Faking It: The most hilarious and laugh out loud page turner you’ll read this year!

by Rebecca Smith

‘What the hell is going on?’ I hiss. ‘What is her side-hustle?’

  ‘Okay.’ Cassie pulls me away from the living room door. ‘So, you know how in the Eighties, people used to have parties at home where they’d get shown a load of stuff and then have the opportunity to buy it?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘Are you telling me that you thought you’d cheer me up by throwing a Tupperware party?’

  Cassie shakes her head. ‘Not quite but it’s the same premise. Just a bit sexier. And Sandra is going to be demonstrating kinky gadgets, not kitchen gadgets.’

  I stare at her and then the penny finally drops.

  ‘You’ve organised a sex party?’ I gasp. ‘In my home? What the hell were you thinking? Miss Pritchard is probably going to have a heart attack – she hasn’t been out in twenty years and this is the last thing that she’s going to be expecting.’

  ‘I was thinking that you needed to have a laugh,’ Cassie retorts. ‘And also that this was a great way to get you to lighten up a bit. I don’t want to offend you, Hannah – but that stuff you were saying the other day about guilty pleasures was a bit straitlaced. I’m not sure that you’re in the right place emotionally to write erotica, or to speak at Sex Con. It’s a big deal, you know?’

  I stare at her, speechless. She is voicing my every fear.

  ‘So that’s why I invited Sandra,’ she continues. ‘Come on. Live a little.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I have a choice, do I?’ I say snarkily. ‘Not when she’s currently setting up her S&M party on my living room rug.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Hun!’ Cassie takes hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘And you never know, you might end up enjoying yourself.’

  I strongly suspect that fun is the last thing I will be having but Cassie is pulling me towards the living room and I have no choice but to join her. Gritting my teeth, I brace myself for whatever horror show is about to explode in front of me.

  However, all appears to be tranquil for the moment. Pru and Miss Pritchard are having what looks like a nice, normal chat while Lori and Isobel listen to Allegra witter on about something that I am thankfully too far away to hear. Sandra is kneeling on the floor, busying herself with some innocuous-looking items of clothing and the room has the gentle buzz of people who are engaged in lovely, perfectly ordinary conversation.

  There is not even a whiff of sex in the air.

  ‘See,’ says Cassie, topping up my wine glass. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘If everyone would like to gather round, then we can make a start,’ calls Sandra. ‘I think there’s enough room for you all to sit down.’

  Allegra marches across to the comfy armchair and settles down as if it’s her rightful throne. Cassie goes round topping up everyone’s glass before squeezing next to Lori and the two older women on the sofa. I gesture Isobel towards the smaller sofa and sit next to her.

  It’s party time.

  ‘Now, I’m going to break you all in gently so don’t worry!’ quips Sandra. ‘We’re going to start nice and slowly by looking at this season’s top range of bedroom attire.’

  She holds up a peach-coloured negligee that looks suspiciously flammable and wouldn’t be out of place at a 1970s fancy dress party.

  ‘Oh, I used to have one just like that,’ sighs Pru. ‘Mr Knight used to call it my “come-hither” nightie.’

  I take a healthy slug of wine and pretend that I didn’t hear her.

  ‘I’m sorry, what is this?’ says Allegra, as Sandra holds up something hideous in nylon.

  ‘It’s a babydoll nightie,’ explains Sandra. ‘Very sensual, as I think you’ll agree. The peach tones would go wonderfully with your complexion.’

  ‘No.’ Allegra puts her drink down and stares across the room at me. ‘What is this?’

  She waves her hand expansively, taking in Sandra, the other guests, the entire room.

  This shit-show is my life, Allegra, thanks for asking.

  I look towards Cassie for support but she’s hiding behind her wine glass. Not well enough to hide the smirk on her face though, the cow.

  ‘We’ve invited Sandra here to show us her…err…her…’ I stare at Sandra, willing her to wade in and help me out, and unlike my evil best friend, she actually gets the message.

  ‘I do women-only parties, love,’ she tells Allegra. ‘The way it works is that I show you the lingerie and the toys and if you want to purchase anything at the end then you can. And then I give a percentage of the sales to the hostess for her to spend on any of the items that I’ve demonstrated.’

