by T L Swan
“Cam’s too lazy to walk back so we have to meet him at the door.” We nod and join the queue to get out. Ten minutes later I have a tipsy friend on either side of me linking my arms as we head towards the exit. Abbie is still going on about banging Mr Italy and asking Will to go and find him to tell him the mother of his children is waiting for him, presuming that’s her. Will is very wisely declining to do it, although he is finding it quite funny.
“I thought you were the mother of my children,” he says as he elbows her in the stomach.
“Hell no,” she replies. “I’m way, way, way, way,” she moves her hand around in the air “too hot for you,” and she pokes him in the chest. Abbie and I are in fits of giggles. She really does know how to take my mind off things. Cameron joins us from the left and Bridget grabs his arm to link with hers, then we walk a little bit further before Cam stops and turns around.
“What are you doing?” he yells out. We all turn at once to see who he is talking to. Joshua is standing still in the middle of the crowd, glaring at us. He is in faded blue jeans and a white T–shirt and has an exercise bag with the strap across his body on one shoulder. Perspiration is still beading on his forehead, a side effect from the exertion of the fight. He takes a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. The veins in his forearms are pumping, no doubt from the adrenaline in his system. My mouth goes dry. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? His piercing blue eyes bore into me and he has a slight sheen of perspiration all over his skin, adding to the whole alluring effect. Damn it. He is radiating anger and glares at Cam as he storms past us.
“What’s wrong with you?” Cam asks. He turns to talk to Cam, but speaks directly to me.
“What in the fuck is she doing here?”
Will steps in front of me. “Stop being a prick, Josh. She’s here with us.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I turn and start storming to the cab rank. I have never been so humiliated. Abbie and Bridget scuttle after me, both of the boys staying with Josh.
“You’re not to hang with her, I told you that.” I stop and turn. That’s it. My blood has boiled. Who in the hell does this guy think he is? Master of the universe. I will not take one more fucking minute of his shit. I storm back to where he is standing and push him hard in the chest.
“What is your problem?” I yell, and he staggers back.
“You are actually!” he yells back.
I scowl. “Who in the fuck are you, and what have you done with my Josh?” I scream.
He comes up really close to my face and yells. “He isn’t your Josh.”
“No, I know he isn’t. This version is a giant, aggressive, stripper–groping prick who I can’t stand the sight of.” Everyone falls silent.
“Burned,” Will giggles. Josh and I both look at him and yell “Shut up,” in perfect timing.
“Stripper–groping,” he repeats. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Natasha, leave it,” Bridget steps in. “Let’s go.” She can see this is about to get ugly, really ugly.
“I mean, asshole,” I scream in his face, “I was at the strip club last week, and I saw your little display with the blonde whore. How was the threesome?” He narrows his eyes and steps back as he weighs up my words.
“What, are you spying on me now?” he sneers.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I scream. “It seems to me you are spying on me. What’s with the nightclub caveman act, Josh? Why in the hell did you hit Todd like that?”
He stops still and stays deathly silent.
“Todd, is it?” he sneers. I don’t answer. Ok, that was the wrong thing to say.
“So Todd is the poor bastard you’re currently fucking is he? I thought as much.”
Cameron steps in, “Josh, just go home. You’re being a dick.”
“Fuck off, Cameron. I’m talking to Natasha—this is a private conversation,” his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He leans in to my face. “You can go and tell your little friend Todd that if I see him again I’m going to beat the living shit out of him. I hope you were worth it.”
“Fuck off Josh, I’m not seeing him. You’re acting crazy. I’ve a good mind to get you sectioned.”
He fumes. “Oh yes, I bet your little fuck buddy from work would love that too.”
“What so, I’m fucking everybody in Sydney now am I? You idiot,” I yell.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he yells and, that’s it, I snap. That is the last straw—I no longer have any control. I slap him hard across the face, the sound echoing back as it hits the buildings on either side of us. He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me, his fury erupting as mine has. The others quickly step in and break us up, pushing us apart. I glare at him and he glares at me.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” I yell.
