by Lovell, Dani
“Don’t do that,” he says, softly.
“Don’t do what? I was just going to put them in the bin for you.”
“I know. Exactly. Don’t tidy up after me, I should be making it tidy for you.”
What?! “Oliver, what are you talking about? I have always tidied up after you. Always. For as long as I can remember. Stop being daft.”
“No,” he says, walking to the bin to place them in there himself, “I don’t want you to think you have to do that. I’m a mess, yeah, it’s a fact - but I don’t want to see you walking around cleaning up my shit like I’m some kind of slob who lets his ‘bitch’ do everything.”
Wow. “Oh… um. Okay… I think? Though, you know, we have had sex before, Oliver… why are you being all weird and different about it now? I ain’t yo bitch,” I add with a flick of my wrist, giggling; so amused at my bad self.
He grins and walks over to me, semi-dressed in just jeans and aftershave. He wraps his arms around my waist and sways slightly. Oh dear god, he smells divine. He presses his jaw against my temple as he runs his hands up and down my back and as he speaks, the deep, heavy vibrations rattle my nervous system. “You don’t want to be my ‘bitch’?”
Oh god, yes, a million times - yes. Forever and always, with a tiny baby… uh, I mean a cherry on top - YES. Hmm? What? I didn’t think that.. no. Not me. “You know very well that I don’t want to spoil our relationship, and me being ‘yo bitch’ would be the quickest route from ‘A’ to ‘Disaster’.”
“I know. And I don’t want you to be my bitch, anyway. You shouldn’t be anyone’s ‘bitch’. You are going to be someone’s fucking sexy, hot, empowered, independent, beautiful, mother-fucking wife.”
I don’t think the Lord is going to help me with what to say or how to remain upright about now, so calling out to him yet again is simply unnecessary. But oh holy Mother of Christ, maybe she’ll help me. What he said - I want to be what he said! HIS MOTHER-FUCKING WIFE! Hmm? What?
I slip my hands around his back automatically while I think of something to say, and I’m at a total loss so I just close my eyes and sigh, defeated and rest my forehead against his hard chest. I do so want to be someone’s wife and someone else’s mother. More than he could possibly know. It’s all I’ve wanted for a very long time and it makes me sad to think I may never have that - if I continue to have problems meeting the right man for me.
“What? Why so silent? You know you were born to be a wife and mother.”
“Yeah, let’s not talk about that now, okay?”
He tightens his arms around me. “Okay, darling. Do we have to go out? I’m so comfortable like this…”
I laugh against his chest. “Me too, but yes, we do. Everyone will be waiting for us if we don’t leave soon. I’d love to spend the day…” I trail off, suddenly unsure if I should be speaking my mind - we’re still friends and I’m talking like we’re lovers.
“Spend the day… carry on…” he prompts.
“Um… spend the day, in, um…”
He pulls back and looks down at my face, his beautiful bottle green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t get all shy on me now, gorgeous - you want to spend the day… cuddling? In bed? Having no clothes on, pressed up against each other? Don’t be bashful, I want that, too.” He bends slowly to kiss me and it’s so gentle and sweet, it’s so easy to forget that we’re BFFs all of a sudden - why is that? It’s always been right up there at the front of my mind, but he’s never been quite so… loving with me before. Never mind the butterflies; I’m a little baffled to speak the truth, what the hell is going on with us?
I smile shyly. He got it spot on. Oliver and I - whenever we have been intimate - have always been very passionate and rushed. We never stayed in each other’s beds, we were able to wake up the next day, alone, and continue as always… okay, maybe he was, I always had a little unsatisfied feeling about me - totally sexually satisfied, of course, but there was always an empty spot where a boyfriend should be. But to the outside world, blissfully unaware of the naughty, dirty things that had recently gone down with us, we were - as always - the best of friends. Of course until Snide Stacy came along, and then everything was weird whether we had sex or not. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so different about the whole thing… I’m just grateful to have him and our friendship back. I missed him, terribly, during that ‘her period’.
