Never Again

by Lilliana Anderson

  Our driver cleared his throat, either getting a little hot and bothered by our conversation, or just reminding us that he was there. I caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror and felt my cheeks burn. I was so thankful when he looked away.

  “No,” I whispered, trying to keep this conversation as private as possible.

  “No!” Olivia yelled.

  I slapped her on the arm with the back of my hand. “Shhhh!” I hissed, side-eyeing the driver when Olivia frowned at me and rubbed her arm. “We have an audience.”

  “Oh God. Who cares? He drives an Uber on a Friday night. I assure you, this man has heard everything. Right, er”—she paused and looked at the Uber app on her phone—“Glen?”

  “This is the first vibrator conversation I’ve been privy to,” he replied.

  Olivia looked momentarily dumbfounded then lifted her shoulders dismissively. “Then you need this education just as much as Cora does. Sex toys are the cornerstone of the adult relationship. Without them, life in the bedroom gets stale, bland even. Singles need them to get their rocks off when they don’t score, or worse, when they do score and their partner fails to do their due diligence—it’s always important to make sure the lady comes first, Glen. Remember that.” Glen nodded, now listening eagerly. I, personally, wanted to slide down into the seat and disappear. I needed this to be over.

  Of course, Olivia continued. “And couples need them to keep the interest levels up. There’s only a finite number of ways you can have sex with the same person, and long-term couples get so good at getting each other off that it becomes a five-minute window of perfunctory movement that isn’t satisfying despite the orgasm. Toys give couples something new and interesting to do together, upping the ante a little and making something old feel new again. Do you have a significant other, Glen?”

  “No. I’m in between girlfriends at the moment.”

  “Do you have a fleshlight?”

  “A…?” He let the question hang in the air. I assumed he was as clueless as I was about this fleshlight thing.

  “It’s a vagina in a tube that looks like a flashlight. I hear they’re amazing. Do yourself a favour, Glen. Get one.”

  “Oh…OK,” he stuttered. “Ah…we are here.”

  “Fantastic,” Olivia replied, slipping him a fifty.

  “You’ve already paid.”

  “I know. This is for you to put towards your new toy. Just promise to think of me the first time you use it.” Giving him a wink and a smile, she got out of the car.

  “Please don’t think of me,” I added, following behind, feeling a little grossed out by the whole discussion, but not enough to forget my manners. “Oh, and thanks for the lift.”

  “Have a good night!” Glen called after us, the sound muted as Olivia slammed the car door with a laugh.

  “Wasn’t he a gem?” She waved as he drove off.

  “You are so embarrassing,” I grumbled, beginning to wonder why on earth I thought going out with her was a good idea. While we were best friends in every other area of life, where men were concerned, we were polar opposites. Olivia went through them like Kleenex and I, well, didn’t go through them at all. I kept them. Well, I thought I did. And the only reason I was standing in front of a nightclub, on the verge of getting a divorce was because he couldn’t keep his goddamn dick in his pants. I wanted to scream.

  “Let’s get inside,” Olivia said, hurriedly grabbing my arm. “You look like you’re about to scream.” She was as perceptive as she was ruthless.

  “I am. I’m really angry all of a sudden.” I was shaking. I’d spent the last few months crying and devastated, and now all of that emotion had manifested into white-hot anger. I needed to let it out.

  The moment the club’s music wrapped around my body in a welcomed, thick wall of sound, I tipped my head back and released, screaming into the thumping air until I was forced to take a breath.

  “Now, drink this.” Olivia handed me a shot glass as she yelled near my ear to be heard over the music.

  “What is it?” And where did she get it?

  “No idea. I took it from that tray over there.” I glanced over to see some guy frowning at a tray of shots, now missing a couple. “Quick, before he sees.” Olivia tipped the clear liquid down her throat and I followed suit. Vodka. It burned like a bitch on the way down, but sat hot in my belly with the drinks we had earlier. It made me feel instantly calmer.

