‘I’m not tired. You must have mistaken me for someone else.’
‘I see.’
He made his way back towards the living room with a spring in his step, slapping my arse as he passed me. I heard him tell Molly it was bedtime and that if she hurried, he’d read her the cat book she loved so much. Given that he hates that book, it was clear he wanted her in bed and sleepy as soon as possible.
There wasn’t much to do in terms of preparation, apart from dim the bedroom lights and move Oliver’s old socks the fuck away from me. Gah. That old saying where you’re supposed to love everything about your partner and never want to change them is such bullshit. His dropping clothes at his arse habit needs to go before I strangle him with them.
I flicked though Facebook while I waited for Oliver, inwardly scowling at the inspirational memes and laughing at a video Lucy had posted of a man walking into a lamppost. Finally Oliver came into the room, announcing that Molly had passed out during the third re-read of her book.
‘That cat is a dick,’ he whispered, locking the door. ‘Hang on, why are you still dressed?’
I put my phone on the bedside table. ‘You only need from the shoulders up!’
He laughed. ‘Fair point. But take your shirt off. Let me see your tits at least.’
So I stripped to the waist, aware that swinging boobs and a roll of fat hanging over my trousers was not my best look, but Oliver didn’t care. He’d already started groping me.
‘Hang on,’ I said quietly. ‘We need some rules here.’
‘Sure,’ he mumbled, attempting to get my entire right boob in his mouth.
‘If I slap you on the leg, it means stop.’
‘OK.’
‘Warn me if you’re going to cum.’
‘I always do . . . God, you’re so soft.’
‘And go slowly.’
He pulled away from my boobs and cupped my face in his hands. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. If you’re unsure . . . I’m just saying . . .’
I paused for a moment, biting my lip. ‘I read that me lying face up on the bed with my head hanging over is the best possi—’
‘Do it.’
It was awkward at first. As promised he did go slowly, just gently moving in and out of my mouth and running his hands over my body. I felt like an idiot but tried my best to keep my teeth away from his cock and breathe. I hadn’t had my mouth stretched this wide since I got my wisdom tooth out in 1998. The first time he went deeper than normal, I was ready. I’d trained for this. I was the Cucumber Queen of Glasgow and I prayed to God no one would ever find out about that. I must admit I was surprised at the sound he made. It was almost animalistic. It turned me on. I relaxed my throat and let him continue. However, the moment he said, ‘Oh fuck me, I can see it in your throat,’ he thrust with excitement and I gagged, slapping his thigh hard.
‘Slowly!’ I reminded him. ‘Ugh, I have spit on my chin.’
‘Sorry,’ he replied. ‘This is just so hot.’
I took a breath and we continued, making sure I took breaks. I wished I’d taken my mascara off first. That shit will make your eyes water – no one warned me about that. Fuckers. We mixed it in with normal blow job stuff, hands and ball play, and it didn’t take too long before Oliver announced he was going to cum and I let him, listening to him as he made that sound again, loudly. I think that sound was the best part of this whole experience.
Afterwards we lay in bed, me removing the mascara that had smudged into my cheeks and him just quietly nuzzling against me.
‘So what did you think?’ he asked, awkwardly. ‘I know this was all about my needs so it’s OK to hate it. Did you hate it? You’re allowed to hate it.’
‘Hate’s a bit strong.’ I laughed, inspecting the mascara-stained cotton wool. ‘It’s just a bit overwhelming . . . and uncomfortable. I guess after a few times it becomes easier, no?’
‘You’d do it again?!’ He sounded surprised.
I nodded. ‘Probably. If anything, just to hear you make that noise again.’
He blushed. ‘I have to do something for you now. Name it.’
I held back the urge to shout PICK UP YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES.
‘It’s late,’ I reminded him. ‘But we still have my last request to do. I’ll make sure it’s a fucking good one.’
Thursday April 20th
I called in to see Jay at 3 p.m. as arranged, only to discover that he’d been called away last minute and would give me a call to reschedule. I really hoped he wasn’t playing games with me, I’m too old for all that shite. Instead of going back to work, I walked around town for a while until Oliver had finished work and we drove to our session at Pam’s office together.
