Relight my Fire

by Joanna Bolouri

  ‘Admin,’ she informed him, shaking his hand. ‘I’m not one of the sales wankers.’

  He laughed. ‘Good to know. Listen, have a drink, and I’ll try and catch up with you later, Phoebe.’

  I nodded and pulled Lucy away before she had the chance to ask to see his office.

  Forty minutes and two tequilas later, I’d relaxed enough to forget about my history with Jay. Unfortunately, Lucy hadn’t.

  ‘If you weren’t with Oliver, I’d be telling you to fire into him,’ she declared, licking the excess salt off the back of her hand.

  I sighed. ‘Why? Because the first time was so memorable for him? I think not.’

  ‘Hmm – actually, scrap that. If I wasn’t with Kyle . . .’

  ‘Behave. I have to work with this man. In fact, now would be a good time to leave. Wait here while I say bye.’

  Lucy bolted to the bar to get one last shot in while I made my way over to Jay; he was just heading into his office.

  ‘Sorry, I know you’re busy,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to say bye and thanks again for the invite.’

  ‘Leaving so soon?’

  ‘Work tomorrow,’ I lied. ‘But I’ll be in touch about your ads.’

  The sound of a glass breaking, followed by a loud cheer from the bar. I turned to see the culprit, Lucy, clinking shot glasses with a biker twice her size. Jay started to laugh.

  ‘I’ll be taking her with me,’ I reassured him. ‘Sorry.’

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, at least it wasn’t you breaking my shit again.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘My mum was really pissed about that plate . . . anyway, see you soon! Safe home!’

  I stood there, stuck to the spot while he entered his office and closed the door. All I could think was: he remembers me? Yay! He remembers me!

  OH.

  GOD.

  HE REMEMBERS ME.

  Friday March 10th

  11.59 a.m. Lucy has been sending me laughing gifs over WhatsApp all morning because she finds it hilarious that Jay knew who I was all along. I started ignoring her after the twelfth ‘owned’ gif but she’s still going strong.

  *

  3.15 p.m. Just back after picking Molly up from nursery. She made me some sort of papier-mâché jam jar creation with a love heart on one side and what looks like a bit of snot on the other. I’ve been carefully avoiding touching that in case it was sneezed there by accident. Oliver should be back around six – I imagine he’s keen for me to choose his first piece of paper from the sex jar from the way he keeps saying, ‘I cannot wait to see which one of mine we’re doing first’ repeatedly. God help me.

  Saturday March 11th

  I’m not saying that Oliver’s first choice isn’t perfectly reasonable in the grand scheme of things, but he’s definitely pushing my boundaries in terms of things I said I’d never do.

  ‘Really? You want to unload on my face?’

  ‘Unload? Phoebe, we’re not running a haulage company.’

  I sighed. ‘You know I hate all that. It’s degrading.’

  Oliver sat down beside me on our bed as I held his little piece of paper in my hand. ‘Is it, though?’ he enquired. ‘You know I love and respect you . . . and look, even if it is – why can’t we throw a little bit of degradation in there? I don’t feel that comfortable when you ask me to call you a filthy bitch but I still do it.’

  ‘Well, that’s completely diff—’

  ‘Actually, fuck it; who am I kidding? I love all that.’ He took the note out of my hand and pushed me back on to the bed. ‘I want you to be my filthy bitch. I’m not even sorry. I want you to suck my cock and let me finish on your face.’ He started undoing my jeans.

  I have no idea whether it was the forceful approach Oliver took or the fact that he’d called me a filthy bitch twice and it turned me on, but moments later I was on my knees in front of him, telling him to avoid my hair.

  To be honest, it wasn’t as awful I thought it would be. In fact, when I saw how excited Oliver was by the whole thing, it made me wish I’d done it sooner.

  Monday March 13th

  ‘Well, I have to say I’m impressed,’ Lucy remarked as we made coffee before the morning meeting. ‘Though, I think you should prepare yourself for most of Oliver’s suggestions to be ejaculation-related.’

  We hadn’t even noticed the cleaner standing behind us, until she coughed like a disapproving parent. We took our cups and walked back through to the office.

