The Do-Gooder

by Jessie L. Star

  "But it's not so much about that," she continued clutching her hands together tightly in her lap. "I mean, the mechanics of the sex itself was OK, but I felt...disconnected. And then afterwards we were both lying there and it was so weird. I mean what do you say after that?"

  "Oh, sweetie." Merry leant across and hugged her, in much the same way she had with me only a few minutes earlier. "That's OK, that's totally normal."

  "Is it?"

  "Yeah, course it is! First time I had sex I freaked out midway through and kicked the guy I was with off me so hard I left a bruise." Merry made a face. "It took me ages to start properly enjoying it."

  "I had the opposite problem," Stefano moaned. "I came before I'd even touched my first guy. I was too into it."

  Livvy smiled slightly and then all three of them looked to me. Reluctantly taking my cue, I muttered, "I got so bored I started planning what outfit I’d wear to a party that weekend."

  "Typical!" Merry laughed, and the gloom from Livvy's glum assessment of her performance lifted from our table like a grey sheet had been whipped off us.

  Leaving the three of them to continue to chat about their sexual experiences, I sat back, disengaging myself from the conversation.

  I'd failed in Livvy's good deed, I realised. Despite the books and videos, diagrams and real life biology lessons, she'd been unprepared for her first time with Taylor. But how do you teach that moment when it's all over and you're suddenly just two faintly sweaty people who've exchanged bodily fluids? It probably ranged from excruciatingly embarrassing to blissfully fulfilling depending on who you were with, but my experience, extensive as it was, sat outside that.

  I, as Fletch had accused me of doing the previous week, just left after sex. I refused to think of it as running away, but the fact was that I'd never had to deal with what happened after intercourse. From memory, I hadn't really had to deal too much with what came before, either, as the conversation had usually only consisted of a brief 'you, let's go' before we got into the main event.

  Whilst the validation from a good deed was one that I felt all the way down to my toes, knowing that I'd failed in one was something I felt solidly in my stomach. I had to do better.

  And, on that note, I took a glance at my watch and saw that the time I was due to pick Saskia up for her lift to Za-Za's was rapidly approaching. Loathe, more than anything, to be the one to mess up that situation, I stood, the movement making the other three break off their conversation and stare up at me.

  "I'm sorry I stuffed your deed, Livvy," I said, my tone sounding awkwardly formal, even to my ears. Apologies had never been my strong suit.

  Still, I'd said my piece and went to leave, only for there to be a round of complaints from the table and, in the next second, for Stefano and Merry each to have grabbed one of my hands.

  "You didn't stuff it!" Livvy exclaimed while I tugged at the restraints and glared at my captors. "Honestly, Lara, I was so much more confident than I would've been if I hadn't had your help."

  "You don't get to just rush off, anyway, sugar-cakes." Stefano gave a sharp yank and I found myself back down in my chair.

  "Yeah," Merry agreed. "We want to hear all about you and Fletch."

  "You don't always get what you want," I replied between gritted teeth. I'd ceased my struggling, but only because other people in the ref were starting to look over.

  "Wait, you're with Fletch?" Livvy asked, breathlessly.

  "Definitely not," I replied, at the same time Merry said,

  "Sort of." My glower deepened, but Merry simply shrugged, unrepentant. "Well, you are."

  Not wanting to talk about my arrangement with Fletch, but loathe to allow Merry to define it, I gave a quick run-down on the circumstances to a wide-eyed Livvy and Stefano.

  "Well, I think that makes perfect sense," Stefano said decidedly once I'd finished.

  "You do?" Livvy, Merry and I chorused disbelievingly.

  "Yes." He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin into his palm as he eyed me, considering. "If you'd continued to just ignore your insane chemistry, finished up uni and gone on your merry ways you'd never have known if you could have made a go of it. It would've always been in the back of your mind, that 'what if?'"

  He'd put it much more eloquently than either Fletch or I had managed. But still..."We're not making a go of it," I said in frustration. "It's just-"

  "Sex, yeah, you said." Merry waved her hand dismissively, but then something seemed to occur to her and she leant across the table towards me with a sudden intensity. "You know something, La-La? I don't think you even really know Fletch."