  “I have two words for you, Cora: revenge sex.”

  I nodded. A part of me agreed with her, but the rest wasn’t sure sex was the answer to my problems the way it seemed to be for her. But then, the alcohol in my system was starting to make this nightclub look like a fun place to be. So, maybe, just maybe she was right?

  Olivia took the shot glass from my hands and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Now, we dance.”

  3

  I’d never been to a nightclub while single. Jack and I started dating in our final year of high school, and we were joined at the hip throughout university. When we’d gone clubbing with friends, it was always together. On the dance floor, he had been my partner. How do I do this without him to guide me?

  Even though I was angry and hurt, I felt a pang of longing too. I missed what we once were—well, what I thought we were. I was single. I felt lost and unsure of my place in this world.

  My self-appointed guide to singledom took hold of my hands and rolled her shoulders back in time with the music, coaxing me to move with her. She smiled encouragingly, releasing me the moment I started to move on my own. Then she turned in a circle, her arms above her head as she rocked and swayed.

  Olivia had moves, her body seeming to ripple along with the beat of the music. I tried to copy what she was doing, but it felt more like a seal trying to do the caterpillar on soft sand than the lithe motions Olivia was exhibiting. I kept going though, the alcohol making its way through my veins as the lights flashed around me, pink and blue, red and white, a flashing rhythm. As each song melted into the next, the dancing bodies became an energy I could connect with, causing my movement to soften. I threw my arms in the air and let my dark hair swish from side to side, brushing against my exposed back. My skin felt alive, the thrumming beat vibrating in my chest, persuading my hips to sway and sway. I had no idea how long we’d been on that dance floor, but I was beginning to feel a freedom I’d never experienced before. I was losing myself and relaxing against the rhythm. It was…liberating.

  Just as I was beginning to understand why Olivia loved coming here so much, a set of unknown hands landed on my waist and a hard, unwelcome body pressed against the back of mine. What the hell?

  Glancing over my shoulder, I found some random guy I didn’t find even remotely attractive, rubbing himself against the curve of my arse. With wide eyes, I silently begged Olivia for help. She laughed and leaned in close. “He’s not hot enough for you. Let’s go get a drink. My feet are killing me.”

  I nodded emphatically, then followed behind her when she took my hand and pulled me through the crowd. I chanced a glance back at my dance partner and saw him move on to the next poor unsuspecting girl.

  “Thanks for the save,” I said when we made it to the bar.

  “Just make sure you do the same for me. I only want tall and gorgeous hands touching this fine body.” She ran her hands down the sides of her figure, making me laugh.

  “Deal.”

  Seeming to know the bartender, Olivia was served quickly and came back with two vodka martinis. “Let’s sit.”

  Finding a couch unoccupied, we sat and watched the room, taking a well-deserved breather. Seeing all the young and drunk faces that barely looked old enough to be out of high school, I suddenly felt like an imposter, a chaperone at a high school dance. I was a lawyer nearing the big three-oh. My party days were behind me. I spent my life working on cases that painted nightclubs as the starting point for dozens of assaults and drug charges. It felt almost inappropriate for me to be here—especially when I was already benched over this stup
id intervention order.

  “Do you come here a lot?” I asked, wondering if I looked as much of an intruder as I felt.

  “Are you hitting on me?” Olivia shot back with a cheeky grin.

  “No.” I laughed. “Just asking a question.”

  “It’s my favourite club.” Olivia wiggled her fingers and smiled at some guy I couldn’t make out in the sea of darkened faces.

  “I feel old being here,” I told her, leaning over to adjust the new shoes that were beginning to hurt my feet.

  “That’s because your perspective is messed up from being married your whole life. So, I’m not surprised.”

  “It was only a year. We were dating for eight years before he proposed, engaged for two years, then married for one.”

  “Well, that right there, should have told you something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It took him eight years to propose. It means he was waiting to see if something better came along.”

  My head snapped back. Was she serious? “Maybe we were just taking it slow?”

