**********
“Feeling better?” Dexter asked as I reached inside the KFC bucket to grab the last piece of chicken. My head had been spinning since the second he helped me off the bike.
“Much. Food solves everything in my world,” I admitted and hoped I didn’t sound like a greedy fat pig. “It’s nothing like in the books though.”
“Books?” he asked, confused.
“Yeah, you know in romance books? The hottest guys always have a bike, and then he takes the girl on her first ride and she laps up the feeling of the wind in her hair. She feels free and excited and all that crap. Whereas I spent the whole time trying not to throw up all over your shoulder.”
“Is that you saying I’m hot?”
“What? No!” I snapped defensively.
“But I thought all the hottest guys had motorcycles?” he teased.
“I said ‘in books’. I mean seriously, in real life half the motorbike owners of the world are fat and balding middle-aged men trying to get back their lost youth.” Dexter was most definitely not one of those men. If I was completely honest with myself he could easily fit into the hot book guy category. I’d die before I’d tell him that though.
I took on the task of chief carpet ripper-up-erer while Dexter set about tackling the sticky stuff. The special formula we got from B&Q (which really was called Sticky Stuff Remover) worked like a charm and with the help of the wallpaper scraper it came off pretty effortlessly. Once the squares of mouldy carpet were all outside in the communal skip, I mopped the floor while Dexter washed down the walls and cupboards.
He grunted and sighed as we worked. The whole place needed redecorating and his couch would probably never be sit-on-able ever again. It was going to cost a few hundred quid at least to sort the mess out and I assumed it was money he didn’t have going off the amount of groans and swear words pouring out of his mouth.
By the time evening drew in I was tired and dirty but I couldn’t remember the last day I’d had so much fun. Funnily enough ‘find a new friend’ isn’t on the New Life List, which is a shame because I would give that an almighty bold tick in a bright standout colour.
“I should get back before Rachel reports me as missing,” I said, feeling disheartened for some unfathomable reason.
“Yeah. She’s not someone I want on my bad side for keeping you out too late,” he joked. Or at least I think he was joking. But then again it was Rachel we were talking about. “Thank you for everything today. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” I declared and meant it wholeheartedly. “You know if you ever get lonely hanging around this place on your own you should come to our place. We’ve got a dry couch after all.” His eyes swept the ground and I knew it was because he’d never take me up on the offer. Like me, he’s not naturally sociable. “Bring Jared too. We could make a night of it.” I don’t really know why I was even asking him. I’ve never made a night of anything. At least not one I’d like to repeat.
“Maybe,” he eventually replied with what looked like regret dulling his eyes. Had I said something wrong? My spirit suddenly felt a little dampened and I started to wish I’d never opened my mouth.
Dexter walked me downstairs to his door and waved me off once I’d got in the car. I smiled all the way home and it made absolutely no sense to me why I was in such a good mood. Maybe because this New Life thing is really happening. I’ve already acquired two great friends in Dexter and Jared, my studies were going better than expected and for the first time I could actually imagine myself being confident enough to start ticking off the boxes on the list.
Yeah, this New Life rules.
After pulling up and getting out of the car I heard smashing sounds coming from inside our flat as I neared the front door. My pulse quickening, I hesitantly opened the door, convinced we were being burgled.
“Bloody hell, Rach what the hell are you doing?” I blared, relief swimming through my veins and slowing my racing heart when I saw Rachel smacking beer bottles against the wooden table in the living room.
“This is art my friend. Or at least it will be when I’ve finished with it,” she answered, never looking up from the carpet of shattered glass. Being an ‘arty type’ this was Rachel’s thing – taking broken, useless or sometimes downright ugly objects and making something she classed as artistic out of them. Maybe it’s just because I wouldn’t know a Picasso if it slapped me in the face, but the time she made a life-sized horse out of wire coat-hangers I couldn’t help flash her my ‘what the actual frig’ face.
“You over last night yet?” I asked, still concerned that she was hiding how she really felt behind her iron mask. The date she was so looking forward to was a disaster. She’d gone out with the intention of sleeping with him because she genuinely fancied him and thought he felt the same, only for him to tell her over dinner that he’d always wanted to Eff You See Kay a disabled person. What a bloody weirdo! Honestly who in their right mind says that?
“Last night?” She was doing this on purpose. She was hurt I know she was – she’d just never admit it, not even to me. Rachel’s biggest fear is being seen as weak or needy – or even worse, treated as being different. I sometimes just wish she’d realise that when it came to me, her best friend, she was allowed to fall apart a little. “So where’ve you been till this hour?” she asked, conveniently changing the subject.
“Helping Dexter clean up his flat after the flood,” I admitted, knowing full well she wouldn’t let this little nugget go unnoticed.
“And you’re really telling me your not lusting after The American?” I noticed a couple of days ago she never uses his real name.
“We’re just friends. We have to study together, I can hardly ignore him,” I protested because it was the truth. I think.
“Whatever, Ho. I give it a month before you’ve fucked his balls off.” If gambling had been on the list I’d have put money on her losing there and then. Being anything more than friends with Dexter was never EVER going to happen for numerous reasons.
