‘Stop making mischief.’ I scowled. ‘Sit yourself down; dinner’s ready.’
I carried through my massive white serving dish filled with chilli, which took up most of the space on my tiny table. ‘This is yummy,’ said Lucy. ‘My chilli is terrible.’
‘There’s a shocker,’ teased Oliver.
‘Oh, behave. You two look like you’re going to collapse from exhaustion. I take it “the list” is going well?’
‘Great.’ Oliver grinned. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Phoebe?’
I nodded. ‘I think this is the first time anyone’s asked us both about it. How odd.’
‘Well, I did help you come up with some of the challenges,’ said Lucy. ‘What are you doing now?’
‘Foursome,’ I replied solemnly, taking some more salad.
‘Phoebs isn’t sure she wants to go ahead with the foursome,’ laughed Oliver. ‘She’s scared the woman will be the Glaswegian Aileen Wuornos.’
‘I’m not!’ I laughed. ‘I’m just not sure if it’ll be any good. And her own partner called her a psycho. Just sayin’.’
‘You have to do it!’ exclaimed Lucy. ‘I’ve always wanted to know what that’s like. Oliver will protect you from the bad lady.’
Oh my lord, there’s actually something Lucy hasn’t done! My competitive side makes me want to go ahead with this for that very reason. ‘No, I will do it. I haven’t come this far just to bottle out. I’m nothing if not determined. Who wants the last taco?’
‘Me!’ said Oliver, swiping it off the plate. ‘And it’ll be grand. Even if it’s terrible, we’ll still have fun. We always do.’
‘Eurgh!’ said Lucy. ‘Don’t go getting all smooshy on me now. I’m still eating.’
Oliver dropped Lucy home after dinner and went back to his own place. I’m now curled up on the couch listening to the White Stripes, trying to drown out the noise of my neighbour watching television. Her cackle is piercing. She laughs like she’s on fire.
Tuesday May 17th
When I was sixteen, my guidance teacher asked me what I wanted to do when I left school. I think I mumbled something about being famous, but at no point did I say that I wanted a job that I hated with a boss who was blackmailing me for sex advice. That wouldn’t even have been my back-up plan, in case the being famous idea didn’t work out. Still, here I am in exactly that position and I think Frank is enjoying it more than I am.
From: Frank McCallum
To: Phoebe Henderson
Subject: I hate to say it but …
You were right. We did it again and I went for it. She was obviously delighted. She gave me a terrible blow job but regardless it went very well. She’s even texted me twice telling me so.
From: Phoebe Henderson
To: Frank McCallum
Subject: Re: I hate to say it but …
HA! I told you so. Shame about the blow job but I’m sure you can show her where she’s going wrong.
Regards,
SMUG Henderson
From: Frank McCallum
To: Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Re: I hate to say it but …
Yes, yes. It appears I have something to thank you for. But you’re keeping your job so I guess that’s thanks enough.
From: Phoebe Henderson
To: Frank McCallum
Subject: Re: I hate to say it but …
You always ruin a perfectly nice moment. I hope she bites it off.
I could hear him laughing and then my phone rang.
‘I am grateful. Really. She’s charming and I’m happy.’
‘Good for you. Quite frankly you’re much nicer than you used to be. She must be good for you.’
It seems my work here is done.
Friday May 20th
I must admit I’m stunned at the change in Frank – everyone is. He’s most definitely calmed down. I can’t remember the last time he mentioned how much he’d paid for something and he’s actually funny when he isn’t trying so hard to be a twat. Apparently Vanessa has given him a reason to smile and he’s really into her. We spoke after work for a while and if he wasn’t my boss we might have been friends. I can’t believe I just said that. He wants to have one last meeting and then he promises he’ll drop this. He’d better – I’m not an expert on anything, and I don’t see what else I can do, his hair?
Saturday May 21st
Oliver appeared around five, a couple of hours before we were due to rendezvous with Sue and Duncan at their house on the south side of the city. I still had reservations about the whole thing, which I vented to Oliver as I paced around my living room, waiting for it to be time to go.
