Nonetheless, I plumped up the pillow and turned on to my side, still feeling giddy. 100% the most erotic thing that had happened in ages. Pam Potter – you are a Queen.
Thursday February 16th
At lunch today I told Lucy all about my progress with Oliver; the kitchen, the text exchanges – everything. She listened intently while stuffing her face with a baked potato.
‘I cannot believe you didn’t fuck him,’ she said, quite impressed. ‘Or even slip the tip in. Honestly, that takes a certain level of restraint that I just don’t have. I’ve got a tingle just thinking about that.’
I laughed. ‘Molly interrupted us anyway. And you’re really not supposed to get turned on by me and Oliver. That’s weird.’
‘Not you. Just him,’ she replied, smirking. ‘Before you guys got together, I had many an impure thought about that big Irish man.’ She started to blush, unusual for Lucy.
‘Lucy Jacobs, are you telling me you fancied my boyfriend?’
‘Shut up,’ she dismissed. ‘I was just messing.’
For a split second, I considered telling her about the dream I’d had about Kyle. How he’d kept his glasses on. How he’d licked my neck. But if she went into detail about what she’s imagined doing to Oliver, I might think she still harboured secret feelings for him. It’s ridiculous but I couldn’t guarantee I’d be rational, so why would she be?
What did you do Valentine’s Day?’ I asked, trying to steer the conversation back towards her own boyfriend.
‘We had dinner at Red Onion,’ Lucy replied. ‘Amazing risotto.’
I cringed. ‘Oh god, I haven’t been back there since I had that atrocious date with the guy I met online. The one who was hung up about his weight, remember? Ugh, I’d forgotten about that until now.’
Lucy started sniggering. She was the one who convinced me that Internet dating was a great idea when it was possibly the worst idea since Brexit. ‘You should go back again and create a happy memory there,’ she replied. ‘Take Molly. She’ll probably be bettered behaved than he was.’
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you!’ I exclaimed. ‘Remember I had that meeting at Downtime? Turns out the manager is some guy I shagged years ago.’
‘Oh shite. Was it awkward? What did he say?’
‘It was awful.’ I flopped my head on to the table, narrowly missing my soup. ‘He didn’t remember me. How humiliating.’
Lucy moved my soup bowl and laughed. ‘No one can remember everyone they’ve slept with, silly. It’s a good thing! You can do business without both of you constantly remembering that he’s been up you.’
I nodded, my head hanging off the desk.
‘I don’t know why you’re bothered anyway,’ she continued. ‘Random shags mean nothing. We’ve all had unmemorable ones. Go home and be with your stupidly lovely family. At least they’re likely to remember who the fuck you are.’
Friday February 17th
Hazel came round at lunchtime with carrot cake and some of Grace’s clothes that she’d outgrown, which I gratefully accepted. I always find it bizarre that people buy designer clothes for their kids when they’ve already grown out of them by the time they leave the shop. Molly is already wearing age 6 clothes on account of her being a giant.
‘I think I’m going to get my face resurfaced,’ Hazel announced while I made coffee. ‘There’s a clinic doing a deal at the moment, I went to an open night. £500.’
‘Resurfaced? Oh God, you’re not going to get one of those laser jobs where you have to hide indoors for a week and your face literally sheds right off the bone? Are you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s like tiny needles that shoot radio waves or fucking gamma rays into your skin – something like that. I was too busy looking at the before and after photos to listen properly. To be honest, if it makes me look refreshed, they can do what they want.’
Hazel has always had hang ups about ageing. Years of sun worshipping hasn’t helped, but she’s nowhere near as haggard as she implies. She’s a very beautiful, elegant-looking woman. I’m lucky that I haven’t begun to wrinkle yet, but I put that down to having oily skin which never gets a chance to dry out.
‘So tell me,’ she continued, cutting into the cake she brought, ‘how is the therapy going? I must say, it’s a very different approach to what we were offered. Ours was mostly talking and learning to appreciate each other again. Lots of learning to reconnect as individuals and not just as a couple. All very wanky but it seemed to do the trick.’