  Whatever form of attack I'd been expecting, it wasn't this. I gaped at her for a moment before remembering myself and swiftly rearranging my expression into something a little less gormless.

  "I know him," I said grimly.

  "Do you?" Merry asked sceptically. "Like, who he is now? Because, from what I've seen over the past few years, you've mostly just had sniping little arguments about you doing your good deeds and him thinking they're stupid. Do you even know what he's studying here?"

  "Marine Ecology," I said promptly, wondering in the next moment how I'd known that.

  "OK, but do you know why he's studying it?"

  I went to snap 'do I care?' back, but a primary school level retort was only destined to get me in further trouble, so I forced myself to consider her question.

  "He surfs," I said, after a moment. "That's his thing, so I guess anything with 'marine' in it is going to appeal."

  "Maybe," Merry agreed. "I mean it could be as basic as that, or maybe his childhood dream is to work in that field. Or he was visited by a dreamtime guide just before applying to uni who told him it was his destiny, you don't know."

  "Sure, OK, I don't know the exact reason Fletch is studying Marine Ecology, but the point is that I don't really care." Even as I spoke, though, I knew that wasn't quite right. A minute or so ago it would've been 100 percent accurate, but now Merry had harped on about it, I had to admit to feeling the slightest twinge of curiosity.

  "So, humour me," the sly look was back in Merry's eye. "Actually have a conversation with Fletch, an honest to God conversation, and find out."

  "What he's studying? That's stupid," I bit back immediately. "I'm not doing that."

  "Do I detect a little fear in your voice?" Merry's needling tone hooked barbs into my skin; Stefano and Livvy all but forgotten. "Is big, bad Lara scared of just talking to the guy she's having sex with? What are you worried about? That the second you find out even something as non-intrusive as why he's studying his chosen course you'll fall head over heels for him and lose your screw-buddy?"

  "Of course not," I snarled, fists clenching under the table.

  "So...?"

  I shot to my feet again, fury pulsing through my veins so hard I could feel the angry thump in my temples and the balls of my thumbs.

  "You know what? Fine! I'll find out why Fletch is doing his stupid course and listen to his no doubt incredibly mundane response." I slung my bag across my shoulder, but paused for a second to finish, "It'll be a waste of my time and his, but if it'll shut you up then, fine."

  I went to stalk off, but my dramatic departure was spoilt as a thick group of students bustled past. It only delayed my exit for a split second, but that was long enough to hear Merry as she murmured, "Too much?"

  And to catch Stefano's low reply, "Just enough."

  ----------

  It had been a long shift at the aquatic centre and Fletch had somehow been conned into teaching the 'tadpole' class, his least favourite. Still, somehow that day, the group of squealing 5 year olds and their overprotective hover-parents hadn't given him as much of a headache as usual.

  As he exited the staff changing room, towel slung around his neck, he smiled to himself as he considered that sexual release was just the gift that kept on giving.

  "Hey, Fletch."

  His blood had started to pound harder through his body after even s
uch a fleeting reminder of that morning in the studio, and it took him a moment to realise someone had spoken to him. As it registered, however, he pulled up short and looked across to the front desk where Millie was revealed, beaming over at him.

  "Hey, Mil, how's it going?" He asked, the nicety coming automatically despite his desire to get home.

  "Pretty good." Millie sashayed round the counter and came towards him, her hips undulating as she stretched each leg out like she was on a catwalk. "Yourself?"

  He watched her provocative approach warily and kept his voice deliberately non-committal as he replied, "Not too bad."

  If she'd picked up on his verbal step back, she certainly gave no indication of it, as she asked, "You coming out for a drink tonight?"

  "Nah, don't reckon." From being so relaxed a moment ago, Fletch was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable. Lara's overt sexuality he was used to; it was a defensive weapon she employed when threatened. The way Millie was leaning towards him, though, felt distinctly offensive, even predatory. Still, she was a workmate, and he'd always got along fairly well with her, so he forced himself to add civilly, "You have a good one, though."