He folds his arms. “Now, who’s flattering themselves, you couldn’t pay me enough to touch you.” I don’t know why I’m shocked he just said that, but I am.
I shake my head at him. “Nice Josh, nice. You must be so proud of the person you’ve turned into. You were a lot nicer when you were poor. What a mean pretentious prick you’ve turned into.” I turn and storm off. In the distance I can hear Cam and Will giving Josh a hard time about what he has said to me. The girls quickly catch up and we join the cab line. We hear Cam yell out, “Sorry girls,” as they get into the back of a limo waiting outside the arena for them. It drives off. We all stay silent for a few minutes.
“That went well,” Abbie smiles. “Isn’t it a shame he can talk—he’s so pretty with his mouth closed.” We all burst out laughing.
“Seriously Abbs, I love you” I smile.
I’m warm and crumpled and sleepy, my eyes refusing to open. Why is she so frigging early? My doorbell buzzes again. “Go away, I’m too tired,” I mumble into my pillow. BUZZZ BUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZ, BZ, BZ, BZ, BZ. It’s still pitch black in my bedroom—those expensive drapes were worth every cent. It buzzes again. For Pete’s sake. Alright. I pull my weary ass out of bed and stagger to the foyer. I hit the door button to unlock my front door as I head to the bathroom for my morning wee. I hear Bridget come in and I instantly yell to her
“Why are you up so early? Did you wet the bed? Make me some coffee, bitch, and you can forget it. I’m not going to Mum and Dad’s this morning.” I look at my watch on the bathroom vanity. “Bridget, it’s only 7.30 am. Have you gone frigging mad?” I know why she’s here so early. She thinks I’m a donkey on the edge and, to be honest, she could be onto something. I feel scattered. She doesn’t reply. I hear the teaspoon hit three times on the side of the coffee cup. I waltz out of my bathroom while stretching and yawning. I feel like shit. I open my eyes from my stretch to see Joshua standing in my lounge room with two cups of coffee. What the.
“Joshua…what are you doing here?” He looks me up and down and smirks.
“Nice pjs.” Oh my fuck. I look down to realise I am wearing odd flannelette pyjamas. Check bottoms and Bunny top and to cap off the whole alluring look the buttons are done up in the wrong button holes. I scratch my head in embarrassment, only to feel my hair standing up on end like the Paddle–pop Lion. I bet I have raccoon mascara eyes too. I must look a treat. I’m too busy being mortified and self–conscious to remember how mad I am at him. I stay silent, waiting for him to say something, while praying for the earth to swallow me up.
“Um,” he shuffles on his feet and passes me my coffee.
“Thanks,” I whisper as I take it. He takes a sip while carefully choosing his words.
“I…I just came to apologise for last night.” I stay silent.
“What exactly are you apologising for?” I ask as I raise my eyebrows.
He thinks about his answer as he rubs his chin. “The insinuations,” he drops his head in shame.
“The insinuation I’m a whore,” I whisper.
He hangs his head. “Yes.”
I sit down and gesture for him to sit down, but he stays standing. “Josh, why are you so angry with m
e?”
“I’m not.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you going to continue to lie to me?”
He narrows his eyes. “Stay the hell out of my head, Natasha. I didn’t come here to be psychoanalysed.”
“What did you come here for?”
“I told you, to apologise.”
“Is that for my benefit or your conscience?”
“Stop it, you’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” I snap.
“The psychology shit,” he frowns. “Just forget it.” He puts his coffee down on my table so fast it spills. “I knew there was no point.”
Oh shit, he’s going. I have to stop him.
“Josh wait, I’m sorry. I’m just really mad at you.” He stops and turns.
“For what?” He puts his head on an angle.
“I saw you last week at the strip joint.” He rubs his chin again, ah my first sign he’s uncomfortable. I’m really not playing fair—I’m totally psychoanalysing him.