She was pleased to discover that we’d been continuing to work through our sex jar and remarked that we’d been holding hands since we arrived – a far cry from how we’d interacted with each other on previous visits. She found it very encouraging.
‘So, what’s next?’ Oliver asked. ‘More sex jar stuff? Cos I think we’ve nailed that.’
‘I think I’d like to keep this as part of our routine anyway,’ I admitted, glancing at him. ‘It’s been a lot of fun.’ Oliver agreed, a smile appearing on his face to rival Pam’s.
I watched Pam take a sip of her tea, noticing her thumb ring which was in the shape of a fairy. Of course it was.
‘Our next step is honesty,’ she informed us. ‘You appear to be in a place now where you’re both ready to hear each other. So for next week, I want you to write down two or three things that you feel you need to get off your chest. It can be something about the other person you’re not comfortable with, or something you’ve done that you’re not comfortable with – just whatever you feel has become a burden for you.’
‘What if there isn’t anything?’ Oliver asked.
Pam raised her eyebrows. ‘I’d be very surprised. Wouldn’t you? How many times have you kept something from Phoebe for fear that she’d judge you or start questioning her reasons for being with you? We all do it but carrying that around can take its toll. Believe me, I’ve seen it over and over again.’
She saw my face and smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried. How often do you get a chance to tell Oliver to clean up after himself and actually be heard?’
HOW DID SHE KNOW? WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT?
Friday April 21st
Just after I dropped Molly at nursery this morning, I spotted Sarah Ward-Wilson standing by her car, wearing sunglasses and texting furiously. It wasn’t until I saw her wipe a tear from her cheek that I realised she wasn’t wearing her shades in the rain to look cool.
I walked over, knowing that she’d probably tell me to fuck off, but the urge to make sure she was alright was strong. I’ve been ‘crying in the street’ unhappy before. No one deserves that.
She didn’t notice me until I was standing beside her and she recoiled slightly in surprise. ‘Oh!’ She sniffed and tried to regain her composure. ‘Hello, Phoebe, how are you? This weather is awful! I’m due to get my highlights done in an hour and—’
‘How are you, Sarah?’ I interrupted before her voice got any higher. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but is everything OK?’
Expecting her to insist she was perfectly fine, I was surprised when she shook her head and began sobbing.
‘He’s lefty!’ she bawled loudly.
It took me a second to realise she was saying, ‘He’s left me.’
‘Oh. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk ab—’
‘Fifteen years!’ she exploded. (I guess she did want to talk.) ‘I gave that bastard fifteen years, four kids and he thinks he’ll just fuck off with the mistress I pretended not to know about!’
As much as I wanted to comfort her, and I did, this was fucking amazing.
‘Wait. You knew he was cheating?!’
She laughed maniacally. ‘Of course I did. He’s not so smart. I used his thumbprint to open his phone while he slept.’
I could see other parents
glancing at us as they walked back to their cars. Lord Wilson was impressively losing her shit.
I didn’t even have to question her further before we were both sitting in her 4x4 while she smoked a cigarette and told me the whole story. I thought about cadging a fag but I didn’t want Lord Wilson’s drama to be the reason I started smoking again.
‘She’s twenty-nine, you know – this Hannah one. Twenty-nine, where her tits still point upwards and she doesn’t sneeze and piss at the same time. She sent him a fucking video of herself masturbating and calling out his name! I mean, have you seen my husband? He’s like a blob of hairy custard and she’s wanking over him?! She’s wanking over your bank balance, sweetheart. Get real.’
I wasn’t even sure she was still speaking to me but I listened anyway.
