Bang Gang

by Jade West

  Darren Trent wasn’t jealous.

  He was an asshole.

  And he didn’t see me as a woman, not anymore. That was the bottom line. I was just Mum. That’s how he saw me, and in that deep dark place in my heart that’s how I’d feared he’d seen me for a long, long time. Since I’d had the girls, in fact. It never felt quite the same after.

  Maybe that’s what killed us, ultimately.

  Maybe I’d stopped being a woman in his eyes before I’d stopped being a woman in my own.

  But I was a woman again now, even if he refused to see it. I kept hold of myself, kept putting that makeup on every morning, kept making the effort to feel like me.

  And it worked. It really worked.

  Maybe I didn’t care so much what Darren Trent thought after all.

  I realised that was a lie when I found his truck next to mine in the cafe car park at closing. I walked quickly, straight to my door, ignoring him until he was out of his and close enough to my side that he could put an arm across the door handle. I ignored him like he didn’t matter, but my heart was racing and my mouth was dry, my whole body thrumming with anger and upset and something else.

  “What?” I said, then looked around him, stared back at his empty truck. I’d asked Tonya to drop Mia and Ruby down at the garage, since I was working late, and yet there was no sign of them.

  “They’re at Mum and Dad’s,” he said. “I’m here to see you.”

  “Well, you’ve seen me now.” I went to push his arm away. He wouldn’t budge.

  “I want to talk,” he said just as the sky opened up and started pissing itself down. Great. “Please, Jo,” he said. “Just get in the truck a minute.”

  I made a big old sigh out of it before I relented. I hauled myself into the passenger seat, stared straight through the windscreen at the rain outside.

  It took him a while to speak.

  “Why do you want to do it?”

  I shot him a look of surprise. “What?”

  “The sex,” he said. “Why? I didn’t have you down as the orgy type.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe you had me down wrong then.”

  He smirked. “Thought I knew you pretty well, Jodie. You never fucking mentioned having a fucking gangbang. I’d have remembered, believe me.”

  I relaxed into the seat, tried to work out the right words. “I didn’t think about it back then. We were… everything. And then we weren’t.” I paused but didn’t look at him. “Since then I’ve been… Brian wasn’t…” I sighed. “I didn’t feel like me. I haven’t felt like me in a long fucking time.”

  “And now you do?”

  I smiled, kept staring at the rain. “I’m getting there.”

  “And banging four fucking guys will get you further there, will it?”

  Four. He said four.

  “I dunno, Darren. I just want to live again. Mandy Taylor shot her mouth off and it sounded good. It sounded really good. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to live that kind of fantasy. I want to feel like that.” I took a breath. “I miss sex. I miss crazy, intense, fantastical, amazingly hot, fuck-me-harder sex. I’m still a woman, Trent. I still watch porn, I still get off every night to the thought of some crazy wild night where I get lost in the fantasy. I’m still…”

  “I get it,” he said. “You want the big bang, the explosion. You want the same primal shit they all go on about. I hear it all the time.”

  I closed my eyes. “I guess you do.”

  “Why the guys? Why not some randoms from online dating?”

  “Because I know the guys. I know I’d be safe. I know I could let myself go and enjoy it for what it is, and not be freaking out that I’ve made some godawful mistake and landed myself in a load of shit I can’t get myself out of.”

  “But you’ll do it anyway, if I say no? You’ll find some randoms and do it anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “Maybe.” I risked a laugh. “Christ, Darren, I’ve been virtually celibate for more years than I care to remember. I don’t want to end up in a nunnery, I want to get laid, just as much as every other woman around here. Just as much as the other women you… service.”

  “But you’re different,” he said. “This would be different.”

  Would be.

  “Why so?”

  “Just because,” he said, then held up his hands. “I wouldn’t have to be involved, that’s not what I’m saying, but you know these guys. We know these guys. Our girls know these guys.”

  The thought of the girls made my stomach lurch. “And I trust these guys. Hell, Darren, I trust our girls with these guys. I know they’ll give me what I’m looking for without any nasty repercussions. It’s a one-off, just a crazy, ridiculous, horny one-off.” I sighed, wished he’d offer me one of his bloody cigarettes. “I’m not going to beg you, I get that your word goes and no means no. I just wish you’d give me the same courtesy you give every other woman who wants a go.”

  “Courtesy, that’s an interesting way of looking at it.” He rested his head on the headrest. “Everyone’s banging on about fucking courtesy. This isn’t about courtesy, Jo, it’s about sex for money. A cold, hard dirty fuck for money. Is that really what you want? You really, truly want to fucking do this? Bang the guys and hand over the cash afterwards? Wham-bam fucking thank you, ma’am?”

  I mustered all the confidence I could.

  “Yes,” I said. “I really, truly want to fucking do this.”

  He sighed, rubbed his temples. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s what you really fucking want, then I’ll set it up.”

  I couldn’t hide the shock. I must have been gawping, mouth open, staring like a fucking moron. “You will?”

  “I don’t want you scraping up the dregs of online fucking dating for a cheap thrill, Jo. No fucking way.”