I take a deep breath to force myself to break away from his oh-so-intoxicating embrace and I lightly spank his bottom. “Okay, matey, get your kecks on, enough of this sexy, sexy lark.”
He laughs and steps away, not before planting a lovely, soft kiss on my forehead. And that’s another thing - unless we’re full on pashing, his kisses never leave that cold, wet, slime trail that I absolutely hate. So many men have that problem and it just grosses me out to the max. Yes, that’s right. If Oliver wasn’t one of my besties, he’d definitely be my dream man. If.
I wait by the door as he finishes dressing. I’ve seen him partially naked many times before, even before any of the sex stuff happened, we’re close - but I am having maximum difficulty peeling my eyes from his smooth, unblemished skin… his muscular torso that screams out to be licked, the veins in his forearms that remind me how deliciously strong he is… oh god, what’s happening to me? Not again!
I pull my phone from my bag in a bid to distract myself and luckily, it does the trick; six text messages and a voicemail. Flicking through them all, I find five happy birthday messages from Tilly, my parents and my siblings, and one spammy PPI one from an unknown number.
I know the voicemail is from my mum, she always calls and texts, ‘just in case’. I’ll call her back later; I’m too preoccupied with a sexual buzz to be thinking of being an innocent daughter, right now. My parents aren’t like Bea’s in the slightest, I love them to pieces - of course, but they’re just a little… dull, in comparison. They like quiet, they like to sit in rocking chairs and knit or play chess to the low-volume sound of an orchestra playing on the wireless in the background.
They were never particularly affectionate, and I don’t feel overly close to my brother and sister who are both older than me. We were never much of a ‘huggy’ family. Luckily for me, I found the affection I think I have always craved in my best friends and their families, and honestly, I think that was almost a relief to my own parents. They knew I was ‘different’ and were never too sure how to deal with it.
I think Bea and Oliver have the most perfect family life; they are so close, affectionate with one another yet not in each other’s shoes which can be a little weird in my opinion - but then I did grow up with everyone in different rooms - reading Shakespeare or playing a musical instrument (only once fully tutored, I don’t think my mother would have been able to cope with the sounds of an eight year old practising the piano or violin).
I was different, I’m the black sheep of the family who decided to go into travel and cake making instead of university - nowhere near the intellectual levels of my siblings. However, luckily, my parents have never been particularly disappointed by me, they just think of me as the ‘wild card’ who has lots of friends and wears ‘trendy’ clothes.
I, too, play the piano, a very unknown fact amongst my friends, it was something I wanted to leave behind when I went to college; I knew my family were a bit geeky and I was embarrassed by that. I felt my piano playing was ‘uncool’, so I never mentioned it.
“Let’s go,” Oliver says, waking me from the uneventful memories of my youth as he slips his hand around my waist. He’s being dreadfully touchy feely today. It’s nice. “Where are we meeting?”
“At the Country Club, here at the hotel.”
“Do you know the way?”
“No, but we can get directions at reception. There are so many restaurants I don’t know which is which!”
“I know, fantastic though isn’t it? I’ve been to a lot of hotels in my time, but Vegas, and this hotel in particular is crazy over-the-top, in a good way!”
“It’s an amazing place to be on my birthday.”
He closes the door and takes my hand again, smiling down at me. “It really is, I’d love to come for mine one day… Oh, and about your gift, I haven’t got you one yet - it wasn’t the easiest thing to do with Stacy around, so…want to go shopping later?”
“Oh, Oliver, no need. Don’t worry about that.”
We begin to stroll, hand in hand. “Clare, I want to. So whenever you’re ready, we’ll hit the shops and get you something special.”
I roll my eyes and blush, saying nothing.
It doesn’t take too long to get to the fabulous ‘Country Club’ where Daniel, Bea and Alexia are waiting for us at a beautiful outside table. The hot sun is glistening and the impressive, cascading waterfall and pond, along with the view of the ‘Wynn’ golf course, creates a fantastic, indulgent setting.
