Limp Dicks & Saggy Tits

by Tracie Podger

  “I think I do need to move off this conversation and onto safer ground,” I said, laughing more with embarrassment than humour.

  I vaguely remembered a time back in the day when I’d go out with Harry, and we knew we’d be at it like rabbits before we even got in the front door, and it was exciting. I wondered why I didn’t have that level of excitement. It was fear that had started to run through me. I remembered the nurse and the lubricant comment, how I’d shaved all my hair, and now I had nothing more than stubble. What if I needed to pee? I felt my hands start to shake.

  “Let’s order, shall we?” he said. “And, Lizzie, nothing needs to happen at all.”

  I gave him my order of steak and chunky chips with a side salad, and he opted for the same. I watched him at the bar—how casual and friendly he was while he placed our order. Regardless of how off he had been with me over Demi’s photograph, he was a very personable man. It seemed that he could talk to anyone. I texted Joe:

  Help. I’m going to have sex, and I’m bloody terrified!

  His reply was super quick

  You’re about to have sex? What, right now? Get off the fucking phone and get to it ha ha. Seriously, what are you terrified about? And I’m assuming you’re consenting to the sex, of course. If you’re not just reply with an X, and I’ll call the police!

  I replied:

  Of course I’m consenting. I don’t know. It’s been a while!

  Oh, babe. You’ll be fine. Trust me. Who are you with anyway?

  I couldn’t remember if I’d told him that Ronan had returned or not. We’d both been so busy the past couple of days that we hadn’t caught up, so there was no time like the present:

  Ronan. I’m in the pub near my new house. He lives just a couple of miles away.

  Joe:

  I know. That’s why I thought it would be nice to show you those properties. Just call me Cupid. Now get off the phone and go and have fun xxx

  I didn’t answer him, and I wasn’t sure if, yet again, his interference was welcomed or not. He had always been the master manipulator, but I hadn’t fallen for it in the past. Perhaps, subconsciously, I wanted his interference. I shook my head and sighed as I replaced my phone.

  “Is that sigh something I should be worried about?” I looked up to see Ronan standing beside me. He held out his hand. “We can sit at our table.”

  “No, I just texted Joe. Did you know that he deliberately showed me those cottages so that we would live close?”

  Ronan frowned and then laughed. “No, I didn’t. Playing at matchmaker was he?”

  “I guess so.” I gathered my bag and took his hand. I was going to chill, relax, not overthink anything, and just enjoy his company.

  I tried, I really did. I ate my meal, we talked, and we laughed as he told me some funny stories from his renovation projects. We drank coffee, and then he paid, refusing my offer of half the bill. He took my hand, and that’s when I quietened. I don’t think I spoke on the journey back to his cottage at all.

  He parked the car, and for a moment, we just sat.

  “Nothing needs to happen, Lizzie,” he whispered.

  “I know. Can we go in, please?”

  He opened his door, and I waited until he’d done the same to mine. Yet again, he took my hand, and we walked into the cottage. He didn’t stop—he continued straight up the stairs and to his bedroom. He stood in front of me, in silence, and he stared. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, and I found myself mirroring that. He placed a hand on the side of my head, and his fingers threaded through my hair. I watched his tongue gently wet his lower lip, and that was it for me.

  My stomach clenched, and I could feel my clitoris throb. I took the step forward, as I reached up to place my arms around his neck, and I kissed him. I led all the way. Which, I guess, was what he’d been waiting for.

  His hand tightened in my hair, and he pressed his body into mine. His other arm wrapped around me, holding me tight. A feeling of security, of belonging, washed over me. I wanted to shed a tear and kick myself for being worried. Everything we did was in sync, our heartbeats, our breaths, even when we changed head position. It all flowed as if we were just meant to be.

  When he pulled his head away, I missed the sensation of his tongue, his lips covering mine. I missed his taste and the sound of him dragging in air through his nose.

