Kinky Resolutions and Other New Year's Disasters: A Standalone Romantic Comedy

by Frankie Love

  Courtney and Willow had designated me as the driver for our girls’ weekend because I was the one who wouldn’t get us lost, had AAA, and had checked the ferry schedule.

  Court claimed “work fatigue” every chance she got, even though she was only an intern, and Willow didn’t have a car. The three of us were recent college graduates, but I was the one they deemed a grown-up.

  And at the moment, I felt anything but. Right then I felt like a fraud. Court and Willow expected me to be put-together, because I always was … but right then I just wanted to have a good cry.

  “Sorry, this resort doesn’t have cell service,” the front desk clerk said sympathetically as I pulled out my phone. “We have a land line, though, if it’s urgent.”

  “Seriously?” I huffed and dropped my phone back in my bag. Not for the first time, I wondered where Willow had dragged us. She’d claimed this was an island oasis, but right then it felt like a prison. The lobby was decorated in thrift store cast-offs, with a bohemian bartender. “How do you not have reception?”

  “We’re too far out for cell towers,” she said. “You know, our website clearly says that we don’t have cell service or Wi-Fi.”

  I gave her a tight smile, knowing I was being the bitch my friends had accused me of being, earlier in the car—though it wasn’t my fault Willow had no sense of direction.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” the clerk asked.

  “Actually, yes, I wanted to book a massage for tomorrow. Anything available?”

  Flipping through an old-school appointment book, she pursed her lips before asking, “How does 11:30 work?”

  “Great,” I said. I had nothing on my agenda except to find a way to forget about Blaine and the year we had been together.

  “Sixty or ninety minutes?”

  “Ninety, please.”

  “You’re all set, then.” She handed me a card with the appointment time. “Your masseuse is Liam, and the spa cabin is easy to find on the map,” she said, handing me a paper with a highlighted cabin.

  Walking toward the lobby, I saw Courtney downing her hot toddy. Must be nice, I thought. I could never let myself relax like that.

  Maybe tonight—after I unpacked, made dinner for the three of us, and got in my pajamas—I’d be able to decompress with some wine. But at four in the afternoon? Not me.

  “You should really stop giving Willow such a hard time,” Courtney said, her fingers circling the rim of her mug. “It was a really intense car ride.”

  “She graduated with honors,” I said. “She could do anything. I just don’t like watching my friend waste her life.”

  “I don’t think it’s for you to decide,” Courtney countered. “I know things have been hard since you and Blaine broke up—”

  “No you don’t, Court,” I said. And she didn’t. Courtney had never had a real boyfriend. In fact, her entire life was a low-key luxury, the sort I had never known.

  She’d never had a real job before. The pressures at her magazine internship were nothing like the ones at my advertising agency, especially since I didn’t come from money like she did.

  I, on the other hand, had no parents to fall back on if I blew my rent money on Uggs and a new Coach bag. I had put myself through college, and everything I had now, I had earned for myself. Sure, it made me more intense about certain things, but I’d been forced into responsibility way before Courtney and Willow had.

  Of course I wanted Willow to get out of her job at the coffee shop. She needed a 401k.

  “We’re only twenty-two; let’s act like it,” Courtney said, and took her mug back to the bar.

  I watched her walk away. Our friendship had spanned the length of college, but right now I felt so misunderstood—by Blaine, by Courtney, by Willow. I just wanted somebody to take care of me. I was tired of managing everyone else, only to have it bite me in the ass.

  Willow walked into the lobby, smiling warmly.

  “What took you so long?” I asked, wincing at my own words. I wanted to be nicer.

  “There was the hottest guy in front of me and I couldn’t help flirting.”

  “How hot?” Courtney asked.

  “Like hotter-than-Kyle-at-work hot,” Willow said, knowing Court’s not-so-secret crush.

  “I am so over guys,” I said tucking my blond hair behind my ears. “This weekend I am avoiding them at all costs.”