  With her eyebrows lifted, she gave me a look that told me not to be so naïve. Deep down, I knew she was right. Did he ever really love me? Or did he just settle because I was there, available? How many other women had he ‘tried out’ to see if they were better than me?

  “Do you seriously think that Jack-Arse is sitting at home stuffing his face with food and feeling sorry for himself? No. He’s probably fucking Slutty-Sally while searching through Tinder for his next conquest.”

  My stomach souring, I downed the rest of my drink. She was probably right. I hated that. “I think I need another.” Standing without waiting for a response, I headed straight for the bar and pushed my way to the front, without a care for the other people waiting. “Vodka martini. Actually, no. Tequila. Four shots.” I held up my fingers.

  The barman nodded and got to work. I put my head in my hands and growled. Coming out was a terrible idea. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready to be in public yet. How was I supposed to have revenge sex when I couldn’t stop feeling angry over what my husband had done? It didn’t present itself as a scintillating conversation starter.

  “Shitty night?” The guy next to me spoke close to my ear, his voice deep but soft.

  “Shitty life.” When I turned, I was met with the most devastatingly green eyes I’d ever seen. “Are those contacts?” I blurted, pointing like an imbecile.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “All mine.”

  “They’re super g—”

  “Green, I know. I see them in the mirror every day.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I’ve been drinking, obviously.”

  “I figured. It is a bar. Drinking is part of the package.”

  I smiled, suddenly feeling stupid despite my extensive schooling. “Right.” My drinks were placed in front of me and I pulled out my credit card to pay for them.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, handing a fifty to the barman.

  “Oh no. Don’t do that.”

  He grinned. “I don’t mind. You look like you could use a break.”

  “I could use a time machine,” I muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Thank you for the drinks.” I leaned closer so he could hear this time, I could feel the heat of his body.

  “My pleasure. Enjoy your night.” He winked at me then took a mouthful of the amber-coloured drink in front of him as he pocketed his change. My stomach did a strange dancey kind of thing when he looked at me—he was gorgeous with a capital G.

  “Do you…” I paused, trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next. It felt kind of odd accepting the drinks then walking away, and I really wanted to keep the conversation going. He was in the ‘hot as hell’ category with those divine eyes and full lips. His hair looked blond, or maybe light brown—I couldn’t tell in the overly red lighting—and it was a little on the long side, but it suited him. When he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks, and his eyes creased a little at the corners, leading me to believe he wasn’t quite as young as the majority of the nightclub’s patrons—twenty-five, perhaps? Twenty-five and totally fuckable.

  Did I seriously just think that? It sounded like Olivia was getting in my head. But it was true. He was absolutely stunning, and having him smile at me made me nervous in the best possible way.

  “Do I…?” He narrowed one eye, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

  “Want…one?” I pointed to the shots.

  He grinned again. There were those dimples. Now my chest was dancing. “They’re all yours, babe. No strings attached.” With another wink, he threaded his way through the crowd until I couldn’t see him anymore. Don’t go, handsome stranger. Maybe I want some strings attached.

  Hmm, seemed I was pretty shitty at this whole flirting thing. It wasn’t something I’d practiced. Jack and I had simply clicked then settled into a relationship with each other.

  Deflated, I turned back to the bar and downed two of the shots, coughed from the burn, then took the remaining two shots back to Olivia, who was engaged in a very close conversation with a dark-haired guy who had his hand on her knee. He seemed to fit her tall and gorgeous criteria.

  “This is Paul,” she informed me when I took a seat and handed her a shot. We clinked glasses and downed the acrid liquid. “Whoo. That one is going to go straight to my head.” She turned to Paul. “Will you be a dear and get me some water?” She pouted and he was more than happy to oblige. The moment he left, she spoke in my ear. “I’ve slept with him before. He’s returning for seconds.”

  “You going to oblige?” The new alcohol was mixing unkindly with my previous drinks and surging throughout my body. I was buzzing all over. That’s more like it. A calm fell over me as my mind struggled to keep focus and all thoughts of my philandering husband were unable to take hold in my drunken mind.