· My vajayjay is broken
· We were becoming really good friends and Rachel herself had said that you can’t be friends with someone you’ve slept and broken up with. I’d never risk losing one of the few friends I have over something as unimportant as the S word.
· Jared’s mentioned the word ‘player’ more than once regarding Dexter. He might well be friend material but he’s most definitely not cut out for a relationship and I’m not a ‘one night’ kind of girl.
· Shy, inexperienced girls like me don’t get the brooding hot American on a motorbike anyway.
· Did I mention my vajayjay is broken?
“Emily and Dexter sitting in a tree…” Rachel started singing, interrupting my mental Why I Would Never Sleep With Dexter list. Probably for the best – it could’ve gone on for a while.
“I’d bet money on you sleeping with him before I do. I’m telling you, Rach – not gonna happen.”
“Nah. He may be hot as fuck but I’m still holding out for your brother.” She winked at me and it made my stomach turn queasy. She seriously needs to quit it with the sleeping with my brother talk.
*Gag Alert*
“Damn. I was supposed to call him today,” I remembered. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Stepping over the shards of glass I pulled my phone out of my pocket and made my way to the bedroom. We were never going to get all that glass picked up. There was so much of it I just knew we’d be finding tiny pieces around the place for months to come – like with the pine needles from real Christmas trees. And of course, it wasn’t going to be Rachel’s feet they impaled…
“About time, Emmie. I was beginning to think you’d been taken by aliens,” was the first thing Chris said when he answered the phone.
“Sorry. I’ve been busy that’s all. The student life is quite hard would you believe?”
“I can imagine. Partying all night, sleeping all day and reading the odd book must really take its toll.” I knew he wa
s teasing because along with Rachel, Chris knew me better than anyone.
He asked me how things were going with ‘the barman’ (he didn’t even attempt to hide the distaste in his voice) and practically squealed like a bloody sorority sister when I told him we’d broken up. I didn’t mention Dexter – he’d assume things that were never going to happen just like Rachel. Then he told me about this big deal with a car dealership he’d just landed for his boss and I told him how proud I was of him. He’s going to have his own business one day I just know it.
“So as a reward he’s giving me a week off. There’s even talk of a promotion,” Chris continued. “So I thought seeing as I’ve nothing better to do I might go visit my baby sister if she’ll have me?” I literally jumped off the bed.
“Of course I will!” It’s amazing how much you can miss someone after just a few weeks. I don’t think I realised just how much until he said that. “When are you coming?”
“It’ll be after the weekend. Probably Monday if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure it is! Rachel will be pleased too.” Oh God. I was never going to hear the end of how gorgeous he was. How strong he was. How lickable he was…
Ugh.
“Look I’ve got to run. But I’ll call over the weekend and let you know when I’m coming okay?”
“Okay. Can’t wait.”
“Take care, Emmie.”
“You too, big bro.”
I ran out to tell Rachel the good news the second I hung up the phone.
“Remind me to nip out for some extra-absorbent panty-liners before he gets here.”
“Eww, Rach. Just… Eww.” And with that note I decided a hot shower and an early night were in order. “You need help picking all this crap up before I head to bed?”
“Errm, this ‘crap’,” she air-quoted, “is a masterpiece in the making. And no thanks I’m not done with it yet.”
“Right well I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“Sure will, Ho. Hope you have sexy dreams about The American.” Rolling my eyes for the fifty-billionth time at her, I turned for the bathroom.
“G’night, Rach.”
Chapter Eleven
Dexter
I think it’s pretty safe to say I like the hell outta Emily. I don’t think anyone has ever made me smile so much my whole life as that girl did today. And I swear, watching her on all fours on my floor working up a sweat while she scraped and scrubbed, all I could think about was how much I wish it were me making her glisten like that.
This was a bad thing of course, and I would be monumentally pissed at myself for feeling this way if I didn’t know that there was a perfectly rational reason for it. I’ve not enjoyed a decent fuck in over three weeks – a quick in, out and shake it all about in the men’s room at work just doesn’t cut it. So I knew the only reason I’d had a near permanent hard on looking at Emily today was because I was frustrated, and once I sorted that out tonight, I’d be able to concentrate on us just being friends.
I wasn’t on the roster at work for tonight but I said I’d meet Jared there to hand him his key back. I planned to stay for a drink or two and then head on to a nearby club or bar and check out the talent.
I took a cab to The Blue Apple - it was easier than trying to find somewhere to park the bike - and settled myself down on wrong side of the bar. Fuck knows why Mick didn’t sign me up for tonight because as usual for a Wednesday the place was packed and Jared was rushed off his feet. So much so I ended up getting impatient waiting for my drink and ended up jumping across the bar and fetching my own.
I stuck out waiting for Jared to come join me for twenty minutes or so but when the crowd picked up even further I saw it as my cue to leave before I got roped into helping. Yeah, I know that was pretty shitty of me but I had something much higher on my list of priorities tonight – getting laid before my balls exploded.