  “God, you are seriously depressing, Callie,” Willow said. “I’m totally planning on getting laid this weekend.”

  “No surprise there,” I said. Willow was the most experienced of the three of us, and I fully expected she would find someone to hook up with.

  “Oh, screw you, Callie,” Willow said. “This is supposed to be a fun getaway, not a break-up bitchfest. Oh, and you guys,” she said, her voice lowering. “That’s the guy.”

  Willow pointed discreetly at a guy who did look like Kyle, but he was so not my type. Not that I knew what my type was anymore. Blaine had been a stereotypical band boy, playing guitar, notorious for driving a beer truck and forgetting his wallet.

  Thanks for nothing, I’d thought when he broke up with me. I was the one who’d washed his clothes, made him dinner, and filled his gas tank when it hit E.

  The Kyle look-alike was with three other guys. They could have been mistaken for cover models for an outdoor magazine, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had real jobs that afforded their laid-back look. Annoyed with my judgmental thoughts, I looked over at Willow and Courtney, wishing I could chill out like them. I was tired of being the type-A drag.

  “They’re all so hot,” Courtney said.

  “We should go talk to them,” Willow said daringly.

  “Yeah, right,” I said, using disinterest as a coping mechanism. I didn’t want to be rejected for the second time in a week. But, stealing a glance at the guys, I realized my friends were right about one thing: they were all super-hot. “I’m not interested, and Courtney would never make a move.”

  “Fine,” Willow said, deflated, as the guys walked out of the lobby.

  I instantly regretted my snappy comments, and determined to be a better friend to her tonight.

  One guy stopped on his way out and turned to look my way. I smiled, but pretended not to notice. He took off his beanie, revealing close-cropped blond hair. He was much more athletic than guitar-playing Blaine had ever been. Now he gave me a full-on smile and I quickly turned my head, keeping up my charade of disinterest.

  The one I was tired of. The one that put me in a box so restricting I couldn’t breathe.

  “Anyone ready to get to our cabin?” Willow asked.

  Courtney said yes and jumped for the keys, and I couldn’t have agreed more. I was ready to drop my bags and get in comfy clothes.

  And maybe I was being a bit over the top in judging Court’s afternoon drink—because at this moment, all I wanted was to get buzzed and forget all the responsibilities I’d put on myself.

  I was ready to stop being everyone’s mother, and start being my own woman.

  Chapter Nine

  The three of us claimed beds in the studio cabin and dropped our bags on them. The cabin was cozy and quaint, and I eyed the tub in the bathroom, knowing it had my name on it for later tonight. Willow began a fire in the wood-burning stove, and the chilly evening air dissipated quickly as the crackling flames radiated heat. I took off my cardigan and opened a bottle of Merlot.

  Pouring glasses, I held mine up to offer a toast, wanting to apologize for my bitchiness.

  “To Willow, for making this weekend away happen,” I said. “I know my attitude has been less than stellar, and I just wanted to thank you both for loving me despite that.”

  We clinked glasses and I took a long drink, the rich wine warming my throat.

  “That’s sweet, Callie, but we get it,” Willow said, and Courtney nodded in agreement. They were being way too generous with me. What I really needed was to be put in my place.

  Settling in quickly, we
began chopping romaine for salad and warming a baguette.

  By the time we finished our Caesar salad, we had drunk two bottles of wine, and I decided what the hell and uncorked a third. I began refilling our glasses, but Courtney surprised me by announcing that she was headed off to the soaking tubs, alone.

  “Which should I wear?” she asked. “My one-piece or the bikini?”

  “The bikini for sure,” I said, eyeing her curves. “You’re in the best shape of your life.”

  “You know the sauna and soaking tubs are clothing optional, don’t you?” Willow said.

  I had totally forgotten, not that I planned on spending much time there. I wasn’t really interested in a naked hot tub; I’d had enough of those in college. I wanted something a bit more grown-up when I took off my clothes.