‘Yeah, Pam is unusual, but that’s why I’ve been going to her for so long. She seems to get me. Oliver says it takes an oddball to understand an oddball. I think he secretly likes her. But the abstinence part is going well – Oliver’s a walking hard-on.’
She laughed. ‘And you?’
‘Don’t ask,’ I replied. ‘I had to go for a walk yesterday to stop me humping the furniture.’
‘Jesus. How long to go now?’
‘One week,’ I replied, blowing on my coffee. ‘You’re still taking Molly on the Friday night, right? There’s no way she can be around when I pounce on him.’
‘Yup, I have a movie night planned. And I’ll bring her back late afternoon so you can sleep in . . . or have more sex. Whatever.’
I fucking love my friends.
Saturday February 18th
I think we did ‘frottage’. I’m not even entirely sure that’s a word but we did rubbing. Fully clothed, fully erect, body rubbing. It was completely unexpected. One minute I’m in my jammies, changing the bedcovers and the next, Oliver was on top of me, bare mattress, fully covered arse. He didn’t speak, he didn’t kiss me, he just buried his face into my neck and breathed me, slowly grinding away as I ran my fingers up and down his back. It was one of the most fucking intense moments ever and now I’m a grinning fool, still sitting on the edge of an unmade bed.
Sunday February 19th
Molly Skyped with my parents and their new dog Daphne this afternoon and was surprisingly into the whole thing, given her recent dog hatred.
‘He’s so cute, Mum! He looks like he’s smiling.’
I placed her lunch in front of her, hoping she wouldn’t notice that I’d left the crusts on her sandwich. ‘I think Daphne is a girl,’ I replied. ‘It’s a girl’s name.’
‘Whatever. We should get one.’
Ugh. I fucking knew it. I don’t want a bloody dog. I have enough to do. ‘A dog is a lot of work, Molly, and it’s not fair to leave them alone all day. Your Nana and Papa are retired; they can spend lots of time with her. Besides, only Canadian dogs smile. Scottish dogs are very grumpy.’
She bit into her ham sandwich and chewed slowly, considering this. ‘DAD? ARE SCOTTISH DOGS GRUMPY?’
I heard Oliver laugh from the kitchen.
‘They are, sweetheart. Just like the people,’ he called back. ‘Look how grumpy your mum is in the morning.’
Molly looked at me and nodded while I was busy being quietly miffed that she didn’t instantly believe my bullshit dog lie.
Oliver appeared with an omelette he’d made for me, complete with wholemeal toast and a little salad on the side. I thought he was making me cheese on toast with the heel of the loaf he refused to throw out.
‘That looks fancy, Dad,’ Molly said, her swinging legs inadvertently booting me in the shin. ‘Is that for Mum?’
‘Your mum deserves fancy things,’ he replied, casually. ‘Even if they are made out of eggs.’
‘Did I come from an egg?’
Oliver and I looked at each other. Neither of us were close to ready to have THAT talk.
‘No,’ answered Oliver. ‘In fact, you were dropped off on our doorstep by a huge green monster, the scariest monster who ever lived – he said that you were too much trouble, too scary, even for him! But we liked the look of you and decided you could stay.’
Molly giggled with glee and booted me again. I can tell she hopes this is true.
Monday February 20th
Oliver and I to
ok our sexting a step further today when he sent me a photo of his cock – it was starting to look angry. I in turn nipped into the work toilets and sent him a photo of my less irate boobs, asking him if he could think of anything he’d like to do to and/or with them. I had considered taking a vag shot but I had on long boots and tights and, well, logistically it just wasn’t happening without getting undressed at work.
When I got home, he had plenty of ideas, cornering me in the bathroom to relay them in great detail.
‘I want to oil them up and stick my cock in between them.’
‘Oliver, I’m trying to run Molly’s bath.’
‘Or, I’d just cum on them. Just have you suck me off and then let me—’
‘Keep your voice down!’ I pushed the bathroom door closed. ‘I’m glad you like my tits. I mean they’re saggy as fuck since breastfeeding but—’
‘Enough of that,’ he replied, seriously. ‘They’re fucking massive, Phoebe, and I won’t hear a word against them . . . and those nipples. Why are they not in my mouth?’