‘I’m not a fool, Phoebe. I was biding my time. I had planned to stick it out until Ruby was a little older and then fuck off, but the silly old fool thinks he’s in love with his PA. He’s fifty-five and she’ll eventually leave him, and my children will be left with a poor, pathetic, shell of a father who has nothing left. It’s so fucking cliché, I want to throw up.’ She took a long drag from her cigarette and threw the rest out of the window. ‘He’s packing as we speak. Tell the kids I’m away on business, he said. He doesn’t even have the balls to do it himself. Ugh, they’re all the fucking same, Phoebe. Men are scum. All of them. They’d stick their dicks into anything with a pulse.’
‘I’m really sorry this happened,’ I said, knowing this wasn’t any consolation to her but also a tad annoyed she’d implied that every man was as shitty as hers. ‘If I can help in any way . . .’
She turned to me and wiped her nose with her hand before quietly asking, ‘What am I going to do?’
It was then that I realised that Sarah Ward-Wilson was just as confused and miserable as the rest of us.
Saturday April 22nd
Today was mostly spent contemplating what I’d say at our next meeting with Pam. Of course I’ll mention the fact that Oliver can be a slob but I think she’s after something a little deeper. I consider myself to be an open person though, especially with Oliver, so I’m not convinced I have anything that I’ve been purposefully hiding . . . Oh. Wait:
• The Kyle dream.
• Jay.
• That aftershave he loves so much that makes him smell like damp wood.
• That sometimes I wish he’d take Molly to Dublin on his own so I could be rid of them both for a few days and play with my friends – but this makes me feel like a bad person.
Shit. So I guess Pam was right. We all have something.
*
The evening was spent in front on the television, channel-hopping through a disturbing amount of shit Saturday night programmes and eating junk.
‘Oh, I never told you about my little encounter with Lord Wilson,’ I said, grabbing a fistful of crisps. ‘Turns out her hubby has been having an affair with his assistant. She’s fucking livid; well, who wouldn’t be?’
‘Really?’ Oliver replied, taking the snack bowl away from me. ‘I suppose these things happen, though.’
‘It’s the biggest mid-life crisis cliché ever,’ I continued. ‘Next he’ll be showing up to nursery in a penis-mobile.’
‘We don’t know the full story,’ Oliver said, continuing to click the remote control. ‘We know she’s a nightmare. He might have been really unhappy. We shouldn’t judge.’
‘They have four kids. Unhappy or not, it’s a selfish, dick move. Sarah might be a nightmare but she’s still a person. Being cheated on is a horrible betrayal. Remember when my ex Alex cheated on me? It fucked with my head for ages – you know that.’
Flashbacks from that time started to dart in and out of my mind and I physically tried to shake them off, which didn’t go unnoticed.
‘Let’s not dwell on this,’ he insisted, knowing where my mind had wandered. ‘Movie? We could watch the new Spiderman? I hear it’s good.’
‘I think I’d rather be cheated on.’
He smiled weakly and proceeded to find the movie channel, while I laughed at my own joke.
Monday April 24th
I snuck into work twenty minutes late this morning, ready to explain to Dorothy that I’d been stuck in traffic, when in reality, Molly had spilled milk all down herself two minutes before we were due to leave for nursery.
I stealthily took my seat and quickly turned my PC on before noticing that there was no one else at their desks either. Not even Lucy. I could hear laughter coming from the meeting room around the corner. Oh fuck, I was going to have to make an entrance. Thankfully they all sounded in an upbeat mood. I grabbed my sales sheets and scurried along to join the meeting, wondering why the fuck everyone was so happy on a Monday morning.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I apologised, rushing in. ‘Traffic was—’
‘Good morning, Phoebe. Long time, no see.’
My eyes nearly fell out of my head and all I could think was –
No.
NO.
NO.
‘Frank?!’
I couldn’t fucking believe it. My old boss. The one who drove me nuts. The one I’d often despised with a passion. The one I’d shagged in almost every part of this office. And his car. And his flat.
And he was here.
He was back.
‘Are you alright, Phoebe?’ Dorothy looked at me with a confused expression, while I did my best not to fucking faint on the spot.
I quickly sat down in my chair. ‘Yes. Sorry, I just rushed to get in. I’m a little lightheaded.’