“Tash, what were you doing there?” His voice has gone soft, cajoling.
I look at the ground in embarrassment. “We were there to spy on Bridget’s boyfriend, never in a million years did I think I would see you.” He nods as he listens. I stay silent, trying to gather in my head what to say next.
“Natasha, I’m single,” he murmurs.
“I know.” I’m starting to feel emotional. Cut it out, crybaby. “Would you have gone up the stairs if you had known I was there?”
“You know I wouldn’t have,” he says gently.
“Josh, I can’t handle you being so aggressive towards me.”
He nods. “Me neither. I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a prick.”
I smile and he smirks back in return.
“You have. You can take me out to breakfast to apologise if you want.”
He frowns as he looks me up and down. “I might just take you pyjama shopping too.”
“What’s wrong with my pyjamas?” I smirk.
“Nothing if you live in a nursing home.” He does wide eyes to accentuate his point.
“Give me ten minutes,” I smile. He nods and flops onto the couch.
Ten minutes later I am showered and in my room hyperventilating about what I am going to wear. Alluring and sexy without trying hard is a fine line, one that I have to execute to perfection. Shit, where are my favourite jeans? Damn it, in the dirty washing basket. It doesn’t pay to be lazy. I settle on a pair of faded worn blue jeans, a slouchy white T–shirt that hangs off one shoulder, white thongs and a wad of chunky gold bangles. My chocolate–brown layered hair that is midway between my shoulders and elbows is loose and my makeup is natural.
“Ready?” I ask as I head into the lounge room where he is waiting. He smiles and nods. His eyes scan me up and down, his jaw ticks and he gently cracks his neck. Hmm. As he stands my heart jumps a beat. Dear god, he really is divine. He is wearing dark green army–style cargo pants and a black slimfit plain T–shirt with a V–neck. I can see every damn muscle in his arms. His big blue eyes lock onto mine and I feel it impossible to look away. The sexual energy beaming from his body is demanding attention from mine. His dark tanned skin and square jaw only highlight his big beestung lips. Everything about him is silently screaming sex to my body. My stomach flutters with nerves. How in the hell am I going to get through breakfast without jumping him? Bridget is right—he does smell fucking awesome. I made myself a promise years ago, that if I ever had a chance to spend time with Joshua again, I would be nothing but totally honest. Can I really do this? Never again in my life am I going through the disappointment in myself for lying to him. I couldn’t bear it. He smiles.
“Let’s go then.”
“I’m nervous, Josh.”
He stops and turns to me. “Nervous,” he repeats on a frown. I nod again. “What about?” he gently asks.
“Do you think we still have anything in common?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I think it’s pretty obvious we both have hot tempers.”
I smile. “Yes.”
“And I’m hungry and tired because I didn’t sleep much last night,” he smiles.
“Me too,” I whisper.
He holds up his arm for me to take.“I think that’s a good start don’t you?”
I nod and link my arm with his.
“Let’s go.” I smile. I feel better already. His eyes twinkle as he gives me a warm smile, one that could melt the whole of Antarctica, and I instantly feel at ease. The unseen tension has immediately disappeared and we have both noticeably relaxed. Honesty. He wants honesty. As soon as I told him I was nervous the tension disappeared. I need to remember this for future reference. We head down the stairs.
“How long have you owned the apartment?”
“Um, about six months I guess,” I answer.
“It’s a nice place.” His eyes wander around the cream room with high ceilings. The large taupe lounge wraps around in a horseshoe shape. A huge cane pendant light hangs low over the industrial coffee table and thick pile rug. “You have good taste.”
“Thanks,” I smile nervously at him.
Half an hour later we are arriving at my favourite café, waiting to be seated by one of the waitresses. I can’t help but notice the amount of attention Joshua gets from the female population. Every woman is taking a double look at him but he doesn’t even seem to notice. I’m sure he is used to this. I, however, am finding it a little annoying. I suppose it’s not every day you see a six foot four muscled–up man whose chiselled jaw, olive skin and chocolate buzz–cut hair screams Do Me. A pretty redhead shows us to our seat.