  “Thanks, I think.” I was smiling. The grin crept up slowly, my heart thumping.

  He put the key in the ignition. “Four guys,” he said. “Four hundred quid. That’s a good rate.”

  I nodded. “Ok.”

  “You can use my place, if you want. Somewhere familiar.”

  I nodded some more. “Please. That would be good.”

  “Alright,” he said. “I’ll set it up, and then I’ll stay out of it. Just a one-off, though.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

  I shook it. “Deal.”

  Four guys and me, for real. This is really fucking real.

  I didn’t want to be disappointed, but I was. I pushed it aside, told myself four would do. Probably better Darren wasn’t there. He didn’t even want to be there.

  I definitely didn’t want him to be there, either. That’s what I told myself.

  No way.

  But I did. I did want him to be there. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him.

  “I’ll drop you a text with some dates, we’ll book it in,” he added, just like this was some random car repair.

  “Thanks, Darren.”

  He nodded. “I’d best be off. Mum’s doing a mid-week roast.”

  “Nice,” I said. “Give her my best. Your dad, too.”

  “Will do.”

  I let myself out of the truck, and he didn’t even give me a second look as he drove away.

  He definitely, definitely, definitely didn’t want to be there.

  But that was ok.

  I’d make it ok.

  It would be hot. Intense. Crazy. Wild.

  It would be the ultimate fantasy. One big tick on my bucket list.

  So why did it feel so goddamn bad?

  I was watching a late-night crime with Nanna when Trent’s text came through.

  Wednesday week. Or maybe the Friday.

  I checked my ovulation calendar app.

  Friday, I text back. I’ll make sure I’m not working the day after.

  Ok, he said. I’ll book it in.

  Thanks, I sent back.

  My belly was full of flutters, a tight ball of
excitement with just a hint of disappointment underneath. That was good enough.

  I was surprised when another text came through.

  Just a thought, but I could be there, if you like. Just for the intro. Just to make sure it kicks off smoothly.

  My fingers were a blur. Yes, please. That would be nice. Help with the nerves.

  I sent it off and kept typing. I’ll be crapping myself, I’m sure. It would be nice if you were there.

  A few minutes went by and I could hardly keep focused on the TV. Nanna was going on about the killer, and I could only smile and nod, pretend I knew what the hell she was talking about.

  I was shaking as the next message bleeped.

  I could stay if you like, just to watch. Keep an eye on things. If you’re nervous, like.

  I forced myself to count to ten, slowly, the thought of Darren watching me getting fucked made my pussy squirm. If you could that would be great. I’d feel more comfortable.

  Would I really feel more comfortable? My fingers were jittery just at the thought, but there was a thrill there, too. A weird kinky thrill and a strange sense of relief.

  That thrill pulsed at my clit.

  Bodywand calling.

  Shit.

  I could barely bring myself to open the following message. My nerves were shot.

  I’ll be there, then. No problem.

  I typed and re-typed a reply. Words bloody failed me. I forced myself to get a grip, just spit it out and get it out there.

  I’ll pay you. Just for watching, if that’s what you want. Whatever you want. Unless you don’t want to.

  I sent it and realised what a rambling mess it was. I typed out another before I could change my mind.

  I’m trying to say you could be there. Be there be there. Just like any other job. I’ll pay. If that’s what you want. If you don’t, then it’s cool. Just thought I’d say it’s cool with me.

  Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Nanna pulled a face at me.

  “Are you even watching this, Jodie? They’re going to arrest the killer any minute! You’ll miss it!”

  “Sorry, Nanna,” I said, and tried my best to be interested.

  That went to hell as soon as my phone bleeped again.

  I looked at it through splayed fingers.

  If it’s cool with you it’s cool with me. No big deal.

  I couldn’t hold back the grin.

  “Jodie!” Nanna groaned. “You aren’t even watching!”

  “Sorry, Nanna,” I said again. “I’m just talking to Darren.”

  Her face lit up. “Oh,” she said. She patted my hand. “Then you keep talking to him, love. I’ll tell you who the killer was after.”

  “Thanks, Nanna.”

  No big deal, I replied. We’re adults. It’s just… sex. No biggy.

  Just sex, he sent back. My phone bleeped again a couple of seconds later. You don’t need to pay me, though. I don’t want the money.

  How do you even reply to that? I tried not to laugh.

  Thanks.

  What a ridiculous message. What a ridiculous conversation.

  The whole thing was crazy ridiculous.

  I didn’t get any other messages, not before Nanna put the TV on standby and announced that the killer was the little old lady with the rose garden the whole time. Her smile was bright.

  “It’s always the sweet little oldies,” she said. “You never know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?”

  I smiled. “It’s not based on a true story, Nanna.”

  “No,” she said. “But still, nowt so queer as folk. It could be old Mary Brown from number ten. She’s a strange one. She has a rose garden, too. She’s always been shifty, that one.”

  She had a point. Mary Brown was a strange old bat with a creepy son. Their house was like something from Psycho, only more tea and roses than showers and stabbings.

  That’s village life for you. Got to love it.