  He went to move once more towards the exit, but she angled her body to keep him before her and he knew he was trapped. As Millie opened her plush mouth again he wanted to tell her to stop, to quit whilst she was ahead, before she embarrassed the both of them. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of a way to phrase that without sounding like a total dick and hurting her feelings, so she ploughed on unhindered.

  "It could just be you and me," she smiled. "The drink, I mean."

  And there it was.

  "Thanks," he said flatly, "but I'm good." He winced at how bluntly the words came out, but knew, at least, that he would've left Millie in no doubt that he wasn't interested.

  "Is it because of her?"

  He'd headed for the sliding doors leading to the car park, thinking neither of them would've wanted him to stick around after his outright rejection, but Millie's question stopped him in his tracks. Stomach sinking, he slowly turned back to face her and ask, "What?"

  "That Lara girl," Millie pushed, and she didn't sound like the sweet, friendly girl he knew anymore, she sounded hard. "She came to my thing a few weeks back and people were talking about how you and her are all..." She seemed to think he was going to finish her sentence, but when he stayed silent and unresponsive, she picked up the slack. "It's not gonna work out, you know. Girls like her don't suit guys like you. You're such a good guy and I heard that she..."

  And off she went, spewing out a litany of stories that got more ridiculous and offensive by the second. Unable to find a break in her tirade, and knowing that Lara wouldn't exactly thank him for making a scene on her behalf anyway, Fletch made once more towards the exit, not wanting to hear anymore.

  "You're not listening, Fletch!"

  Alright, enough! He'd given her an out, just tried to walk away, but at the petulant note in her voice, he found himself freezing.

  "Yeah, I'm not listening," he agreed tightly, his hand gripping the turnstile that led out of the building. "I pretty much shut off at 'girls like her'. What kind of crap is that, Millie? You know Lara, do you? Ever had a conversation with her? Know anything other than the bull that other people have fed you? No? Then drop it."

  "Fletch-" He heard the tremble in her voice, the shake that suggested Millie's large brown eyes would be filled with tears, and felt his shoulders slump. He hadn't meant to upset her, but he'd be damned if he was going to apologise.

  "Look," he made himself say quietly, "I'll see you tomorrow." And then, finally, he strode out into the car park before she could say anything else.

  He'd just reached his car, hands still shaking with anger, when his phone beeped. Digging it out of his pocket he looked down to see that Lara had sent him a message: Twice in one day is overkill, but if you insist...

  He'd forgotten about Millie already.

  Chapter 14 – The Hero Complex

  I was going to kill Merry. Her and Livvy both. Them with their 'ask Fletch what he's studying' and 'what do you say afterwards?' crap. It was entirely their fault that I was laying there, next to Fletcher, with absolutely no clue how to transition us from just plain fucking to a fucking conversation.

  It hadn't been that difficult earlier in the day. Then there'd been a damaged skirt to blame on Fletch, not to mention the neutral environment, and fact that it was the middle of the day and we both had places to be. I didn't have any of those luxuries now, though. No, now we were in my room, it was the evening, and I had a horrible suspicion that neither of us had any other plans for the rest of the night.

  My bed was a king single, plenty big enough for just me, much too small for the both of us. Still, I was doing a good job of keeping my distance, despite the cramped quarters. Fletch was behind me nearest the wall, one arm under his head, the other across his stomach, apparently content to just lie there. I, however, had turned my back to him almost immediately as the deed had been done and was facing the door, balanced on the edge of the mattress.

  I could still feel him, though, all muscle and heat behind me, and it took a great deal of effort to continue focusing on plotting Merry's downfall. It was effort doomed to go to waste, however, because my focus was blown to hell when Fletch muttered, "Shouldn't you be kicking me out about now?"

  I jerked slightly in response to his low rumble of a voice, almost toppling off the edge of the bed. Annoyed at my reaction, I snapped, "Do you want me to?"