I turned off the water and dried my hands, aware of just how mental this whole abstinence deal was making him. So of course, I made it worse.
‘These nipples?’ I asked, slipping my boobs out of my bra. They always look better with a bit of wire support still underneath them, otherwise Oliver would be staring at my knees. I propped myself against the sink and let him look at me. ‘You’re in so much trouble,’ he whispered into my ear. ‘You have no idea the things I’m going to do to you on Friday.’
‘Oh, I think I can guess,’ I replied, grabbing his arse with both hands. ‘Just as well we have an entire evening in which to do it.’
He moved his mouth millimetres away from mine. ‘I really need to kiss you. But if I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. This is torture.’
‘Maybe you should have a cold shower after Molly has her bath?’ He watched as I returned my boobs to their underwired home.
He shook his head. ‘Fuck no. The moment I undressed, I’d be all over myself. I’ll give Molly her bath – you get out of my sight before I have you bent over this sink. Dirty bitch.’
I slipped out of the bathroom and put Molly’s pyjamas over the radiator to warm up while Oliver helped her wash her hair. It would have been easy for me to have a little play while they were busy but I’m determined to wait it out, just as Oliver has.
God, Friday night can’t come soon enough.
Tuesday February 21st
‘You smell like fucking jasmine and vanilla. What the hell are you trying to do to me? I WILL LICK YOU, HENDERSON!’
It’s clear that Oliver isn’t coping anymore. All I did was use some body spray after my shower this morning and he lost it. He’s all testosterone and manly and quite frankly, if we weren’t seeing Pam tomorrow, I’d be licking him first. From someone who only had brief moments of being sexual, he’s turned into someone who looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time again. My fear is that we have a couple of shags and he’s back to looking at me like I’m just his mate.
Wednesday February 22nd
Back at Pam’s office today to discuss our near fortnight of not touching. She welcomed us in to the smell of burning incense and faint fart aroma.
‘Forgive the smell,’ she apologised, gesturing for us to sit down. ‘My last client brought her baby son with her, who proceeded to have rampant diarrhoea towards the end of the session.’
I smiled politely, reassuring her it wasn’t a problem, but Oliver lost it. What started as a faint shoulder shudder turned into a full blown, crying, can’t breathe, fit of the giggles. Eventually he calmed and it was his turn to apologise. ‘It’s not even that funny, I think I just have a lot of pent-up feelings.’
‘Interesting,’ Pam replied. ‘Have these last two weeks been difficult?’
Oliver took a tissue and wiped his eyes, still giving the occasional snicker. ‘I don’t know how we managed,’ he confessed. ‘It’s been tough at times. I think Phoebe’s Nine Inch Nails song is particularly accurate right now.’ He placed his hand on my knee and gave it a little squeeze.
Pam looked amused. ‘And you, Phoebe? How do you feel?’
‘It’s been quite successful, I think,’ I said, trying to be mature about the whole thing and not just launch into how utterly disgusting and distressingly undersexed we both are. I wanted to just agree with Oliver so we could move on to the next stage but I had that question that’s been nagging me since Tuesday.
‘We’re definitely ready to have sex again,’ I began, ‘but what . . . what if we get all of this sexual tension out of our system and then we’re back to where we started?’
‘It’s a good question,’ Pam responded. ‘You got to a point in your relationship where things stopped working. Sometimes seeing your partner on a purely sexual level comes way down on the list after being a parent, a household contributor, a friend . . . it’s important to focus on the way you both felt about each other when the sexual attraction was . . . intoxicating . . . urgent. From the way you’re responding to each other today, perhaps you’ve already had a glimpse of that urgency.’
We both nodded in unison.
‘Good. Then this next part will be far more enjoyable than the last. But it takes a great deal of trust and requires you both to be completely vulnerable with each other. What I want is for you both to focus on the other person. Indulge them. Their wish is your command. Almost like you’re having sex for the first time. Remember how much you wanted to please each other back then?’