  I do not like the sound of a demonstration.

  ‘Did she say that she was going to be showing us some toys?’ bellows Miss Pritchard, sitting forward. ‘Because I don’t know any small children so I might as well leave now.’

  ‘I think they’re sex toys,’ shouts Pru. ‘From what I can gather, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, sex toys,’ says Miss Pritchard, settling back into her seat and finally relinquishing her hold on her handbag. ‘Lovely.’

  Allegra glares at me and Cassie splutters some of her wine back into the glass.

  ‘I’m going to kill you,’ I silently mouth at her.

  Sandra holds up another pastel-coloured item of nightwear in a strange fabric and we all make polite, appreciative noises. The atmosphere in the room is stilted and it is this more than anything else that makes me get up and start creeping round, filling up everyone’s glasses again.

  ‘Oh, no thanks,’ whispers Isobel when I reach her. ‘I’ll stick to the Nosecco.’

  I smile and nod because of course I respect her right to make her own decisions when it comes to drinking but good god, if ever an occasion called for alcohol then it has absolutely got to be this one.

  Sandra carries on for a few more minutes and then puts the last piece of lingerie back in the bag and claps her hands.

  ‘Right then – it’s time for an icebreaker game! Drink up ladies and get ready to use your brains!’

  ‘Not much call for an icebreaker in a house without an ice machine,’ mutters Allegra, swigging from her glass.

  ‘No, but it might thaw you out a bit,’ I mutter back, too quietly for her to hear me but loud enough to make Isobel giggle.

  Sandra walks around the room, handing us all a piece of paper and a pen. Her organization skills are very impressive and I wonder if she’s ever considered a career change. She’d make an excellent teacher.

  ‘Okay. This is a really fun game called Sex Bingo and it goes like this.’ She stands in front of us all and beams. ‘Each of you need to write down every single sexual position that you have ever heard of on your piece of paper. Then I’ll call out names and if you’ve written that position on your paper you can tick it off. The person with the highest score at the end wins a prize. And not just any prize – it’s a gift that keeps on giving. You could say it’s the prize of a lifetime, in fact!’

  I look across at where Miss Pritchard is sitting and something inside me dies a bit. For this innocent old woman, who hasn’t been out in over two decades, to be subjected to such depravity in my home is almost too much to bear. I doubt she’s ever had a sexual relationship, let alone experimented with wacky positions. Cassie has gone too far this time and I’m going to have to do something about it.

  ‘You’ve got five minutes to write them all down,’ calls Sandra. ‘Your time starts now!’

  I blink my eyes and try to focus. Perhaps I’ll just take Miss Pritchard into the kitchen and ask Nick to drive her home. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much. Yes, that’s definitely the solution. She should go now before any more damage is done.

  ‘Miss Pritchard?’ I call softly. ‘Can I have a word, please?’

  ‘Think of your own words,’ she barks, hunching over her piece of paper. ‘I want that prize.’

  It’s only now that I see her hand, scribbling like lightning across the paper. Next to her, Pru is writing with equally alarming speed. In fact, when I glance around the room, everyone is deeply
engrossed in the task and it seems to be only me who has a blank page.

  ‘Can I just clarify?’ asks Pru, pausing for a second. ‘Does it have to be positions that we’ve personally experienced or just ones that we’ve heard of?’

  ‘Ooh, let’s see,’ laughs Sandra. ‘I think it’s more fun if we say that you can only write down words that you are intimately familiar with, if you catch my drift.’

  There is a murmur of approval from my assorted guests and the scratching sound of pens on paper intensifies. Fine. Nobody can say that I didn’t try. If Miss Pritchard ends up traumatised by tonight’s goings-on then that’s on her. This is my sex party and I’m damned if I’m going to let someone else walk away with the prize of a lifetime.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  For a few minutes the room is silent other than the occasional gasp of pleasure when someone remembers another sexual position. I wonder briefly about what memories are being relived amongst my guests and then realise that unless I want to come last, I’m going to have to think of a few X-rated names of my own. Obviously, I’ve got The Butter Churner, but I’m going to have to do better than that if I want to win. Casting my mind back, I think about the ill-fated evening several months ago when Nick and I were researching for More Than Sex and trying out a variety of sexual positions. Despite the fact that there is little to no hotness attached to the awkward memory I can still remember some of the positions, and I scrawl them down.