‘He called her a psycho!’ I said. ‘Why would we even think about this again? I’d like to do this with people who like each other and who are preferably in good mental health!’
‘The guy was denied a foursome, Phoebe – I can understand where his text rage came from,’ Oliver replied from the couch. ‘It doesn’t mean that she is one; she’s probably very nice. For a psycho.’
‘Fine, but if she kills us both I’m blaming you.’
He turned on the television while I got ready and I stood looking into my wardrobe hoping that the perfect outfit would leap out at me. Either that or a magical world would appear and I could fuck off and have tea with a fawn instead.
Oliver popped his head round the door twenty minutes later. ‘You ready yet?’
I gave him a twirl, feeling very feminine in a flowery tea dress. ‘This do?’
‘God, you look great. I’m almost sorry I have to share you this evening.’
‘We’re really going to do this then?’ I asked, touching up my lipstick. ‘Shit. Let’s go before I change my mind.’
We made it all the way to the house this time. They lived about a fifteen-minute drive away – a tiny red-brick bungalow with an immaculate front garden covered in gnomes. Seriously, I felt like Gulliver. I knocked on the door and held my breath. Through the frosted glass, the silhouette of a man made his way towards us. Oliver put his hand on my back and whispered, ‘Here we go.’
We were greeted by Duncan, a website designer, very tall and toned through his white T-shirt. He led us into the living room where we met the psycho, Sue, a very slim mature student who was surprisingly welcoming. She hugged us both and invited us to sit down while Duncan got some wine. I began to relax a little.
‘I’m so sorry about last time,’ she said, kicking off her shoes. ‘I got a little nervous. I’m glad you agreed to meet us. I hope you don’t think me rude.’
‘Oh, we understand,’ I replied. ‘Don’t worry, we haven’t given it a second thought.’
Duncan returned with the wine and sat beside Sue. ‘Here’s to an interesting evening!’ he toasted.
Before long I was so lost in conversation I had forgotten why we were there, until Duncan stood up and reached out his hand towards me. Being the clued-up, suave girl that I am, I handed him my glass. He laughed, put it on the table, then took my hand and led me into the bedroom. I followed, completely lost for words and throwing Oliver an ‘Oh shit’ look as we left.
The bedroom was gorgeous, all soft lighting and candles, and I was immediately reassured that at least my bodily flaws wouldn’t be scrutinized by two strangers under a fluorescent bulb.
We started to kiss and undress and I didn’t feel awkward at all. He absolutely knew what he was doing and I happily let him. I even put the condom on with my mouth and resisted the urge to go, ‘TA-DA!’ like I’d just whipped a table cover off and the flowers were still standing. A breakthrough for me.
Then he pushed me down on to the bed and moved my legs apart with his knee. Before I knew it my legs were wrapped around him and he was gently moving inside me, asking if it was OK. It was more than OK. ‘Harder,’ I replied. ‘Fuck me harder.’
The bedroom door opened and in walked Oliver and Sue, both naked, with Oliver standing behind her, his hands moving over her body as they watched us. I turned my head to see Oliver, his eyes fixe
d on mine. Even as he kissed Sue’s neck, his gaze never left me.
Within ten minutes we were a big sweaty heap on the bed. Everyone was kissing everyone (not Duncan and Oliver unfortunately – I think that would have been hot for me and the end of Oliver) and I must say the sight of Oliver going down on Sue while I was being slammed hard by Duncan was incredible. There was a silly voice in my head narrating the whole thing as it happened, like ‘Oh, look, now I’m kissing a lady’ and ‘Oh, look, now there’s two erections pointing directly at me like divining rods’ but I carried on, determined not to let a small thing like my own weird internal monologue come between me and hot swinging sex.
The next thing that happened will remain lodged in the filthy part of my memory forever. Duncan lay down on the bed and I climbed on top of him as gracefully as my clumsy nature would allow. We started to have sex and I noticed Oliver walking behind me and heard the noise of the condom wrapper being torn. The next thing I knew he was fingering my ass and then he was inside me and I couldn’t move. Or speak. Or breathe. Sue then started to kiss me. Oh yes, I was the Queen of the Foursome and it was the most mind-blowing thing I’ve ever experienced. Completely overwhelming, sometimes uncomfortable, but I didn’t feel panicked, or violated, which I had feared I might. Then I got to watch as they both screwed Sue and came on her.
