loved more than people looking at the positive it was people stepping out of their comfort zones. In fact, I was quite prepared for the stepping out of the comfort zone part to get him going more than the phone sex. So I sat there on my bed covered in milky flannels, psyching myself up for some telephone loving.

  ‘Come on, Sarah, how hard can it be?’ I sighed to myself. ‘Oh, that’s it!’ I muttered. ‘I need to use words like “hard” but I should probably say, “Hhhhhaaaaarrd.”’

  I started to feel nervous. But then I reminded myself that I was an adult and an actor and I had done sex, so how haaaaaard could it be? Very hard, hopefully. Tee hee.

  ‘OK, let’s do it,’ I whispered as I dialled his number.

  ‘Baby.’

  ‘Hey,’ he sounded quiet and drained.

  ‘Sorry about, you know, all that stuff.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t you. It was me too.’

  A pause. I used it to try to contact my harlot alter ego.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I attempted to say it sexily.

  ‘Lying on the bed. Just played football.’

  Not exactly D. H. Lawrence. I needed to try harder.

  ‘Hmmm,’ I cooed like the caramel bunny. ‘Are you sweaty?’

  ‘Nah, I’ve just had a shower.’

  Oh, for God’s sake, it was like attempting to seduce a Pot Noodle.

  ‘So you’re clean, because I’m feeling very dirty.’ (I said it ‘diiiirrrty’.)

  ‘You are, as well!’ He finally started to sound more animated. ‘I couldn’t work out whether you were trying to talk sauce or you were practising to audition for a character who’s got learning difficulties or is inbred or something.’

  ‘Fuckster.’

  ‘And what are you doing?’ he said, clearly taking the piss out of my accent.

  ‘Lying on my bed . . .’ I considered saying, ‘. . . thinking about your cock,’ but it sounded so rude. I blushed and bottled it.

  ‘Hmmm. What are you wearing?’

  ‘Um, nothing,’ I said, peeling off the wet flannels. ‘You look beautiful.’

  I smiled. Then I looked down at my body. But my eyes met the acres of vivid red skin. Thankfully, I managed to stop myself from shrieking, ‘I look like raw liver! You freak!’

  ‘I might have to tie your hands up so I can pleasure you and you won’t distract me.’

  I glanced at my swollen, sunburnt wrists. I started to gurn. I hadn’t thought this through.

  ‘Hmmm. I’ve got some baby oil. I’m going to massage you.’

  My mouth opened in agony at the thought. But I did very well. I managed to suppress actual screams of pain as he talked me through all the red places he was kneading, stroking and tickling. Even when he took my knickers off, which in reality felt as though someone was shaving layers of my skin off with a cheese slicer, I kept quiet. I blocked out his words and imagined that I was lying face-down on an ice rink instead. It wasn’t very erotic. Phone sex was much more stressful than I’d thought. I suddenly felt exhausted.

  ‘You’re very quiet.’

  Oh arse, I’d forgotten to do sexy groaning.

  ‘You’re not normally so quiet.’

  I started to think of something wanton to say. But then I stopped.

  ‘We’ve never had phone sex before.’ My stomach lurched. ‘You’re getting me confused with Ruth!’

  ‘Sare!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not getting you confused with . . .’ – sigh – ‘Sare! I’
ve got an erection here.’

  ‘What do you mean, I’m “not normally quiet”?’

  ‘I meant when we normally do it,’ he sighed.

  ‘I’m not that noisy. But she was. I know she bloody was. Because I used to hear her!’ I felt sick. Sounds of Ruth’s screams and images of Simon and Ruth nakedly writhing exploded spectacularly in my head. For the briefest second I considered taking a deep breath or calming down. But the bad thoughts sodded that idea and I hung up. Then because I had no idea what else to do, I put on a wall hanging and the hoodie and I went to investigate the party.

  twenty

  I didn’t actually go into the party. I was too embarrassed by the ‘Carol Thatcher in the jungle’ look I was sporting. Instead, I texted Rachel Bird and she said she’d get me a martini and I should meet her on the terrace outside. I needed to check that Erin hadn’t been led astray by Rachel and wasn’t about to go dogging with some lady boys.