  ‘You enjoyed it, though?’ I nodded, holding open the corridor door. ‘Yeah. I guess it was pretty hot. He looked pretty hot doing it. God, I liked making him feel like that.’

  Lucy squeezed past me. ‘Well, my dear, you know what that makes you then?’

  ‘Um . . . a good girlfriend?’

  ‘Nope. A great big cum slut! Soon you won’t be happy until your face looks like it’s being prepared for wallpaper –Morning, everyone!’

  Unable to finish this conversation, we both headed through to the meeting room where Dorothy had an announcement to make. ‘Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed working with you all, I’ve decided it’s time for me to move on. It’ll be officially announced later this week.’

  ‘Does this mean your position is open?’ Kelly asked almost immediately. ‘Is it being advertised internally?’

  ‘No one’s letting you run the office, Kelly,’ Brian responded on behalf of everyone.

  Before they had time to argue, Dorothy stepped in. ‘As far as I know, the position is being advertised both internally and externally. I’ll keep you up to date but I’m due to leave at the end of the month.’

  Blimey! I wonder who’ll replace her. Fuck, if Kelly did get the job, I think I’d leave. Maybe that’s what I need to get me out of here finally! I’ll ask her if she wants a reference.

  Tuesday March 14th

  Oliver is still chipper as fuck about the other day and showing his affection in various ways, like holding one of my boobs while we sleep and pulling me in from behind for hugs and neck-nuzzling. We even had a really slow, really deep spoon this morning where he was forced to cover my mouth with his hand to quieten my moans. Next sex jar request is scheduled for Thursday – my turn. Gosh, we only have another two each to do before we see Pam again to discuss our progress.

  Wednesday March 15th

  Oliver has assured me that eating out-of-date hummus won’t kill me. If I do die and the police are reading this, please arrest him.

  Thursday March 16th

  Sex jar time again! Oliver practically frogmarched me into the bedroom the moment I’d put Molly to bed, unwilling to meet with my ‘let me do the dinner dishes first’ demands. As he closed the door behind him quietly, I noticed that he’d already placed the jar on the bed.

  ‘Someone’s keen,’ I teased, hopping on to the bed. ‘Have you had a peek already?’

  ‘Nearly,’ he confessed, closing the blinds. ‘But it’s far more fun if I see your face while I read it.’

  I watched him pick one of my yellow slips of paper from the jar. He didn’t look happy.

  ‘You want to fuck a stranger? What the hell, Phoebe? Why are you smiling?’

  I guessed this was not the face, nor the request, he was expecting. ‘Relax.’ I laughed, placing my hand on his arm. ‘I want you to be the stranger – well, you, but not you exactly.’

  ‘You’re so fucking weird,’ he said quietly, reading the note again. ‘But OK. I’m listening.’

  ‘I want us both to be other people for the night,’ I began, trying to explain more eloquently. ‘I’m going to book a room at a hotel. And I want to meet you in the bar. Maybe we’re both there on business. Maybe we’re just hanging out . . . maybe I’m in a mood with my boyfriend who didn’t do the dishes while I put our kid to bed—’

  ‘But I was going to aft—’

  ‘Whatever, we can work out the story. But I want you to flirt with me like we just met. I want to get a little tipsy. But most of all, I want the only thing on your mind to b
e how you’re going to get me up to that hotel room with you.’

  He was suddenly very interested. ‘And when we get there?’

  I leaned in. ‘Then I want you to do whatever the fuck you want to me.’

  He ran his hand through his hair and muttered, ‘I’m fucking framing this one,’ before pulling my face into his and kissing me hard.

  I can tell this is going to be a good one.

  Friday March 17th

  ‘I have a huge favour to ask.’

  Hazel looked at me suspiciously from the other side of a clothes rail. ‘What have you done?’

  Perhaps the middle of TK Maxx wasn’t best time to discuss this, but I carried on regardless. ‘Nothing! It’s just . . . we’re seeing Pam next week and we still have a few things to do from the . . . jar. Can you watch Molly tomorrow night?’

  ‘Oh, I would, but Kevin and I have plans. Grace is having a sleepover at her friend’s house.’

  I sighed and put down the hideous blouse I was holding. ‘Dammit. We need to stay a night in a hotel.’