I made a note - as we approached the restaurant - that I was the one to release Oliver’s hand, not the other way around. I wonder if he would have continued to hold it until we reached the table in full view of our friends… It’s bizarre behaviour.
“Happy Birthday!” Alexia says, affectionately, as she stands to hug me.
“Thank you, wow this place is incredible!”
“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” Daniel says, as he, too, hugs me and kisses my cheek.
“And we’ve already done that…” Bea says with a small smirk, remembering this morning… how Bea manages to make a smirk sophisticated is beyond me, “… but Happy Birthday, again, darling.”
I take a dark, wicker seat by the low, glass wall over-looking the water and lush greenery, and Oliver sits next to me. I have birthday cards and a couple of gifts sitting in front of me and I feel a little embarrassed but so grateful to have wonderful friends like these, who treat me so specially.
My stomach rumbles as the waitress arrives at the table and hands us all a menu. No breakfast and lots of sex makes Clare a hungry, hungry girl. She takes our drinks orders and I look through the list of mouthwatering dishes to select my lunch.
“Do you think we should have a big lunch and a smaller snack later, before we go out?” Alexia asks.
“I was thinking exactly the same,” I respond and everyone else agrees, pleasing my poor, empty belly.
A short while later, having ordered and opened my cards and gifts, feeling very much the centre of attention - which is quite unnatural for me - our food arrives and I swear I dribble a little when my starter is placed in front of me.
I decided to try something new, and as I’ve never had it before, I went for ‘Chef Carlos’s Gumbo’. It looks incredible, and the description - ‘House Smoked Andouille Sausage, Shrimp and Crawfish’ really made my mouth water. Of course I had to ask my table-mates what ‘Gumbo’ is - the only Gumbo I’ve ever known was the awkward, chubby boy we went to college with… and even that was a nickname, I think…
Oliver chose another dish I have never tried; ‘chowder’. I’ve always been a little put off by the name; it sounds like a cross between something someone has regurgitated, and talcum powder. But it looks absolutely incredible too, and I kind of wish I could have had half portions of both!
“Hey, you’re drooling, stop looking at my food like that…” Oliver says with a smile as he nudges me with his elbow.
I giggle. “Sorry, it just looks so good, everything does. But yours looks lush.”
“Would you like to try a bit, darling?” Oliver asks. ‘Help yourself.” He sits back, allowing me room to lean in and try it.
“Thank you, yes please.” I take a small amount on my spoon. “Mmm! Wow, that’s yummy!”
“Shall we share? Because you know I want to try that Gumbo…”
“Ooh, yay! Yes please!” Thank you Olly!
We continue to eat, greedily, Daniel and Alexia giving us the odd questioning look as to why we’re eating like gannets, and Bea trying to hide a huge grin. I presume, from their reactions, that she hasn't yet told Daniel about what Oliver and I got up to last night, yet.
We have a nice, well timed break between courses, in which we talk about the plans for the rest of the day. As we always make birthdays quite special, the day tends to centre around whoever’s birthday it is. So, as I love the sunshine, after lunch we’ve decided to relax around one of the pools, catch some rays and have a swim, and then go in late afternoon to get ready and have a snack before this evening’s shenanigans.
Entrees arrive at the table and look just as delicious as the starters, although this time, mine looks so good that I don’t want to share with anyone. A petite 6oz filet mignon with a side of buttered baby french green beans. Luckily, I don’t have to share, because Oliver has the same, only his isn’t petite at 9oz, and he has a side of Country Club french fries instead. Mmm, I may have to steal one of those.
I have to say, although everyone’s food looks delicious, I don’t think I have a clue what anyone else ordered, my attention only seems to be on Oliver and I today… how rude. I must wake up out of this Oliver trance and get back to being wide awake, alert Clare.
It’s annoying how he affects me so much when we’ve had one of our ‘moments’; every time, I know nothing is going to go any further, but I seem to have a buzz about me because I’ve had his attention all on me for a little while, and that’s something to treasure - he’s a wonderful man and the very best of friends.