  It wasn’t quite that bad. But as soon as I joined her and Erin I regretted leaving them alone together. Rachel was animated. Erin was swaying. I learnt that:

  1 Rachel had got Erin drunk. She told her that the passion fruit martinis were non-alcoholic. Erin thought they were delicious and was by this point on her fifth

  2 Rachel was teaching Erin how to pull. Rachel teaching anyone to pull would be a fearsome concept. But I had a nasty suspicion that Rachel wouldn’t be satisfied until Erin’s preacher father discovered his daughter on the altar with a feral man between her legs

  ‘Nooooooo, noo, na, na, slower, that’s it, now you’re getting it.’ Erin was being taught how to seductively drink a drink with a straw. ‘That’s it, work it. Remember the mantra: if your light’s off, you won’t get a ride. Good . . . good. That’s it, keep it slow.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t get given a straw?’ I asked. It was a valid point.

  Rachel shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. So I shut up and watched Erin fellate a straw.

  ‘Well, obviously, she will do lots of hair and neck fiddling like we went through earlier, and then she should do this.’

  Rachel started circling her finger around the edge of her shiny lips. ‘It’s all about the lipgloss. Lots of lipgloss. So you circle the edge of your lips slowly, like this, and then just let the tip of your finger slip inside your mouth like this.’ Rachel started sucking on her finger. Now, Rachel is a dirty blonde with a husky voice who has a Bachelor of Bedroom Arts. When she gently sucked on her finger she looked like Christina Aguilera doing a lipstick commercial. When little Erin had a go it looked like she’d got a ring stuck on her finger and she was trying to get it off.

  ‘But the most important thing,’ said Rachel, wiping her dribbly finger on my wall-hanging skirt, ‘is to pretend that they are fascinating.’

  ‘Ahhhh, Rach, you can’t tell her that!’ I choked. ‘Thousands of years of patriarchal society and you give her “pretend they’re fascinating”?’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest?’

  ‘Being yourself.’

  ‘How long were you single, Sarah?’

  ‘Bitch.’

  ‘Never, under any circumstances, just be yourself,’ she said to Erin, and gave me an angry headmistress look and started to say something scolding. She was silenced by a loud, high-pitched female voice.

  ‘Are you the English girl?’

  Rachel and I both spun round. The ingratiating voice belonged to a malnourished-looking woman in one of those tops that only Keira Knightley can wear because it’s just a small bit of fabric draped over your boobs. She was looking at me.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m Chelsea,’ she screeched. I would have rather heard a symphony of knives on plates and nails down blackboards.

  ‘I’m Basildon,’ I said, and a little part of me died when I realized I had said a joke that bad out loud.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Really, really bad joke. Sorry.’

  ‘Huh?’ When she said, ‘Huh?’ it sounded like a tiny dog yapping, which was interesting because at that moment she decided to produce a small, rat-like creature out of her handbag and it started yapping. It had big ears and was wearing a green-and-pink stripy jumper.

  ‘Oh, Cleopatra,’ she said, kissing it. The dog continued to yap as she continued to smother the poor thing while repeating eloquent phrases like, ‘You love mumsy, moo,’ and ‘Mumsy loves pattie, poo.’ I suddenly understood why you are allowed to carry guns in America.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you a lot. You’re coming to meet my pop for voice classes.’

  Classes! Classes! As in plural. Miles Mavers didn’t mention more than one session to me.

  ‘Let’s go back inside, Cleopatra,’ she said to the dog, and without even acknowledging anyone with two legs, she stalked back to the party.

  ‘Oh bye, Chelsea, lovely to meet you,’ I shouted after her. No response.

  ‘Swallow, just swallow,’ Rachel was telling Erin, who was looking like she was about to retch. Erin obediently swallowed seven times, hesitated for a moment, then she started beaming again.

  ‘So, where were we?’

  ‘You were upsetting feminists everywhere.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, the most important bit of all. Act fascinated, don’t let your eyes deviate from them, do all that stuff with your hair and neck then your mouth and the straw. You’ll be on your knees in the disabled loo within half an hour.’

  I rolled my eyes again but Erin was still beaming.

  ‘Come on, let’s go back in and put it to the test.’ She gestured to Erin to follow her but Erin just swayed slightly. I didn’t like the situation at all. Erin had been kind to me and I wanted to get her away from Rach. But Rachel had also been kind to me and I didn’t want to upset her.

  ‘Rach, I should take Erin up to bed. She’s wasted.’ I turned to Erin and added quickly, ‘That’s no bad thing, sweetheart.’