  Courtney took off pretty quickly, leaving a near-drunk Willow in her wake.

  I began clearing the table and putting away leftovers as Willow watched.

  “I’m not mad that you think my barista job is a dead end,” she told me. Apparently the booze had made her reflective. “Because, honestly, I just feel stuck. Like, there are so many choices and I don’t want to put myself in some box by choosing a lifetime career at twenty-two.”

  I knew what she meant; I didn’t want to be in a box either. But I was living in one that I had built with my own two hands. I didn’t know how to break free.

  “People change their careers and their course all the time.” I told her what I wanted to believe about myself.

  “You’re right. It’s just scary, you know? Being a grown-up. We only get one shot at this. I don’t want to live with regrets.”

  No regrets was easy to say but impossible to practice, I thought, exhausted. It had been a long day, and a longer week. Suddenly all I wanted to do was take a bath.

  “Do you mind if I take a bath?” I asked.

  “No,” Willow said, her eyes half-closed anyway.

  “Get in bed, sleepy head,” I told her. “And thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For being a friend, even when I make that hard.”

  “Anytime, Mom.”

  “Don’t say that,” I say, grabbing my toiletries bag. “I want to loosen up. I just don’t know how.”

  “Do you ever watch porn? That loosens me up plenty,” Willow said, laughing.

  “Oh, shut up,” I told her. I filled another glass of wine and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  “You know I love you,” Willow shouted as I locked the door with a click.

  I knew she did. I also knew I needed to figure out how to love myself.

  I turned the water as hot as it could go, and plugged the tub. Taking another sip of wine, I set down the glass and turned toward the mirror, then pulled my long wavy hair into a messy bun atop my head. Peeling off my socks, skinny jeans, and black cami, I looked at my reflection.

  My panties were bright red, and my bra matched. I had bought these last Valentine’s Day, for Blaine—and, unfortunately, he had gotten way too drunk off cheap beer after his band’s V-Day show to enjoy them.

  I had buried them in my drawer after that, and hadn’t pulled them out until a few days ago when I boxed up the stuff he’d left at my apartment.

  Standing in my bedroom, I’d held them up and looked at them, and realized I had wasted so much on Blaine. My sexy body had never been appreciated, not to mention my help in paying the bills and keeping him fed. He never said thank you. He never acknowledged how much I’d supported him.

  So that morning, before leaving for vacation, I’d put on this bra and panty set. Now, looking at myself in the foggy mirror, I was glad I had. I wouldn’t waste any more time being undervalued.

  Unhooking my bra, I remembered the way the guy in the lobby had smiled at me, how he had given me a second look. That was how I wanted to be seen: so desirable you couldn’t look away.

  Without thinking I brushed my hands over my breasts, their full roundness too big for my hands. I allowed myself to indulge in the idea of the lobby guy rubbing his hands over them, pressing his fingers over my nipples and making them hard with soft strokes.

  I unintentionally let out a moan, and Willow called out.

  “Everything okay in there?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I’m good.” Blushing at my reflection, I dug my phone out of my jeans pocket. I knew there wasn’t reception here, but I pulled up a playlist—a loud one that would muffle any noises.

  Slipping off my panties, I revealed a well-groomed mound, one I always kept trim. I had always imagined Blaine ripping off my clothes and going down on me like guys did in the movies, but he never had. It was disheartening to realize after all that time he was never that into me.

  Still, I would have been ready if he were. My body was ready for whatever encounter I might have. As for tonight, it appeared to be an encounter with myself.

  I lit a candle and added some bubbles to the water. Setting the mood had always been important if I wanted to get myself going, and after this week I wouldn’t take any shortcuts.

  Biting my lip, I lowered myself into the steamy tub. My fingers grazed my pussy, and I let out a deep breath as I allowed myself to relax. I tried to focus on circling my clit, but I couldn’t clear my head. Willow’s words kept ringing in my ears: No regrets.