“Someone’s hungry!” Oliver says, chuckling as he looks at me. I realise I really haven’t done anything but scoff my face since the food arrived. Everyone else has been chatting between bites and I’ve been completely oblivious.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I’m super hungry today. What were we talking about?”
Everyone laughs and I feel a little embarrassed, I must look like a pig!
“Don’t worry, darling, we were discussing it being your birthday. You must be on another planet…” Bea says with a big, warm smile. I’m glad she’s not teasing me too much about last night, I get very shy about situations like that, and the fact that she knows is already a huge deal for me.
“Oh, sorry, sorry… what about it?”
“Well,” Oliver starts, “I was saying that I’m looking forward to another, fun, birthday night out with the gang, sadly - minus Tilly and Luke and the others in England, of course. And Alexia was saying how much fun it is that you came to the States so she gets to celebrate with you for the first time.”
I’m shocked, that they really have been having a detailed discussion and I’ve been totally unaware of it. What? Am I totally deaf as well as preoccupied? I gasp. “Oh my… I missed all of that! Well, yes, I’m so looking forward to the rest of the day and tonight, too, and Alexia, I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that we get to spend my birthday together! And thank you to baby Emily, for coming when she did so that fate brought us to Vegas over my birthday.”
“Here, here!” Oliver says, before continuing, “And while we’re giving thanks, I’d like to thank the Universe for having me see sense with the whole ‘Stacy’ situation so that we can all enjoy the day without any tension; that’s a first for me this trip. And also to British Airways for taking her away from here and back to London late last night.”
“And to the poor person who had to sit next to her…” Bea adds and Oliver rolls his eyes.
“That, too.”
We giggle, but me being the pathetic idiot that I am still feels a little sorry for Stupid Stacy. It’s not nice that we’re giggling at her behind her back. Though she did hit me. And she did elbow me in the boob. And she did call me a whore… okay, so maybe I’m not feeling that sorry for her. Bitch.
CHAPTER SIX
TUESDAY 18TH JUNE (CONT.)
Oliver generously and unexpectedly offers to pay for our very perfect lunch, and of course a friendly debate ensues between the two men about who should really be paying. Oliver wins on the basis that Daniel pays for just about everything for everybody - all the time, which really is quite true, and because Oliver would like to pay for
the main birthday meal of his best female friend in the world. He seems particularly pleased at his victory, which is very, very cute. It makes my heart thump a little bit. I love it when men get boyishly excited over unusual things like paying a bill.
We each head up to our rooms to change into our pool attire before meeting again, down by the main pool area. This is not the European pool so we must remember to keep our boobs inside our bikinis at all times, but considering I’ve never sunbathed topless in my life, I don’t think this will be too much of a challenge for me, providing my bikini top behaves.
Alexia is already sunbathing when I arrive at the pool, having found five beds together. She has a stunning figure and - probably because she lives in LA, a fantastic tan. She wears a simple, black one piece, over-sized sunglasses and a huge, floppy hat. The image of sophistication and class. Gosh, I wish I was more like her.
She is laying back with one leg bent, the other outstretched with her toe perfectly pointed and her nails a very simple American polish. Looking at it now, the pure white tips of the French polish seem so garish compared to the softer, less obvious cream. She gets everything right, and having met their mother, I can see where she gets it from.
Oliver is also here ahead of me and he’s pulling off his t-shirt as I approach the beds. I can’t help but ogle at his muscular frame, his gorgeous torso and strong arms. His legs are so… so masculine… they’re hairy, but not too hairy but they’re so shapely - he doesn’t have super skinny ankles or tree trunk legs, they’re toned and perfect. His thighs are just… well… swoon-worthy, overly-sexy, heaven on a knee. Sighs. If only I could push those trunks up just a little further…
I manage to drag my eyes from his rugby-player-thighs to his face in time for him to finish undressing and notice me standing there.
“Hey, sexy,” he says with a huge smile as he looks me up and down. I’m only wearing a floaty cover-up, it’s really not revealing or sexy in the slightest so I’m not sure why he’s staring like that.