We drove home giggling and very pleased with ourselves. Even laid-back Oliver was shocked at how well things had turned out. ‘That could have been a disaster!’ he laughed as he put on a CD.
‘Very true. They could have been mental, or killed us, or EVEN WORSE, just been really crap in bed. Oh God, not Radiohead, Oliver, that’s hardly going to keep us in high spirits.’
‘Did you like it when I—’
I immediately interrupted. ‘Put it this way – that will be top of my shower-nozzle masturbation fantasies for a long time to come.’
He smiled at me and we drove the rest of the way back in triumphant silence. Another challenge complete. I win at this.
Sunday May 22nd
I left Oliver’s place and made my way to Central station this afternoon, only to discover my train had been cancelled but I was in such a good mood I didn’t give two hoots. I decided to wait in the station bar and have a quick coffee when I received the worst compliment ever from two neds:
Ned 1: ‘She looks like Katy Perry.’
Ned 2: ‘Naw, she looks like Katy Perry’s maw.’
I turned round and scowled.
‘It’s awright, missus, he’d still gie ye one.’
Oh, would he? Oh, how brilliant: Right, big boy, put down your Scampi Fries, whip off those trackie bottoms, turn your cap around backwards and let’s go for it.
I vowed to forget it, but I still put on loads of anti-ageing cream before I got into bed.
Tuesday May 24th
I took Oliver out for a birthday meal this evening, mainly because I knew it would win me sex brownie points afterwards. He was working till seven so I met him in town. He looked rough.
‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY! You look awful,’ I said, giving him a hug. ‘You feeling all right? Your eyes have massive black circles under them.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ he replied, running his hand through his rather greasy hair. ‘Yeah, was a late one last night. Boys from the office took me to a lap-dancing bar. I got hammered. Nothing some food won’t fix.’
We went to one of those barbecue places where they hurl big chunks of meat and fish on to a grill and you stand there and go ‘Ooh!’ while it cooks. I bought him the novel Death of a Ladies’ Man, firstly because it’s brilliant and sexy but also to remind him what happens to big shaggers who hit on the wrong women.
‘So tell me about your night,’ I demanded, watching him stuff three king prawns into his mouth at once. ‘Did you get a dance?’
‘I did. To be honest, I’m not that into lap dancing. The girls are lovely and all, but it’s all a bit cold, y’know; soulless.’
‘But you had a half-naked woman dancing for you. Surely that must have been fun.’
‘Nah. She smelled a bit sweaty.’
‘Yuck. That’s made me feel quite queasy. I think I’ve had enough.’
We had a fantastic night but it’s now three in the morning, I’m sick as a dog and exploding from both ends. Oliver went home shouting, ‘JESUS CHRIST, PHOEBE, THAT SMELLS LIKE SLURRY!’ and if I wasn’t so close to death already I’d kill myself through sheer embarrassment. Forget the food poisoning, I wonder how I’ll ever be able to face Oliver again after this – if it’s not bad enough that he had to endure my BV whiff, now he’s privy to my angry bowels.
I feel awful. I would complain to the restaurant, but knowing my luck they’ll just offer me a free meal if I go back.
Wednesday May 25th
I was relieved to get a text from Oliver this morning asking if I was feeling better and could I please fumigate the house before he came over to look after me. Hurrah! I’m grateful he’s decided to come back, but aware that I’ll have to face an evening of endless bowel jokes and ritual humiliation. I called in sick to work and had to speak to Kelly as Frank hadn’t arrived yet.
‘Can you tell Frank I’m ill and won’t be in today? Ta.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked abruptly.
‘Food poisoning.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Seems a little sudden.’
‘Food poisoning tends to work like that, Kelly.’
‘You know you’ll be expected to be at home all day if we need to get in touch.’