  Thinking back to her suggestion, I dried off my hands and picked up my phone. I had a video or two—or ten—saved on my phone for when I tried to get Blaine excited about having sex, but he didn’t like watching them with me.

  But I liked the videos.

  Willow and Courtney had no idea the kind of ideas I got in my head after not having incredible sex for such a long spell. I pulled up my favorite video and kept the music on full blast.

  Watching the couple go at in the soft-core porn got me hot, and I pressed my fingers deeper inside. Watching the man take control of the woman he was with, pressing her face into the bed as he fucked her, got me off so easily.

  I wanted that. I wanted someone to take the reins and tell me what to do for a change.

  My walls tightened as I orgasmed. It didn’t take much, especially when I allowed myself to imagine a man doing that to me. I breathed out in my release, dropping my phone on the bathroom rug as my fingers pressed my clit, and my other hand gripped the rim of the tub.

  When I finished, I stood up and let the shower run over my body. Tears covered my face. I was ready to move on from Blaine, and ready for a change in my life.

  Chapter Ten

  Breakfast with the girls started the day off right. Well, it was really brunch. Willow and I were nursing pretty decent hangovers from the night before.

  I indulged in calorie-riddled French toast and fresh maple syrup, knowing I had no guy I was trying to impress.

  It felt good to do what I wanted, not having to take anyone else into account. And my friends all seemed pretty well taken care of on their own. Maybe they always had been, maybe it had always been me who wanted to have someone to mother.

  Courtney was all smiles, until the foursome of cute lobby guys came into the cafe. She got quiet, with her head down, not even noticing that one of them was totally checking her out. Willow tossed her long black hair over her shoulder, flirting from across the room, talking about her day hike.

  “Well, I’m going to head back to the room,” I told them as I finished my cup of coffee. “I have my massage in an hour or so.”

  “I’ll come with,” Courtney said.

  Willow bowed out. She already had her hiking bag packed and was ready to go.

  I sat in the small waiting area before my massage. The masseuse saw clients in a small cabin much like the other ones on the property. Everything else about the resort felt rustic, but not this space.

  Soft music played and incense burned, reminding me of high school, when my friends and I would burn patchouli in effort to mask the pot in our bedrooms. It made me smile, remembering a simpler, easier time.

  Somehow,
since graduating college, everything felt overwhelming. Sure I had a job, but I wanted more. I wanted to be happy with who I was as a person. It was like somewhere between my double major and working two part-time jobs to pay for it, all that started to matter was getting recommendations and impressing recruiters.

  There had to be more.

  “Callie?” A voice startled me from my thoughts. It was the guy from the lobby, the one with the short blond hair and strong muscular arms. Now I knew why he was so strong: he was a masseuse.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I said, caught off guard. This hottie was going to rub me down? The idea of it made me blush. Biting my lip, I said, “Are you the masseuse?”

  “Yes, I’m Liam,” he said, offering me his hand.

  I shook it, noticing how soft it was.

  “I see you’ve signed up for a ninety-minute massage,” he said. “Any particular areas you’d like me to focus on?”

  Umm—” I stammered.

  I never lost my words, but looking at his broad shoulders and strong biceps under his tight crew-neck tee shirt … yeah, I had a few very specific areas I would like him to focus on.

  “No,” I said regaining my composure. “I just wanted a relaxation massage.”

  “Things been hard lately?” he said, looking at me from head to toe. I could have sworn he licked his lips, but I knew I was probably imagining things.

  “Yeah, I broke up with my boyfriend,” I said, instantly regretting it. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. It’s not like you care.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you’re single?”

  “Yeah, but is that important to know for the massage?” Oh my god, I thought, are we flirting?

  “That depends,” he said, smiling coyly.

  Um, yes, definitely flirting. “On what?” I asked, pressing him to say what he meant.

  “On what kind of massage you wanted.” He said it with a straight face, and I knew it would be up to me to go further with this line of questioning, or just retract and get my massage underway. A traditional facedown massage.