Dirty Angel (The List #2)

by N. K. Love

  “Tantric sex Jax, you, really, come on? I don’t think you’ve thought this through G.”

  “What? I can be versatile between the sheets B—and the trees! I’ve heard about that spiritual fucking. It surely can’t be too difficult. And hey, if you like my outer shell, just imagine what it’d be like to meet my soul.”

  Spiritual fucking? Never one to mince his words. I can tell by his jovial tone that tantric sex would take us both a lot of homework if we were to entertain attempting it! I lean down to his ear.

  “Well Jax, I do love this hard shell of yours.” I rub his broad shoulders. Then I go on in a matter-of-fact tone, “But I believe our souls have already been acquainted on a number of occasions actually. And you’re right, yours is pretty wonderful.” I notice a falter in his stride and wonder if I’ve been too deep with him. Well, my words are true, I won’t deny it. “Unfiltered honesty Jax.” I remind him.

  After a few seconds he adds, “Yeah, come to think of it, yours is almost as amazing as your banging body.” He reaches behind and slaps my bottom causing me to bite down on his ear. He’s mastering the art of disguising sweet intentions with a layer of humour. It’s a breakthrough in my eyes and it just makes him all the more irresistible.

  “Look B, I just think that if you’re still wanting to broaden your sexual horizon, it’d be easier with me and less stressful…”

  Jax

  … for me. It would make it less fucking stressful for me, but I’m not going to admit that to her. I’m either digging myself a deeper hole to bury myself in or this idea will keep me settled long enough to sort my fucking head out.

  “Mr Jaxson, are you asking me to be… sexclusive?”

  That’s the playful tone I like so I join her light-hearted approach to my proposal.

  “Miss Bethany, I have acquired an impressive repertoire of sexpertise that I am sure you will benefit from.” She laughs and rests her chin on my shoulder with her voluptuous lips to my ear.

  She whispers, “Okay, Fuck It… I’d like that—a lot.”

  It’s like a weight being lifted off my shoulders, I feel instant relief. Seeing her lips on somebody else tonight really hit home exactly how much I want to keep Beth all to myself for at least a while longer.

  I suddenly feel a hint of excitement. Now, for me, that is novel. I’ve just negotiated a short term fix to an open-ended problem.

  3:45am

  Pleased to be back home, we head straight up to bed. It’s been a long ass night and I’ve got a lot of shit in my head to wade through.

  I don’t want to blur our friendship anymore so I subtly kiss her at the top of the stairs so she knows I want her to sleep in her room. Or at least I want her to think that. Right now, I want nothing more than to slide straight into bed and straight into her… But if we’re going to make this thing work I need to keep this in check. No strings… or webs… or puppeteering!

  Beth doesn’t seem fussed and she’s shattered anyway. I fall asleep with ease but wake an hour later in the midst of a nightmare; it’s pitch black and Beth’s trussed up with rope, laying down helplessly in the middle of the road. I can’t get to her. A car’s accelerating towards her faster and faster, the headlights lighting up a face full of fear. Then the reflection in the windscreen reveals the driver. It’s me. I can hear her screams piercing through the air. I’m pumping the brakes but nothing’s happening, I’m trying to steer but the wheel’s locked.

  I wake up just as she goes out of view beneath the bonnet. It’s so goddam vivid. I jump out of bed, breathless with beads of sweat gathering on my forehead. I feel nauseous. Everything is hazy. I need to see she’s alright, even though I know it wasn’t real.

  A silent trip to her bedroom reassures me that Beth is sleeping soundly. She’s safe. It’s so calm and peaceful in her room. Whenever I’ve been in here before it’s just felt cold and empty. This angel can inject light and warmth into any room… into anybody, maybe even me.

  I pace the hallway, knowing that I won’t sleep again for a while so I fetch the key to the office up here and seek out my reliable distraction. There’s some unfinished work I can throw myself into for the time being.

  Two hours later and I have made pleasing progress, uncovering crucial information that I’d been chasing for the last fortnight. I make a robust plan for later tonight and finally feeling satisfied. I’m ready to sleep soundly this time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  9:20am

  Beth

  It’s the morning after the tree before. I clench my aching thighs together at the memory of Jax between them. Feeling wonderfully tender, he certainly delivered on his threat to leave me sore and wanting more.

  What an eventful night! I wake up in the guest room, having fallen to sleep alone. Only now I have the welcome surprise of Jax’s arm draped over me, spooning from behind with his leg encasing mine. For somebody who doesn’t do relationships, he does a pretty good job at making me feel like I’m his.

  Jax hadn’t woken me when he came in but I wish he had so I could’ve enjoyed this platonic closeness. His heavy breathing tells me he’s in a deep sleep so after enjoying some snuggling, I’m able to manoeuvre my way out of his human cage.

  I slip on my black silk robe, grab all I need and tiptoe out the room to deposit my stuff in the bathroom down the hallway. I clean my teeth and head downstairs, for some coffee and crumpets. I see a text reply off Wills from last night. I need to call her anyway because it’s the funeral this afternoon.