  After a while, Sandra puts her hand up and tells us all to stop writing.

  ‘Now, no cheating,’ she warns us, looking sternly around the assembled women. ‘If I say a word and you’ve written it down then you may tick it off your list. But I will be checking and if there’s any funny business then you will forfeit the prize of a lifetime.’

  We all mumble our assent and she starts to reel off a list of sexual positions.

  ‘Missionary,’ she begins and most people put a mark on their sheet.

  ‘How did I forget that one?’ moans Cassie.

  ‘It’s understandable,’ Pru reassures her. ‘It’s not my favourite position either on account of the fact that it’s incredibly difficult for a woman to—’

  ‘Cowgirl!’ calls Sandra with impeccable timing. ‘Spork!’

  ‘What did she say?’ asks Miss Pritchard.

  ‘She said Spork!’ shouts Pru. ‘And no – I have no idea what that is either. Now turn your bloody hearing aid on.’

  ‘It’s an eating utensil that is both a spoon and a fork,’ Allegra informs them, her tone slightly too patronising for my liking. ‘Hence the word spork.’

  ‘I don’t know what that’s got to do with sex,’ huffs Pru and I see Allegra open her mouth before rapidly clamping it shut again. I don’t know why she’s still here, to be honest. She is clearly hating every single moment and I can’t even begin to think about how this is going to impact on my reputation with the PTA.

  ‘The Wheelbarrow!’ announces Sandra and I wince, remembering our disastrous attempt to reenact that position.

  ‘Not with my gammy knee,’ states Miss Pritchard, having obviously complied with Pru’s instructions.

  I catch Cassie’s eye across the room and have to look away before I lose it completely. This evening is turning out to be far weirder than anything I could ever write in a book.

  Sandra rattles off a whole load more names and then asks us to tot up our scores.

  ‘There are fifteen points up for grabs,’ she tells us. ‘So who has got more than four?’

  Everyone except Isobel raises their hand, which gives me a moment of smug satisfaction. I knew that being youthful and gorgeous and trendy wasn’t as great as people make it out to be. Although I would have thought she’d have done a bit better considering it was her who leant me the Fifty Shades books in the first place. She must have picked up a few things, surely?

  ‘Never mind,’ I whisper. ‘I expect the prize isn’t that great.’

  ‘Ooh, you’re a saucy lot, aren’t you?’ teases Sandra. ‘Okay – how about anyone that got more than seven.’

  I put my hand down along with Pru and Lori. We give each other sympathetic looks and then I take in the remaining contenders. I’d have voted on Cassie being in the top three but never in a million years would I have predicted the other two.

  ‘More than ten?’ asks Sandra and Cassie puts her hand down.

  The tension in the room is suddenly palpable as Allegra fixes her rival with a look that is pure competitiveness.

  ‘More than twelve?’ ventures Sandra and Miss Pritchard sighs and lowers her hand.

  ‘Never mind, dear,’ says Pru, patting her hand. ‘You did very well to come second.’

  ‘Story of my life, love,’ quips Miss Pritchard. ‘Story of my life.’

  I snort so hard that half of my wine flies back out through my nose.

  ‘I’ll just need to verify your score, Ally,’ Sandra says, as if this is some kind of Olympic event.

  ‘It’s Allegra, actually,’ the other woman informs her, in a slightly haughty voice.

  ‘Maybe you should ask for a urine sample too?’ suggests Cassie but Sandra is too involved in checking the authenticity of Allegra’s list to respond. After a few, tense moments she raises her head and smiles.

  ‘We have a winner!’ she declares and we all cheer.

  ‘All hail Allegra, Queen of Sex!’ whoops Lori and we raise our glasses to an extremely embarrassed-looking Allegra.

  ‘I hardly think that I deserve that title,’ she protests.

  I agree. This is my sex party and if anyone in this room is being crowned Sex Queen that it should be me.

  ‘As promised, here is your prize of a lifetime,’ Sandra says, handing Allegra a discreet box.