  He reached to the buttons of my shirt and undid them, but before he slid my shirt from my shoulders, he looked at me with a slight frown. I nodded, and he gently smiled. I undid the button and zipper of my jeans wriggling them past my hips until they fell to the floor. I continued to undress myself until I was, once again, standing naked in front of him. I watched as he scanned my body before pulling off his T-shirt and slipping out of his jeans himself.

  When he picked me up and laid me on the bed, then climbed on beside me, all earlier nerves vaporised. I was completely in the moment with him. He did exactly what he’d promised. He took it slowly—he kissed every inch of my body, stroked and pleasured me in ways I’d never been pleasured before, and I realised something. No one had ever made love to me before. Harry’s lies, his deceit, had always held him back from giving me what Ronan had.

  And as for not having an orgasm for ten years? I made up for it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I turned as sunlight hit my closed eyelids. I could feel Ronan in the bed beside me, and I smiled as I recalled the previous evening. I wasn’t sure of the time, but the light streaming in through the window was enough to tell me it had probably gone past the time I’d normally surface.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I heard, and I finally opened my eyes. Ronan was lying on his side, facing me.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Just gone eight. It’s still early.”

  I stretched, surprised at the ache I felt. “I think I might exchange Pilates for sex,” I said.

  “As long as I get to be teacher,” he replied, laughing.

  “Teacher? Do you think I need lessons?” A moment of panic washed over me.

  He rolled his eyes and placed a kiss on my nose. “No, far from it. I just meant you have a teacher in Pilates…it was a joke.”

  “I ache a little.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  I wanted to kiss him, but I was also conscious of where my, and his for that matter, mouth had been. I wasn’t sure it would be the most pleasant of morning breath.

  “Shall I make you a cup of tea?” I asked.

  “You’re my guest. Wait here.”

  I watched as he climbed from the bed in all his naked glory and left the room. He returned ten minutes later with two cups, one in each hand. He placed one on his bedside table and one on mine. I shuffled into a sitting position and reached for it while he climbed back under the duvet.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, as I sipped my tea.

  I smiled at him. “I’m better than okay, although I’m also sad.”

  He looked a little alarmed. “Why?”

  “Because what you did, we did, was amazing, and I realised, some of what I felt…well, that was a first for me. I guess, I’m not explaining this very well at all, but I think that was the first time someone actually made love to me. I don’t know if you understand what I mean or not.”

  I felt a tear leave the corner of my eye and quickly swiped it away.

  His gaze was filled with such sincerity. “I think I do, and I’m sorry that it’s taken this long for you to feel that. I’m also honoured and flattered that it was me.”

  There was such openness and honesty in his words and expression. I could have fallen further in love with him there and then, knowing that would have been a stupid idea. I suppressed it. Ronan wasn’t looking for love—I got that. I assumed we had a relationship of sorts, though.

  What did the youngsters call it? Hooking up? That wasn’t for me. I wasn’t up for sex without dinner or a movie. I knew that much. Joe had many a fuck-buddy, and I’d shake my head at that becau
se I knew, no matter what he’d said, he was also looking for love.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Nothing, honestly. I don’t know if enjoyed is the right word, but I really enjoyed last night.” I laughed to shake the melancholy from me. “Maybe it’s just post-sex blues. Is there such a thing?” I asked.

  “I have no idea, but I know a cure for it.”

  He took the cup from my hand and pulled me to him. I didn’t care that I, or he, hadn’t cleaned our teeth. I didn’t care that my hooha probably had a slight odour of latex from the condom he’d used. I cared only what his hands, his fingers, and his tongue were doing as he slid under the covers, grabbed my hips, and pulled me down.

  I let go of all my inhibitions, and I screamed out his name. I took pleasure, and I didn’t feel selfish about it. I instigated, took charge, told him what I wanted, and when. I submitted and followed his requests. I came alive under his touch.

  I felt, I smelled, I tasted.

  I dared to dream that I could have this, him, for a while at least.

  The bath water was cooling when I climbed out. I felt a little sore between my legs, and when I stood in front of the full-length mirror, I gasped.