“Would you like to order some drinks?” She looks from me to him and back again.
“Yes I’ll have a tall latte, double shot,” he smiles.
“I’ll have a skim cap please.” She scribbles on her pad and leaves us alone.
He rests his elbows on the table and links his hands together under his chin, waiting for me to speak first. His eyes have a mischievous glow to them.
“So Josh, tell me about your life?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”
“I hear you’re wealthy.”
He smiles, “In some things.”
I tilt my head on the side, “What do you mean?”
“Well, I have money. It depends on your definition of wealthy.”
“Oh, I suppose. What’s your definition?” I ask, surprised.
He shrugs again. “Happily married, healthy kids.”
Smiling, I rest my chin on one hand while I find myself swooning at his feet. “Are you dating?” I ask.
He scrunches up his nose, “Hell no.” Our drinks arrive and the waitress’s eyes linger a little long on Mr Orgasmic here. I narrow my eyes at her. Ok, enough, buzz off.
“You,” I frown.
“Huh.”
“Are you dating?” I ask .
“No, nothing like that. Mum told me you had a boyfriend.”
I nod a little embarrassed. “Um ex–boyfriend,” I murmur.
“What happened? Why did you break up?”
I shrug. He smiles, “I see you’re still a shit liar.”
“I hoped you hadn’t heard about that,” I wince.
“What? Heard that some poor bastard asked you to marry him and you knocked him back and then dumped his sorry ass?”
I put my hands over my face in embarrassment. “It sounds cold when you put it like that.” I peek out from my hands to see him smirking at me.
“What happened?”
“We were never going to work out. I have never been so shocked in my life as the day he proposed. It was awful.” His thumb is under his chin and he is wiping the side of his pointer across his lips as he listens while leaning back in his chair, his gaze locked onto mine.
“Why wouldn’t you have worked out?”
“We weren’t…compatible.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Compatible,” he repeats. Why did I say that? �
�You mean sexually?” His eyes darken with an emotion I’m familiar with. Arousal.
“Among other things,” I quickly add. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. “Why aren’t you married?” I blurt out.
He smiles a slow sexy smile. “I haven’t found anyone who fits the job description.”
“What’s the job description?” I breathe. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that heats my blood.
“Someone who fucks like a slut, with the morals of a nun.” I choke on my tea. Of all the things I thought he would say, that was definitely not it. I feel a familiar frisson of uneasiness creeping up on me.
“You can’t be serious?” I gasp.
“Absolutely,” he nods as he takes a sip of his latte, his eyes not leaving mine.
“You want to marry a slut?”
He nods again. “It depends what your definition of a slut is. What do you think a slut is?” he asks.
“Someone who will sleep with anyone,” I reply.
He nods and takes another sip of his latte. “You see I think a slut is a woman who loves to fuck.” I swallow the large lump in my throat. His voice has dropped to a low husky sound, one that is screaming to my subconscious. He continues, “I couldn’t be with a mousy woman who doesn’t love to fuck as much as I do. I have an insatiable appetite for sex,” he licks his lips. “High maintenance so to speak.” His eyes burn into me once again, silently daring me to say something. His eyes drop to my lips. Want pools in my stomach. “The woman I marry will have to endure hours and hours of being tied up to our bed, legs spread wide while I pleasure her with my tongue and fuck her with my hands and then put up with me continually driving into her tight cunt with my cock so hard she won’t know where I end and she begins. Only to be rolled over and taken again from behind. Constantly. She would have to love taking me orally and vaginally and anally…Repeatedly.” He gazes at me again and steeples his hands under his chin. For the love of god, my mouth has gone dry.
“Can I take your order, love?” I jump, oh shit did she just hear that?
“Um, bacon and eggs please, and an orange juice.” I am embarrassed and put my head down to hide my blush.