  Allegra takes it and glances down at the item in her hand.

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure that I—’

  ‘What is it?’ yells Cassie, even though I’m fairly sure that she’s thoroughly aware of the contents. ‘Come on! Tell us what you’ve won!’

  Allegra shuffles the box from one hand to the other as if it’s a hot potato. ‘Well, I don’t think that I—’

  ‘It’s a mini vibrator,’ declares Sandra proudly. ‘It’s one of our bestselling products, actually. And don’t let the size put you off. This little beauty can go for hours and hours without stopping and it never asks for anything in return except a few fresh batteries from time to time.’

  ‘Don’t you want it then?’ asks Miss Pritchard, fixing her beady gaze on Allegra’s flushed face. ‘Because I came second and I’d be happy to take it off your hands.’

  ‘It’s fine, thank you,’ says Allegra and we all watch as she rapidly stuffs the box into her handbag. ‘I’m happy to take it.’

  ‘You know you are!’ crows Cassie and the room erupts in an explosion of laughter.

  Allegra freezes for one second and then her shoulders slump forward and her head drops. I stop sniggering and the room goes quiet again. I feel awful for the second time this evening. Allegra is a pain but she doesn’t deserve to feel humiliated and we shouldn’t be amused at her expense. Not everyone is as liberated as I am or thinks like I do – I doubt Allegra has ever had a sex bubble incident in her entire life. She’s far too uptight for that kind of thing.

  Her shoulders start to shake and then her head whips up and a burst of laughter tears itself from her immaculately made-up lips.

  ‘At least it isn’t going to demand that I go along to its stupid football matches!’ she stammers. ‘Or ask me to collect its dry-cleaning or listen to it droning on about interest rates and mortgage deals. And it might actually come in quite handy next time Derek is out and I have a Keanu Reeves movie marathon, if you know what I mean…’

  From the cackling that fills my living room, it is quite obvious that we are all fully apprised of exactly what she means. It is also becoming increasingly clear that I may have made a few incorrect assumptions about the women here this evening.

  She makes a buzzing sound and starts laugh
ing again and the evening kind of descends from there. Or ascends, depending on your viewpoint.

  Sandra clearly knows how to work the room and when she suggests that we mix some cocktails, the response is overwhelmingly positive.

  ‘I’ll do it!’ yells Allegra. ‘I can mix an incredible Negroni.’

  ‘What about the ice situation?’ I remind her. ‘We’ve already ascertained that I am sadly lacking in that department.’

  ‘Sod the ice!’ she screeches. ‘Now grab that bucket!’

  I stand and weave my way rather unsteadily out of the room and into the kitchen.

  ‘Where’s our bucket?’ I ask Nick. ‘Hi, kids – are you having a nice evening with Dad?’

  ‘You’re being very loud,’ Benji tells me. ‘It sounds like a good party. Can I join in?’

  ‘No!’ chorus Nick and I at the same time.

  ‘It’s no place for a man,’ Nick tells him. ‘In fact, I think we should probably all go upstairs now. It’s safer.’

  ‘I didn’t know that you were friends with Sandra from the dentist,’ says Scarlet, staring at me quizzically.

  ‘I’m not,’ I tell her. ‘Nick – the bucket?’

  ‘So why is she here then?’ persists Scarlet. ‘I saw her arriving.’

  ‘Did you see anything else?’ I round on her, my eyes flashing. ‘Did you? What did you see?’

  Scarlet puts her hands up. ‘Chill out, Mum. I didn’t see anything.’

  I stare at her suspiciously but her face looks innocent enough – which would definitely not be the case if she had the slightest inkling of what was going down in our living room.

  Nick has moved across to the sink and is pulling something out from the cupboard underneath.

  ‘Did you mean this bucket?’ he asks, waving it in the air. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No problem,’ I say, taking it from him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Does someone feel sick?’ asks Benji. ‘That’s the bucket you always give me when I’m poorly.’

  ‘Everyone is fine,’ I assure him.

  ‘Is the living room radiator leaking again?’ asks Nick, frowning. ‘Because you’re on your own if it is – there’s no way I’m going in there to sort it out.’