‘I’ll be at home. Tell Frank to phone me if he wants to chat about what a fucking jobsworth you are. Goodbye.’
I then crawled under the shower and made plans to set the bathroom on fire before Oliver came over.
Thursday May 26th
I’m feeling much better today. Oliver was so sweet last night; he didn’t try to paw me, he made me lots of tea and he even slept on the couch in case I got unwell again. Nothing to do with the fact I have all the cable channels and there was a late-night boxing match on, obviously.
Friday May 27th
Bloody Frank thought I called in sick to avoid having our next meeting, or last meeting, should I say. It seems the whole world still revolves around him, but he’s now convinced that I was indeed ill (apparently his sister had got food poisoning from the same restaurant so that makes it true). I’ve agreed to meet with him on Monday to get this over and done with. Then I can get back to some sort of normality.
I also discovered that Hazel is a genius. Her folks have a house in Skye and we’re all going to drive up there and have a party for my birthday, which is months away but I don’t care! She says the house sleeps up to eight, has a real-life coal fire and is miles from anywhere so we can shout and bang drums and stuff. Early birthday presents are the besterest.
Tuesday May 31st
My train journey into work this morning consisted of me trying not to scratch a massive, itchy heat spot which has appeared on the inside of my thigh. However, as the train pulled into Central station I gave in and practically clawed through my trousers to get at the little fucker. Public displays of scratching are never a good look, but I was desperate.
I managed to convince a car dealership to advertise with us, which seemed to please Frank.
‘Well done, we’ve been trying to get them in for ages. What swung it?’
‘A massive discount.’
‘Good. You can squeeze some money out of someone else to bring your figures up. Can you stay a bit later tonight? I’d like to have a chat.’
‘Yes, OK, but last one, Frank. You promised. I think I’ve more than kept up my end of the deal here.’
‘You have. Last one. Scout’s honour.’
Everyone left at five and I cunningly pretended to be on the phone so Lucy wouldn’t hang around for me or wonder why I wasn’t leaving. When the office was clear I walked into Frank’s office and sat down.
‘Right, what can you po
ssibly need help with now?’
‘Well, I was thinking if there was anything else I could do for Vanessa that I’m not already doing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well. Y’know. In bed. Sexually.’
‘Oh my. Sexually.’ I laughed.
‘Don’t mock me,’ he said, looking embarrassed. ‘Oh, I need a drink.’ And then the shithead produced a bottle of bourbon from his bottom drawer and ran off to get some Coke for me from the vending machine. How could I not have known that was there?
When he returned, I took the can and poured some Coke into my coffee mug. ‘I don’t really know what I can say, Frank. Why don’t you go through what you’d normally do in bed, unless it’s going to frighten me?’
He knocked his drink back, neat. ‘We do normal stuff. Probably tame compared to your depraved standards—’
‘HEY!’
‘—but I just want to be sure I’m giving her as much pleasure as possible.’
I held out my cup for some bourbon. ‘Maybe you should be asking Vanessa?’
‘Oh, don’t be silly. Then she’ll think I don’t know what I’m doing.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking.’
‘Behave. Look, I’ll go through what I do and if you can respond or advise without being a smart-arse, I’d appreciate it. Now drink up.’
An hour later we were both sozzled. ‘Hah! For God’s sake, Frank. Unless she asks you to bite her, DON’T! No wonder she wasn’t impressed. This isn’t fucking Twilight.’
‘Stop swearing. I just wanted to be different. You know when you look at someone and the urge to make love to them takes over and there’s nothing you can do about it? I have that with her, and I really shouldn’t say this, but I’ve imagined that with you too. A lot.’ We looked at each other and in the pit of my stomach I knew what was coming. I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know if it was the booze or the fact that he’d grown on me over the past few weeks. but at that moment I could tell he wanted me and I felt the same. ‘Show me how you kiss,’ I said, looking at him over the top of my cup.
‘What? How, I mean—’
I put down my glass and leant over and then stopped a couple of inches from his face. He smelled of booze and that aftershave I’d noticed before.
The List Page 14