  ‘Ask Lucy.’

  I grimaced. ‘I trust Lucy with my life, but Molly’s? I dunno . . .’

  Hazel laughed. ‘Nonsense. Lucy’s sat for Grace a few times. And Molly loves her. She might dye her hair or pierce something, though – you’d just need to take the risk . . .’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘I’m kidding. Text her. She’ll say yes.’

  *

  8.55 p.m. She said yes, agreeing to stay over at our place so Molly didn’t feel uncomfortable in a strange house. Why didn’t I think of this before? She also recommended a hotel she’d been to and I’ve just booked the last room available for tomorrow night. We’re all set! Bring it on!

  Sunday March 19th

  (Sex Jar #3 update from last night. Current state: cannot walk.)

  I got to the hotel at 6 p.m. to get ready in the room before Oliver arrived at 8 p.m. But upon seeing it, my heart sank. Sure, the hotel was modern like Lucy said, but in my hurry to book the last room I hadn’t noticed that it had NO FUCKING WINDOW. We were essentially going to shag in a cell. Thankfully the shower was hot, but seriously – no direct sunlight? If we’d been role playing a couple of horny vampires, this would have been perfect.

  Even though we were playing strangers, we’d decided to keep our names, as I didn’t trust him not to come up with something stupid like Rusty or Tarquin and fully expect me to use it all night with a straight face. However, everything else would be invented, including jobs, home life and whatever else we could throw in to liven things up. I’d decided to keep my job the same (fuck making up too much on the spot) but I’d be unhappily married and childless.

  The receptionist looked a little confused to see that I’d arrived in jeans and high-tops but was now wearing a business suit to relax in the bar on a Saturday night. Regardless, I marched through fifteen minutes early to get a table before Oliver showed up. Why was I nervous? I’ve known this man since I was sixteen.

  The bar area was small but brightly lit, with dark brown, wood panelling, trendy rectangular spotlights all over the ceiling and the odd pink chair scattered around for a burst of colour. I hated it. No windows and pink chairs. Lucy’s an idiot. Oh God, I’ve left my child with an idiot.

  Reminding myself that I wasn’t there for the décor, I bought a Jack and Diet Coke and picked a table beside the window so I could remember what the outside looked like for the next couple of hours. In front of me sat two women drinking hot chocolate and from what I could hear by unashamedly eavesdropping, Woman 1 had a very nice time at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Woman 2 had a blister on her effing heel.

  ‘Is this seat taken?’

  Fucking hell, I nearly jumped out of my seat. I turned to see Oliver, standing there in a blue suit, his dark, curly, grey-flecked hair dishevelled. He looked like he did when we did a student/teacher role play a few years ago, albeit a little older. Still as sexy as ever. If he’d worn his glasses, I’d have straddled him there and then.

  I shook my head and gestured for him to sit down, getting a small frisson of excitement as he placed his drink beside mine.

  ‘Oliver,’ he announced, holding out his hand, which I shook in a I-have-never-met-you-before-you-complete-stranger manner, complete with a look of mild disinterest. I didn’t want to appear overly keen. Saying that, in real life I’d probably have told him to sit at one of the other empty tables, fuckface, so maybe my approach was redundant.

  ‘Phoebe,’ I responded. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He unbuttoned his jacket, aware I was watching him. He fucking wore that suit on purpose to throw me off my game. But he won’t win. I’ve got this.

  The next few minutes were awkward. I checked my phone and stared out of the window while Oliver grabbed a newspaper from a nearby table and noisily flicked through the pages.

  ‘Nice evening.’

  I nodded as he continued to scrunch the paper.

  ‘There are other tables here if you’d like to read noisily,’ I said, keeping my eyes on my phone. ‘I came here for a quiet drink.’

  He smirked and folded over the paper. ‘Phoebe, wasn’t it? Yes, there are, but none of them are near you. And I’d really like to buy you another drink.’

  ‘Oh, that’s smooth.’ I laughed. ‘Sure, why not? Jack and Diet Coke.’

  ‘Be right back.’

  As he went to the bar, the woman with her back to me at the nearby table turned around.

  ‘Is that man bothering you?’