Why was he here? He’d left for London the year I found out I was pregnant. The year he’d manipulated me into helping him ‘woo’ Vanessa, the woman he left with! He was a mistake that I didn’t ever want to revisit, yet HERE WE FUCKING ARE.
Dorothy passed me some Buck’s Fizz. Oh God, they were celebrating his return. I felt sick. I couldn’t even look at him.
‘So now we’re all here,’ Dorothy continued, ‘I’d like to formally welcome Frank back after six years away. As it’s my last day, I’ll be spending it getting Frank up to speed, but I’m sure you’re all delighted to have him back.’
As everyone clinked glasses, Frank’s gaze met mine and I could tell that he remembered every. single. detail. Oh, just fucking shoot me.
*
I didn’t see much of Frank for the rest of the day and invented a 4 p.m. appointment so I could leave the office earlier that night. Lucy found the whole thing hysterical. Of course she had no idea what went on between us. The only people who knew were Oliver and Pam.
‘I’m surprised at how well he looks,’ Lucy said over lunch. ‘I wonder if he’s still the wanksock he always was. Maybe life with his girlfriend has mellowed him – oh God, what was her name?’
‘No idea,’ I lied. It was Vanessa. I knew everything about her because he was an oversharing asshole. ‘But I can’t imagine him changing for anyone.’
‘Let’s hope he’s lightened up on you a bit,’ she replied, shaking a little sugar sachet for her coffee. ‘Remember how he used to haul you into his office and yell at you? We were all surprised you didn’t report him.’
I did remember. He did that as an excuse to get me alone. It was such an odd time in my life. I was getting over Alex, I was getting under Oliver, and Frank and I, well, we used each other. We left things on relatively good terms; not best mates, by any stretch of the imagination, but we had a certain respect for each other in small, nay, miniscule doses.
I wasn’t sure how Oliver would react to him being back in my life. This all happened before Oliver and I were a thing but I distinctly remember Oliver calling him an uptight knob. I might leave it a couple of days.
Tuesday April 25th
Arriving on time this morning, I slipped into the kitchen to make coffee before Frank spotted me. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever but I could have a damn good crack at it. Why the fuck are these men reappearing in my life all of a sudden? How is this good for
my mental health?
Lucy had beaten me to it; she was already in the kitchen making coffee for everyone, except Kelly who wanted some of the stinky herbal tea she pretended to like.
She admired her engagement ring as we stood and chatted for a minute. ‘I still can’t quite believe we’re doing this,’ she confessed. ‘I always thought you and I would end up together like Bert and Ernie.’
‘Don’t give up on us yet,’ I laughed, pouring more milk into my coffee. ‘There’s still time.’
‘Time for what? For me to fuck it up?’
‘No, for me to have Kyle killed. I know people.’
She snorted and grabbed the tray of drinks. ‘If that’s true, maybe you can sort Frank out. He’s already put some weird artwork on his office wall this morning. It’s like he never went away.’
My plan to avoid him was ruined when one by one, he called each of us into his office to catch up, predictably leaving me till last.
‘Phoebe, do you have a minute?’
Here we go. I swivelled around in my chair, swiping my notepad and sales folder from the desk. My heart was racing but I managed to keep calm, casually walking into his office like nothing had ever happened.
He closed the door and cleared his throat. It seems he was as nervous as I was. I waited for him to sit back behind his desk.
‘Still a fan of the artwork, I see.’ I gestured towards the painting on the wall. ‘It’s nice that you’ve done that – most parents just hang it on the fridge.’
‘Still a smart-arse then?’ he replied, smiling. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘Um, yes – you too . . .’
‘I see you had a baby.’
I blinked at him with a blank expression on my face as he became flustered.
‘I don’t mean from the way you look – you actually look thinner than I remember – I just meant from your file here. It mentions your maternity leave.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘This is weird, Frank, I’m not going to pretend otherwise.’
He adjusted the photo of Vanessa on his desk. ‘Oh, calm down, woman. What happened . . . well, it was years ago. I’m not giving it a second thought and neither should you. God, you’re just as infuriating as ever.’
Relight my Fire Page 11