  "Not particularly," there was a definite vein of amusement running through his voice, "although you not forcibly ejecting me is kind of unnerving."

  I'll give you unnerving, I thought, beginning to twist to tell him he could bugger right off, but then remembering that I'd been the one to text him to come over, and more importantly, why.

  I hadn't been convinced that two hook ups in one day fit our casual parameters, but once Merry had all but dared me to find out about Fletch's course, I knew I had to just get it over with. Unable to justify any sort of interaction with him without sex as a mediator, I'd sent that text to summon him.

  It'd been annoying, but not altogether surprising, to discover that the chemistry that had prompted this whole situation could bear the weight of twice in one day just fine. Still, there’d been a point to the second round, a point that would’ve been made invalid by chucking Fletch to the curb now.

  Taking a deep breath, I counted to three and then growled, "Well, suck it up."

  Silence descended once more and I'd just started to scheme a way to organically bring up Marine Ecology when Fletch butted in again to say, "This is different."

  Oh for God's sake, what had got him so bloody chatty?

  "What is?"

  "Us being horizontal, it's a first," he replied calmly.

  For a moment I was unsure what he meant, but then, looking down at both our pairs of legs rumpled in my white sheets, it suddenly made terrible sense.

  He was right; it was our first time being together horizontally. Every other time we'd been snatching a spare second for a quick in and out before rushing off to do something else; a timeframe that had always resulted in, for want of a better expression, vertical fornication.

  My chest clenched at the significance. I'd been so busy focusing on the task ahead, I hadn't realised we'd so dramatically broken the pattern. Our activities a few minutes ago hadn't been a quickie hastily performed in some random location. It had been planned, it had been in a freaking bed, my bed. Thank God I'd still managed to distract him from any significant foreplay and was still wearing my bra, otherwise it would really have started to approach something that it most definitely was not.

  "Well, be sure to write it in your journal," I said snarkily, scrambling to recover the situation. "Dear diary, today I finally got to try out the missionary position and Lara let me lie down next to her afterwards for 10 whole seconds, my life is now complete."

  "Piss off," he laughed, good-nature
dly.

  It was this good-natured stuff that was really beginning to bug me. Ever since I'd started having sex with him he'd become almost impossible to rile. It was very frustrating. What had happened to the guy who had turned up at my door only a few weeks ago accusing me of selling drugs to his little sister?

  The memory of that day, of the way he had glared at me in total assurance of what a shit person I was, was enough to make me put an end to the cosy, but more importantly fake, tête-à-tête he seemed determined to have.

  Who had I been kidding trying to think up some way to naturally ask Fletch about his course? The whole thing was so decidedly unnatural I didn't need to bother with that kind of softening. It was time to just get it over with.

  "You're studying Marine Ecology, right?" I asked bluntly, settling myself still more firmly onto my side facing away from him.

  There was the briefest pause and then Fletch said, "Segues really aren't your thing, hey?"

  "Yes or no?"

  "Yes, I'm studying Marine Ecology."

  OK, he was clearly laughing at me, exactly what I'd been worried about. Still, I was close to just getting it done with, so I made myself hammer the final nail in my coffin. "Why?"

  I heard the rustle of my bedclothes as Fletch turned to look at me, but didn't give him the courtesy of meeting his, no doubt questioning, gaze. I waited, warily, very much aware that he hadn't immediately thrown out some glib response like 'it was the first thing I saw in the course book'.

  "Well?" I asked, when a reply failed to materialise after a couple of seconds.

  "I thought we weren't doing deep and meaningful?" He said slowly, his breath brushing against the back of my neck.

  I stiffened and started to pull away and the humour faded from his voice as he said, "Hey, come back, I'm sorry." Then, thwarting my attempt at flight, his arm snuck around my waist and pulled me firmly back against his chest.

  "I'm studying Marine Ecology," he said lowly into my ear as I was suffused with his warmth, "because it matters."

  I made a disbelieving sort of noise at the back of my throat. "Deep," I said sarcastically.