  Yes. God, yes. For over twenty years.

  ‘Oh, no,’ I replied. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. I think he’s just lonely . . . he’s probably on day release or something . . .’

  She smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond and returned to her friend, no doubt telling her to call the police if I started blinking at her in code. I couldn’t help myself. I took an old receipt from my bag and scribbled down ‘woman at next table is worried you’re a weirdo. Which you are.’

  Oliver returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. ‘You don’t mind, do you? I thought we might get a little tipsy.’ I slyly handed him the note and watched him grin.

  ‘How forward of you,’ I quickly retorted. ‘But I need to make sure you’re not a dangerous psycho first. Have you ever been arrested?’

  The glint in his eye was unmistakable. ‘Um . . . before I went to prison, yes, I was arrested.’

  I tried my best not to laugh. ‘Why did you go to jail?’

  He poured me a glass of champagne and then himself, purposefully giving himself time to think. ‘It wasn’t anything brutal. I just happened to borrow some money from my employers without their permission.’

  ‘Borrow? Ha! How much? If that’s not too personal a question?’

  ‘Enough,’ he replied. ‘It was enough. But that’s in my past. I’m sure you have things in your past you’d rather not discuss in public?’

  I knew that this was Oliver’s way of inviting me to invent something just as elaborate.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I answered coyly. ‘Nothing quite as illegal, however.’

  If popcorn had been offered to the women at the next table, they’d have taken it.

  Oliver leaned forward and touched my knee under the table. ‘But since we’re sharing, Phoebe . . .’

  My plan to become different people for the evening had suddenly become far more interesting than I’d ever expected, but my mind was going blank. What could I have done in my past that I’d rather forget? Punched a dog? Slept with a Sky engineer for extra channels? Fed a burger to a cow?

  ‘I used to do phone sex lines,’ I blurted out, instantly regretting it.

  Oliver laughed. ‘What? Phone them or take the calls?’

  ‘I took the calls.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t look like a sex line operator.’

  ‘Well . . . you don’t look like a “borrower”.’

  ‘I should hope not – they’re tiny.’

  That was when I lost it. I star
ted laughing so hard, champagne came out of my nose. It was then that the two women at the table in front took their coats and left. No one in need of help would be laughing this much.

  ‘So tell me more about your sex line work, Phoebe,’ Oliver continued, watching the women walk away. ‘Although, I should warn you: I’m already incredibly attracted to you.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  He moved to the seat directly beside me. ‘Yes. So don’t ruin it.’

  I did my best not to smirk but one crept over my face without my permission. ‘It’s simple, really. Men would call me up and I’d talk dirty to them.’

  He downed the remainder of his champagne before pouring us both another glass. ‘Really? How dirty?’

  It was my turn to lean into him. ‘Incredibly dirty,’ I said softly. ‘So filthy I’d have to get myself off just talking about it. The things they wanted to do to me . . .’

  ‘Like what?’ he asked quietly, before taking a sharp breath as I ran my hand up his thigh towards his crotch.

  ‘Exactly what you’re imagining doing to me right now, I’d presume . . .’ I slid my hand up a little further. ‘Yep. I thought so.’

  As Oliver took another long drink, I could feel him get harder under my hand.

  ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Are you staying at the hotel, Phoebe?’

  ‘Maybe. Why?’

  ‘You know the answer to that.’

  I noticed that the bar had suddenly filled up to capacity. I was so freakin’ into this, I hadn’t paid attention to anything else. ‘Look . . . Oliver, wasn’t it? I’m not in the habit of just letting strangers come to my room, let alone ones that—’

  Oliver took his glasses out of his inside pocket.

  ‘Ones that what?’ he asked, putting them on. ‘You were say—?’

  ‘You fucker. Room 203. Meet me there in five minutes.’

  I left the table, making my way hurriedly to the lifts and back to the room. I was excited for what was about to happen, but mainly I really needed to pee. I just had time to freshen up before I heard him knock on the door, undoubtedly using his hard-on.

  I had barely opened the door before his hands were grabbing at my clothes and his mouth was on mine. I’d seen him eager before but this was on a whole new level. I pulled away for a second as the door shut behind him.