  Wills sounds well; using the time to support and reconnect with her mom. So much has happened since the last time I saw her and for once I don’t feel the need to tell her every morsel of detail. Partly because Jax is her friend but mainly because it feels like this is part of my journey that I need to figure out for myself. Naturally she asks how things are going with Jax and I simply answer that “It’s different” and that’s all she needs to decipher that something’s going on. Rightly picking up that I want to keep it private, whatever ‘it’ is that Jax and I have, she respectfully changes the subject.

  Somebody had messaged her about the party and she already knew I’d gone so we chat about that. I tell her almost everything except the journey home of course. Man she is going to die when she finds out how well my Fuck It list is progressing! Wills assumes that Mr No Name is the reason I said I needed a hug and I didn’t correct her.

  Afterwards, I quickly catch up with Eddie and make plans to meet up. Then I return to the bathroom to run myself a bath.

  It is beyond lush. I usually shower in the day and enjoy baths at night because it usually soothes me, unwinding the day into night. I think about my sexting session with Jax and work out that it was less than a fortnight ago. How crazy is it that now I’m in his bath, feeling the stinging after-effects of his unforgettable presence inside of me?

  As usual I replay the previous night and I’ve got a lot to go over in my head so I summarise; I kiss Mr No Name, Jax kisses somebody, Jax punches Mr No Name, cab ride, Jax freaks out and I don’t know why, Miss Seductive seduces him, tree fucking, it was wonderful, he carries me home, sexclusivity and sleep. My oh my, we have been busy bees! Even by our own recent standards.

  There’s just one thing I can’t shake. Jax said “I’m just battling some demons...” What demons? My dark and mysterious G has hidden demons, that’s no surprise. But the fact that he lost control of them momentarily last night concerns me. I’ll have to park this until an appropriate time arises for me to maybe ask him. He told me once that he’d never lie to me but that doesn’t mean he’s not hiding a shitload of surprises around the corner.

  Despite last night my hand feels pretty much back to normal and I’m confident that I can safely manage to drive now. I want to pick up my car today after relying on Jax all week. I decide to get ready and make him breakfast in bed then see if our plans today can include a trip to Wills.

  I’ve chosen some skinny three quarter length tan capri trousers and a white tailored buttoned shirt.
I want to look the way I feel and I’m still feeling like an empowered sexy woman.

  I am managing to keep the whispers shtum in the pit of my naïve heart telling me that it’s not just physical with Jax, that it’s not just emotional with Jax… that it’s so much more with Jax. Somehow I already know I’ll wind up hurt but it’s like I’ve involuntarily made some sort of executive decision that the hurt in the future will be far outweighed by all the wonderful experiences I’ve had and will continue to have with him until our journey together comes to its natural end. In the meantime, I will make the most of life, whatever it’s going to throw at me.

  I make extra effort drying and straightening my hair, adding a little make up for good measure. When I go back to the bedroom Jax is gone. I grab my boots, jacket and handbag for later and take them downstairs with me. He isn’t down here either. So he must’ve gone back to his bedroom, which tells me he either doesn’t want to get up yet or he’s gone to have a shower to get ready. Either way, breakfast in bed is off the menu.

  Now I can write comfortably, I decide to transfer my poems from my phone to the back pages of a nearby notepad. Paper has always been my preference and I’ve missed writing.

  I still have a box file full of scrap pieces of paper with scribbled down moments of confusion and clarity. I only write as a casual hobby. It’s a way that has always helped me figure out my feelings or just helps by giving me a platform to get things off my chest in private. Nobody has ever read anything I’ve written, not even Mendacious Mike. Not that he would’ve been interested.

  One weekend last year, I was home alone playing second fiddle to a golfing weekend and I’d sat up late at night writing for hours and hours. I’d tapped into things I must’ve felt and shrewdly managed to hide away from myself. The next morning I sat in bed with a coffee and read through them. I was no longer in that writing zone and was in a completely different frame of mind.

  The words didn’t even feel like they belonged to me. To anybody else reading, they’d appear like the nonsensical ramblings of a schizophrenic. But not to me, I read the words and felt the desperate underlying dark sadness, doubt, pain and anxiety. It scared the hell out of me because amongst it all there was light and love and happiness springing off the paper. The mass of contradiction and confusion freaked me out; how could I feel all of that at the same time? Were they all my real emotions? Did I just take my writing too far that night?

  It hurt to read them and I was ashamed they’d come from my mind. Writing the poems was like aimlessly stumbling around a maze of thoughts that I’d created and I was lost. Could I apply that simile to my life too, was I lost? The answer was obvious and even colder than the side of my bed next to me that hadn’t been touched for a few days.

  All I wanted to do was delete the treacherous words from existence because the fact that I could read them presented the dilemma that perhaps I should pay attention to them—even act on them. So instead I burned them. Believing that if I did, I could brush the ashes under the carpet and go on pretending that those words, feelings, thoughts, pain—they didn’t really exist.

  It worked for a while. In fact, this is the first time I’ve let myself think about that weekend. Does that make me weak? I could’ve been a year into my single life by now… Would my journey still have crossed paths with Jax? He would’ve only been manager about six months back then. I believe we would’ve still met.