‘So we get to have sex then?’ Oliver asked, clearing his throat.
Pam laughed. ‘As much and in as many ways as you can think of . . .’
Thursday February 23rd
I could tell by the look on Lucy’s face that she was eager to find out how my session with Pam went this week. Rather than yell across the office, I emailed her.
From: Phoebe Henderson
To: Lucy Jacobs
Subject: Next instalment
We’ve to make a sex jar. We write down our desires on pieces of paper and choose one or two a week. At the moment my greatest desire is to get someone to make my ironing pile disappear. We’re not seeing her for a month, so it gives us time to work on our ideas.
From: Lucy Jacobs
To: Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Re: Next instalment
SEX JAR, SEX JAR – YOU’RE A SEX JAR
So what, instead of Oliver telling you directly that he wants you to lick his balls, he just writes it down like it’s some big secret? Ooh, I like that actually . . . that’s quite hot – see, it’s even working on me.
From: Phoebe Henderson
To: Lucy Jacobs
Subject: Re: Next instalment
Oh GOD, he’s going to want me to do something vile, isn’t he? I don’t trust him with this task – if he tries to teabag me, he’s losing a testicle.
Friday February 24th
4.40 p.m. I was about to take Molly over to Hazel’s house when she suddenly decided that she didn’t want to go. I tried to appeal to her better nature by saying that Mum and Dad needed to spend some grown up time together but she didn’t care. Instead she’s just accepted the £20 note in my purse and a promise of two new outfits for her Build a Bear ponies. This shag is already costing me a fortune.
*
5.39 p.m. Oliver is stuck with a client. I’ve threatened to kill both him and his client and make it look like an IT-related accident. Oliver has informed me that I’m being unreasonable and also that I’m sexy when I’m desperate.
*
7.30 p.m. I am sitting here, shaved, scrubbed and wearing underwear that actually matches for once. I have champagne on ice and enough lube to hold a slip and slide for fifty people. The only thing that appears to be missing is Oliver. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
*
11.05 p.m. DRUNK! Turns out a whole bottle of champagne to yourself will do that. I hope my heartburn tomorrow won’t stop me
from kicking Oliver’s arse.
Saturday February 25th
So Oliver made it home at midnight, or so he says. I was asleep. Still there’s nothing like being woken up at 6 a.m. by your boyfriend going down on you, which in turn started a chain of filth which continued until 1pm . . .
As expected, our first time didn’t last that long – Oliver was at the vinegar strokes from the moment he started, pulling my legs over his shoulders and forcefully thrusting like he was trying to make my IUD shoot out of the top of my head like Inspector Gadget. The second time, however, was far more considered; lots of oral and teasing before I climbed on top and took charge, making sure he felt everything before we both came. The third time was unexpected; he flipped me on to my stomach and pounded me for ages, making me bury my face into the pillow and scream. I don’t even think he came a third time but I did. Twice.
By the time Molly got home at 3 p.m., we were both dressed and pawing at each other like teenagers. Goddammit, even now I can still feel him inside me. I’m so excited to be with him again, especially now that I know what Pam’s third step has in store. Ugh, please don’t let us fuck this up.
Monday February 27th
Yikes. I logged into my computer at work this morning to find an email from Jay waiting for me. He wants me to ‘pop in’ at some point. He’s either going to give me some business or present me an invoice for a broken side plate.
Thinking that the six minutes of sunshine we had this morning was an indicator of the weather for the rest of the day, a raging Kelly arrived into work, umbrella-free and sodding wet.
‘Don’t say a word,’ she threatened, hanging up her dripping jacket. ‘I’m frozen to the bone. I’m going to end up with bloody pneumonia.’
Lucy and I both looked at Brian, who was clearly trying to think of something clever and witty and scathing to say. But he’s a mouthy little shitbag who works on recruitment and is an all-round sexist pig, so clever and witty he is not. I’m so grateful I never asked him to help me with my sex list all those years ago; I’d never have lived it down.
Relight my Fire Page 6