  “You bastard,” I whispered, and then giggled.

  Just above my hooha was a bite mark, a love bite right on my fanny. I checked my neck and any obvious places to make sure I was clear of his branding. I dressed and then joined him downstairs. I didn’t mention the love bite. I wasn’t sure I wanted reminding of it myself. Ronan had laid out some toast, jam, and marmalade. He held his mobile to his ear, and he smiled when he saw me. His wet hair was standing up in all directions. He’d showered earlier and run a towel over his head. He wore trousers but was yet to put on his shirt. My eyes widened when he turned, and I saw the claw marks down his back.

  I inspected my nails to be sure there was no sign of evidence. The last thing I wanted was to eat my toast and have his skin sticking to it. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that. I’d sucked his cock—I was sure a little of his back skin in my mouth wasn’t anywhere near as bad. I could feel myself colouring at the thought of what I’d done. I slathered on some marmalade for something to do and to have my brain return to safe ground.

  “That’s great news, Mrs Sharpe. No, you don’t need to worry about the invoice, I’ll sort it out with Pete first, then I’ll come and see you about it another day.”

  He was leaning against the kitchen counter watching me. “That’s okay, okay, speak soon,” he said, then disconnected the call. “Her boiler was repaired this morning.”

  “That’s good, was she happy?” I asked as he came to sit beside me.

  “More than. Now, do we need to arrange an appointment with this Dave fella?”

  “I emailed him yesterday, he said to give him a call when we’re half an hour away, and he’ll be there,” I said.

  I wanted to say more, but Ronan had picked up my hand and sucked one of my fingers into his mouth. He then licked the remaining marmalade from a second finger. I hadn’t realised I’d spilled any.

  I watched with amusement. “Remind me to cover myself in this if that’s what happens with a small spillage.”

  “Mmm, food play, I like the sound of that,” he replied with a minuscule upwards flick of his brows.

  I coughed, choking a little on some toast that hadn’t quite been swallowed. I sipped my tea as he patted my back and laughed.

  He kissed my temple and then rose. I watched him pull on the white shirt that hung over the back of a chair—he buttoned it, undid his trousers, and I was aware he hadn’t worn boxers to tuck it in. He rolled up the sleeves a little before he placed a waistcoat over it.

  While he cleared the dishes, I rushed back upstairs to clean my teeth and gather my overnight bag. I’d already stripped the bed, despite Ronan’s protests that he could do it when he returned, and I looked longingly at it as I passed. I was back down as he was tying his shoelaces. He took the bag from me, and we left the cottage.

  “How long will it take us to get to Soho?” I asked as he punched in the address to his satnav.

  “Just over an hour, according to this. I haven’t driven to Soho in years, so I’ve no idea if that’s accurate.”

  He backed from the driveway, and we started the journey. I enjoyed my time with Ronan while he was driving to Scotland, and I enjoyed my time while we were on the motorway to London. I didn’t enjoy the way he morphed from calm and in control, to something that resembled a black cab driver. He flipped the finger at tooting horns, even when he was in the wrong lane. He pulled out into traffic when he shouldn’t have, and he dared a lorry to take out the side of his rather nice Range Rover when he was in a bus lane, illegally.

  “City driving isn’t your thing, is it?” I asked when we eventually pulled up on yellow lines outside the gallery.

  “Can you tell?”

  “There was a hint every now and again, more so when you called someone a fuckwit,” I said.

  Ronan laughed. “I’m sorry. I haven’t driven in town for such a long time. But we made it in one piece.”

  “Just about!”

  Dave was standing at the front door, and I wondered if we were going to have a fashion-off. He, too, wore a shirt—although his sleeves were not rolled up—and a waistcoat. He had added a bow tie to his, whereas Ronan had his collar undone. Both wore the same coloured trousers. He waved when he saw me, and I climbed from the car, narrowly avoiding a dick on a pushbike who gave me the finger as he wobbled past on the wrong side of the road.