  “Who knows? Maybe some other time. Tonight is about you. I don’t want you getting all drunkenly mopey because that arsehole broke your heart. Tonight is about you taking your life back and reclaiming your sexuality. You’re a gorgeous woman with a beautiful heart and a kick-arse career. You have everything going for you—don’t forget that.”

  I lifted my brows, giving her a doubtful look. She made me sound amazing. “Is this when you tell me I’m a queen?” I asked, remembering her favourite pep-talk moniker.

  “You are,” she insisted. “Just look at all those men out there. They actually think they deserve to get laid by the hottest chick they can find. Why isn’t it the same for us?”

  I shrugged. “Because we’re women.”

  “No. Because we were raised to believe that being open about your desires is wrong, that being career driven is wrong. They want us to be subservient girlfriends, wives and mothers. But we don’t have to fit their mould, Cora. We can do everything we want and we can have our cake too—just like the men. You need to realise how gorgeous and amazing you are. Believe it, and use that confidence the same way they do.”

  The way she spoke about feminine power made me want to be that amazing, confident person. Actually—and maybe it was the alcohol talking—once I thought about it, I really was that amazing. I did have all those qualities Olivia just rattled off. I wouldn’t exactly call myself gorgeous, but I certainly wasn’t ugly. I was curvy, but I had a tiny waist, and from what Instagram was telling me, that was a very fashionable quality to have these days. So, I could hold my own. “You’re right,” I told her, my tongue starting to feel a little thick in my mouth. “I’m a fucking catch. I don’t have to be some guy’s wife to know who I am.” Someone, please, fetch me a soapbox.

  “Right, you are. Marriage blows. Staying single is the only way a woman should be.”

  “Right. Relationships are for chumps.”

  Reaching for the martini she’d barely touched, she poured half of it in my empty glass and held it out to me. “A toast.” I held my glass up with hers. “Never again,” she said, a deter
mined glint in her eyes.

  I could feel that same determination surge inside me as I touched my glass to hers. “Never again,” I echoed, feeling the power of those two simple words hitting me in the centre of my chest. Being cheated on felt like shit. I would never allow myself to be in that situation again. Olivia really did have the right idea. She was the happiest person I knew, and didn’t apologise for anything. I needed to take a page out of her book and focus on number one for a change—myself.

  “Now, tell me, who was that delicious morsel you were talking to at the bar?”

  I smiled. He really was gorgeous. “You saw that?”

  “He’d be the perfect man to wipe the slate clean. Did you get his name?”

  I shook my head. “He paid for the drinks and said ‘no strings attached’ then left. I’m not even sure if he’s still here.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Interesting.”

  Paul returned with two bottles of water, handed one to Olivia and one to me. I definitely needed it, my brain felt like it was being pickled from the amount of alcohol that was in my system. Once we thanked him, Paul smiled and gestured that it was no problem then sat next to Olivia and draped his arm behind her. He leaned close and murmured something in her ear that had her smiling and wriggling in her seat.

  I was in awe of her ability to be so confident in her life while still oozing sex appeal. She owned her position at work, commanded respect the moment she entered a room. Olivia was a woman who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t accept anything less. I could learn a lot from her.

  While sipping my water, I continued scanning the crowd, quietly wondering if Green-eyes from the bar was anywhere in the room. He really was someone I could imagine myself ‘wiping the slate clean’ with. My attraction to him was instant, and I was in the perfect mood to explore that—drunk and needy. I needed the attentions of a man who could make me forget about my husband. Right now, it felt like it would fix everything.

  Getting comfortable, I leaned back in the seat, admiring the young bodies as they gyrated collectively. There were so many beautiful people, and I wondered if any of them had any clue how simple their life was right now. They were in the most exciting part of their lives where the future held nothing but possibilities. Hope was abundant and fairy tales felt like they could come true. I wanted to feel that way again.