  I pulled Rachel away from Erin and out of earshot.

  ‘Rach, she’s really nice,’ I said. ‘Can’t we just take her up to bed?’

  Rachel looked at me and pretended to sulk.

  ‘I’m just having a bit of fun.’

  ‘Rach,’ I paused here. ‘Please.’

  Rachel looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

  Suddenly there was a big commotion by the balcony door. It looked like Leo Clement was walking through it surrounded by about six women on their knees. A closer inspection showed that the women were all petting and fondling a dog. A proper-sized dog.

  ‘Oh, that’s another good one,’ said Rachel, viewing the scene. ‘Play with his dog, if he’s got a dog.’

  I looked at Leo Clement. I tried to remove my eyes from Leo Clement. It was impossible. He was wearing a suit jacket over a pale blue T-shirt. The T-shirt brings out the blue of his eyes, I thought. Leo Clement is so handsome you’ve started thinking ridiculous things like that, I thought after. He had on those jeans he wore for the flight. Everything looked creased as though he’d just picked it off his bedroom floor and his hair was all over the place like it had recently been ruffled in a sweaty bed. He started walking towards us. I managed to finally look away. Talk to Leo Clement as though he’s ugly, I told myself. Talk to him as though he is lovely, I tried again. UGLY! Sarah, listen! Talk to him as though he is ugly! I instructed myself. It was my only hope of not acting like a pillock.

  ‘Hey,’ said Leo Clement.

  ‘How are you, ugly?’

  I stood still in shock for a second. I wasn’t supposed to tell him he was ugly! Luckily, he laughed. Erin looked at Rachel and demonstrated that she should start alluringtactic number one: hair and neck fiddling. Erin caught on and began to yank an earring about while playing with her hair. If I didn’t know the game I would have said she had nits.

  ‘Boy,’ Leo shouted, and the dog ran over to him. The women stood up and dispersed. His dog nuzzled up to me and began to sniff the bottom of my wall hanging. I never know what to do with dogs. They normally sniff my bum and when I start to play
with them they just wander away so I feel like a plum.

  ‘Oh, oh,’ I said, feeling something moist on my toes. ‘Oh.’

  ‘He likes your toes, huh.’

  ‘Hmmm. Must be the fungus.’

  I spied Rachel Bird giving Erin a look that said ‘under no circumstances be yourself’. Erin responded by grinning and getting faster with the neck fondling.

  We all stood in silence for a moment, me guiltily enjoying the toe-licking. Luckily, a canapé lady appeared carrying a tray of something. Leo and I reached down for one.

  ‘They’re hot,’ said the waitress. ‘Spicy.’

  I took a bite.

  ‘Oooh yeah. You’ll feel that on the loo tomorrow,’ I panted.

  It just came out. Rachel gave Erin another look but Erin’s head was at a funny angle. Her ear was nearly on her shoulder. Leo took a step forward.

  ‘I think it’s caught in her hair. The earring.’

  I moved to have a look too, but Rachel gestured for me to stay where I was. Rachel looked on proudly as Leo tenderly took hold of Erin’s neck and inspected her ear.

  ‘It’s a mess. I don’t want to pull it. Step into the light. Here.’ He led the swaying Erin towards the outside light. I noticed how gentle he was for someone so strong. And he really did seem concerned about her hair. ‘I might need to cut it.’

  I gazed at them, thinking what a ridiculously beautiful couple they made, until Rachel barked at me.

  ‘Sarah, go and get some scissors.’

  ‘Why me? I’ve got half a mile of ethnic rug wrapped round my lower half,’ I humphed.

  Rachel ignored me and kept her eye on Erin and Leo. I removed my feet from the dog’s tongue and started my geisha slow step to find some bloody scissors somewhere.

  twenty-one

  After we extricated Erin I took her up to her room and helped her get changed. Then I went to bed myself. I had a horrible night.

  There is one thing in life that I am really good at. Sleeping. I am peculiarly proficient at it. I’ve spent my life embracing sleep and sleep has always responded by warmly snuggling me back. It’s been a beautiful relationship. I can sleep anytime, anyplace, anywhere. I can snooze for five hours straight. I have an impressive sleeping CV. I fell asleep during my oldest friend’s wedding. I fell asleep during a Geography GCSE. But that night, sleep buggered off without telling me.