  I introduced Ronan to Dave, and they shook hands. I let them walk to the back of the car where they unloaded some poorly wrapped pictures. I could see Dave wincing at the sight of loose bubble wrap and newspaper dividing the paintings. They were carried in and placed on the pasting table.

  Dave did the same things he did when I first met him. He tapped his lips, walked around, back and forth, contemplating. He then decided he wanted them all. Paperwork was exchanged and despite Dave’s attempts at keeping us there for a celebratory drink, he was told that we had important business back in Scotland that needed our urgent attention. We were back in the car an hour after parking, with a ticket to add to a collection I could see in the glove box.

  “You do pay those, don’t you?” I asked.

  He grinned. “Of course I do, I think.”

  I shook my head. I’d make a point to get them from the car and check. “Now, your apartment?” he said.

  “Yes, okay.” I wasn’t sure that I’d said I would accompany him back to Scotland but, I had no plans until the sale of the barn went through, so no reason to hang around.

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you,” I said, I then proceeded to tell him about Pat the cat being real. “I also feel a little sorry for Danny. He’s about to lose his job, which means he’ll have to move.”

  “Didn’t you say he was rude to you on more than one occasion?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t feel sorry for him,” I said, as we approached the building.

  Ronan parked, and we headed in. We were halfway up the stairs when Danny came through the door from our floor.

  “Lizzie! It’s good to see you. I have a huge favour to ask,” he said, as he bounded down the stairs.

  He completely ignored Ronan who placed his arm around my shoulders. He stood and smiled at me.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “What’s the favour you need to ask?”

  “Oh, right, yes. I just wondered if you’d give Mrs Dingle my flat key. She’s going to look after Pat because I have a job interview in Manchester. I’ll be away overnight. She’s not in.”

  “Why don’t you put the key through her letterbox?” Ronan asked.

  “Because…” Danny rolled his eyes dramatically, and I bristled. “She nailed shut her letterbox because she was sick of getting everyone’s post.”

  I knew that, on occasions, the postman couldn’t be arsed
to walk to our flats, so left everything in the hallway, but I wasn’t aware that she’d been receiving it all.

  “I’m going to be leaving for Scotland shortly,” I said.

  “I called Mrs Dingle. She’s on her way back, but I’ll miss my train if I don’t go now.”

  “How long is she going to be?” I asked.

  “Twenty minutes, max, she said.”

  I held out my hand, it would take that time to get packed, and Danny dropped his key into my palm.

  He gave me a smile. “Thanks, Lizzie,” he said and then continued to bound down the stairs.

  Ronan stared at me. “What?” I said.

  “You’re too nice sometimes.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe I am, but I’d rather be nice than not,” I said, with a smile.

  We continued to walk to my flat door. “By the time I pack, she should be back. Now, how long am I likely to be with you?”

  “As long as you like,” he replied as we entered, and my heart fluttered a little.

  Ronan emptied the fridge of any perishables for me. He filled the bin bag and walked it to the bin store while I packed a suitcase. I remembered how unprepared I was the last time with the weather, and we were another couple of weeks towards winter. I packed what I thought would be suitable and added an extra couple of jumpers. When I sat on the suitcase to squash it enough to be able to zip it up, I realised, with the holdall I’d filled, I’d nearly emptied my wardrobe. I grabbed my diary to check what hair appointments I’d need to cancel. I thought I’d find one locally to Ronan. I dragged the suitcase to the hallway and returned for the holdall.

  As I walked into the bedroom, I felt an arm grab me from behind. I squealed as I was pulled backwards and laughed as I fell onto the bed.

  “Ooof!” Ronan exaggerated his pain as I landed on him.

  “Aw, did I hurt you?” I said, wriggling so that I was lying on top of him.

  He wrapped his arms around me. “I have a feeling you might,” he said quietly.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. I didn’t reply. Instead, I just kissed him.

  I rested my head on his shoulder and felt such contentment. The knot that niggled constantly in my shoulder seemed to have melted away—the ache I used to feel in my lower back had been forgotten about. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed myself up.