  Oh shit! Whoa! It’s only just clicked. That would’ve probably been around the same time blondy hooked up with my husband. “One year—with my boyfriend.” She’d said. Yeah, one year—with my husband…

  Burying those poems by burning them was a huge mistake. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was fighting for what I wanted out of my life. Now I know I was fighting the wrong battle because what I wanted wasn’t what I needed. If I’d have given myself room to breathe I would’ve worked that one out.

  I love that my writing is totally private, just an extension of my inner most personal thoughts. The paper is like a table for me to spread out all the pieces of a puzzle. Then once I’ve fathomed it out, I put the pieces together and tuck them back away inside my head—except for that weekend. Thankfully I haven’t felt the need to burn any of my scraps bits of scrawled words since.

  Sometimes I go for weeks, maybe months without writing anything. It’s just a matter of scribbling things down when I feel compelled or inspired. It’s never forced. Even now as I copy them onto paper I feel the emotions reflected when I wrote them and it’s interesting to see how my mind set has evolved over such a short space of time. With this, there’s no right or wrong, no judgements. Inspired to recollect last night and attempt to portray some of that on paper, I dive inside my little world to see what the ink tells me.

  I feel better after getting more of me down on paper. I did give up on writing for a while after that weekend but I’m glad I found the courage to do it again. I love it. Reflecting back on that heavy weekend and then feeling the lightness of my life right now makes me happy and gives me the inner glow that reassures me going-with-the-flow is working wonders for me. I’d never burn these words or want to pretend they didn’t exist. They do. They’re part of me.

  I curb the impulse to graffiti something like ‘Bethson’ or ‘Jaxany’, then realise that even our initials elicit sexual memories for goodness sake. I remember the last time I doodled over a man. It was in the back of one of my business textbooks. A couple of years after being with Mike, I’d practise signing Mrs Rollaston. I don’t even know if I believed it would happen at the point so I definitely hadn’t considered that I’d be counting down the months until I get to have my father’s name back again. Back then I was young and impressionable and I thought I was so in love…

  11:04am

  The prospect of collecting my car is still on my mind so after a second cup of coffee and still no sign of Jax, I decide that he must’ve gone back to sleep.

  Jax is particular about the car service he uses. If he has a choice he always uses the same firm, so I order a car for midday and write him a note. It’s going to feel good to drive again.

  After an expensive but worthwhile ride I’m back at Wills. I rustle myself up some spicy noodles and salad for lunch, making a mental note to ensure I stock up the fridge before I collect Wills from the airport on Friday night.

  Being back here, away from Jax, gives me chance to consider his proposition regarding my Fuck It list. I realise now that I agreed without negotiation when I had him at a disadvantage—schoolgirl error. There’s something important that I stupidly failed to add to the equation but it’s screaming at me now.

  FYI – Sexclusivity works both ways. Deal or no deal? x

  Whilst he keeps me waiting I jump in my car. I fancy a slow drive back with some loud music so I belt out my Motown compilation album. By the time I reach the petrol station I’ve had the reply I’d hoped for.

  Deal. Do u want lunch? x

  No thanks. I’ll b back in an hour or so. Film tonight? x

  Ok, u choose but it won’t b til L8 x

  I fill the tank and, feeling inspired and spontaneous, when I go inside to pay I buy cigarettes, papers and a lighter. I drive to the nearest quiet spot and pull over to call Katie, who I know lives over the road from 24/7. I ask if she can hook me up with some marijuana. She’d gone outside a couple of times last night to smoke weed with a girl she’s been seeing. When she’d invited me to join her I was tempted but declined. Katie basically told me to let her know if I ever fancied a joint. She gives me her address and tells me to come over now.

  Katie works in fashion design and retail and gets given the most fantastic sample clothing. I step inside her hallway and look through her latest haul whilst she sorts some weed out into a small plastic bag for me. I accept a pull on the spliff she’s already got on the go, just to give myself a taster. Considering I haven’t smoked weed for years, I manage to hold it down without coughing and spluttering like I imagined I’d do. I’m glad th
at I remembered to buy menthol cigarettes, recommended by Wills when we wrote the list almost a month ago, apparently it’ll give it a smoother feel with a better aftertaste.

  Whilst I’m chatting to Katie, I notice the lettering she has staggered down her stairwell; Y.O.L.O, ‘You Only Live Once’ – I take that as my sign that although what I’m doing is naughty, it’s all part of my journey. Miss Fierce is currently dressed like a hippy holding her fingers up doing peace signs whilst sitting on top of one gagged Miss Sensible, I thought she’d been quiet.

  I ask Katie to roll me a spliff with my menthol, as I know I’ll be all fingers and thumbs. I watch how it’s done for future reference. I think this could be a great welcome home present to celebrate Wills’ return in style. I can just imagine her reaction if I pulled out a fat spliff and casually lit it up mid-conversation. Priceless!

  3:47pm

  I arrive back at Jax’s and walk into the yard to the sexy, masculine sound of repeated “Bap bap, oosa, bap, bap oosa” each syllable comes in sync with the clap of leather smacking leather.