After heading into the back room and tucking the key into the pocket of Jared’s jacket I headed out the back door and walked to the nearest bar. Dynamite was even busier than the pub and I had to dodge my way through a mass of intoxicated assholes to get to the bar. When I’d ordered my ginger ale I looked for a spot that was most likely to get me noticed then I perched myself on a barstool in front of the glossy black bar but out the way of the cash registers.
I was getting the familiar winks and smiles before I’d even finished my first drink and I knew right away this wasn’t going to take long. I had a hard time deciding who to smile back at because I still wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Obviously it was a Marshmallow or M & M but both brought their own complications. The decision mainly boiled down to when could I be fucked dealing with said complications. With a Marshmallow it could wait till morning - the point where I’d have to put up with the whole ‘you’ve broken my heart’ puppy eyes. And an M & M meant I’d have to put the effort in tonight and I just didn’t know if I could be bothered talking beforehand. I needed this frustration outta me… fast.
In the end – about four drinks in – I went with the method of picking whoever approached me first. Fuck the rules or the consequences… it’d been too damn long.
“You’re looking a little lonely there. Mind if I join you?” an older woman – mid-forties-ish – with ice-blonde hair curled half way down her back and tits bigger than watermelons said to me.
“I’m really only interested in getting laid,” I retorted, my eyes never leaving my glass. I’m not usually such an ass about it, but I was so frustrated… with everything. In fact fuck frustrated, I was in such a stinking mood I didn’t really know what was bothering me anymore.
“Like I said, mind if I join you?” Wow this chick was eager. Eager enough to get eye-contact from me. My eyes wandered from her face down her arm and to her left hand. They honed in on the faded band-shaped patch of skin circling her wedding finger. I knew immediately she was on the rebound. She wanted a distraction and I was more than happy to help her with that, because I needed one too.
“Your place or mine?” I asked with my best flirting wink.
“I’m actually staying in a hotel just around the corner. We could go there?”
“Sounds good to me,” I replied without hesitation. A hotel huh? This was a new one. A fancy fuck if ever there was one.
As for bagging a cougar? Count. Me. In.
Mrs. Eager had me stripped to my boxers before we’d even reached the bed in her hotel room. Desperate to get on with it I ran my hand along her spine in search of the zipper for her silver dress. Then I pulled it down as fast as my fingers would allow, my lips on hers the entire time – devouring her like I’d never been fed. But holy fuck I was ravenous.
Jesus. Her humongous tits slapped me in the face as I shimmied her dress down. They were obviously fake for three reasons:
· No woman has tits that round
· No woman over the age of thirty can get away with not wearing a bra
· Did I mention they were fucking ginormous?
Being the gentleman that I am I gave them a little attention with my mouth before scooping my pants up off the floor and plucking a condom from my pocket. I carry them everywhere – just in case. It’s one of my rules you see – only use my own stash. You can never be too careful. You read about deranged women pricking holes in them all time.
She pushed me backwards onto the bed and hovered herself over me. Seemed like I was going to get all the fun with none of the effort tonight. As you can imagine, you didn’t hear me complaining. My balls were throbbing by the time she lowered herself on to me. Then I cupped those giant tits in my hands and threw my head back while I waited for all my frustration to melt away. Yeah, this would get Emily outta my head.
Wait up… why the fuck was I thinking about Emily?
I had another woman’s pussy sliding up and down my cock and I was thinking about Emily!
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Of course now I was thinking about Emily I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Her baby-blue ey
es, her pale-cream skin, her fiery-red hair…
“Get a fucking grip,” I muttered silently to myself. Or at least I thought I did.
“What’s that, baby?” Mrs. Eager paused mid-slide and kissed along my stubbled jaw.
“I said grip me tighter.” She appeared pleased with that response and increased her riding speed by a bazillion miles per hour. Ah hell yes, that was doing the trick. I definitely wasn’t thinking about Emily on all fours in my living room anymore.
Fuck.
Even though Mrs. Eager was easy to lose – in fact she pretty much kicked me out when we’d finished - it’s pretty safe to say that was the most frustrating fuck I’ve ever experienced. Ironic really. Maybe even laughable. Except it wasn’t fucking funny. Sex made everything better. The tension, the loneliness, the remembering… so why was I still feeling like something was missing? Maybe I was just tired from all the cleaning. I’ll try again tomorrow.
**********
Me: Day out?
I hit send before I had chance to change my mind. It had been so long since I enjoyed the company of another person and I really enjoyed spending time with Emily, so selfishly I couldn’t stop myself. Yeah I know. This wasn’t going to aid the whole ‘get her out of my head’ plan but somehow I’d managed to convince myself that I could still be her friend by day, and then work my cock off trying to quench the desire to take it further by night.
Emily: ???
Me: I’m bored. Wanna hit the beach?
I was yet to visit a beach over here, neither of us had lectures today and the weather was pretty decent - a little overcast but apparently rain wasn’t on the horizon. So why not? I missed the coast. Staring out towards a never-ending ocean never fails to remind you just how insignificant you are. If you think you’ve got problems – ever get too wrapped up in your own self-importance – visit the beach and you’ll see exactly how small a part you actually play in this enormous world.
Take My Hand Page 8