  I waved Nanna goodnight and handled my chores with a spring in my step.

  Five men. I’d be having the Bang Gang special.

  I’d be having Trent.

  Oh crap. Oh crapping crap. I tried my best to stop smiling, but even the cat sick on the kitchen floor couldn’t dampen my mood.

  That’s really saying something.

  I’d crawled into bed by the time I checked my phone for the last time. It bleeped in my hand the second I’d tapped the Unlock screen, and there it was, another message from Darren.

  Been thinking. Maybe we should break the ice, it said. Just so it’s not awkward. Don’t want it to be all weird, like.

  The butterflies in my stomach swarmed.

  You think we should have sex first? Just us?

  My face was burning. My pussy was burning. My heart was . . .

  A bleep: Thought it might help. With the nerves. Another bleep. No pressure, just thought I’d put it out there.

  I took a deep breath, willed my fingers to calm down and tap the right bloody keys.

  Makes sense, I said. Breaking the ice sounds sensible.

  Sensible? Like anything about this crazy shit sounded bloody sensible.

  I waited for the bleep. Saturday night? Can Nanna have the girls?

  I thought through the practicalities. I could happily leave Nanna with the girls after bedtime, when they were already asleep and wouldn’t overload her with laptop squabbles.

  Late? About eleven? I’ll get the kids to bed first. Shall I come to yours?

  A booty call. I had an actual booty call. With Trent.

  Oh my life.

  My whole body was on fire.

  Another bleep. Eleven at mine works for me.

  I hugged my pillow, fought the urge to let out a squeal.

  See you then, I replied.

  I’ll be seeing you, he said.

  Yes, he would. He’d be seeing me, alright, lumpy-bumpy bits and all.

  I pulled the bodywand box from under the bed.

  The girls’ bedtime seemed to take forever.

  I’m not tired! Mia whinged. Daisy doesn’t even have a bedtime on the weekend! It’s so unfairrrr!

  You can read a book in bed if you’re not tired. No phone though, Mia, I bloody mean it! Give it here, please. Give it here! Yes, I’m a horrible, mean parent, whatever, just give me the bloody phone and brush your teeth!

  Lord Almighty.

  It was all quiet by the time I’d finished in the bathroom. A smoother shave than I’d had in years made my legs feel tingly and naked – the other parts, too. The soft fabric of the babydoll felt risqué and luxurious against my skin, hidden from view under my new scarlet tunic. I slipped on my black jeans, and my ridiculous heels after them, then did a full 360 in the mirror to make sure there was none of the negligee poking out.

  I crossed Nanna on the stairs on my way out. My makeup was heavy and my hair was slick and styled, my steps only slightly unsteady as they adjusted to the killer heels.

  “Oooh!” she said. “You look lovely, Jo! Really lovely!”

  “Just popping out with Tonya,” I said. “Is that ok?”

  She waved me off with a smile. “You go on, love. Have a good time.”

  “It’s just for a few hours,” I said. “I’ll be back long before morning.”

  “I’m sure I’ve still got my wits about me enough to tip some cereal in a bowl, my girl.” She gave me a wink. “Go, have fun. Meet yourself a nice man.”

  If only she knew.

  “Nanna!” I said. “You’re a bad influence.”

  She waggled a finger at me. “I was quite a dish before your Pop Pop, I’ll have you know. Oh, to be young again. I’ve met many a nice man in my time.” She laughed to herself as she climbed the rest of the stairs.

  At least now I knew where I got it from.

  I was grinning as I eased the door closed behind me.

  I should have brought wine. Why didn’t I bring wine? Or even vodka. I should definitely have brought vodka.

  It was too late for that n
ow. My nerves were jangling as I skirted the river towards the fish and chip shop. I prayed that for once Trent wouldn’t be smoking outside his front door. That spot would put him in prime position to observe my less than sterling negotiation of the bumpy path in stupid heels.

  I should never have worn these heels.

  I should have worn bloody flip flops or something instead. Anything rather than risk jabbing a heel in a rut and toppling ass over tit. There’s nothing sexy about a twisted ankle, that’s for sure.

  Sexy. Oh my life.

  I was going to have sex.

  Real, proper open your legs sex.

  I paused for a moment before Trent’s place came into view. Was I ready? I smoothed my hair. As ready as I’d ever be.

  My mouth was so bloody dry, my knees weak and pathetic as I walked the final strait. I kept my eyes away from the steps up to his, making out I was busy rooting in my bag, just to avoid any eye contact that might be lurking if he was outside waiting for me.

  As it turns out, he wasn’t.

  My heels clacked against the stone as I ascended the steps, and I noted with interest that there wasn’t a cigarette butt in sight, not a single one. The bucket at the top was empty, too.

  I’d never known it empty.

  I breathed deeply outside the closed front door, leaning back against the railings and trying to reach my Zen state.

  Yeah, right. Like my life was ever Zen-like.

  I gave myself a pep talk, told myself this was no biggie. Just sex, just like we’d said. We’d done it enough times before.

  I tapped the door like a little mouse, then chided myself, gave it a decent knock.

  I aimed for bright and casual with my smile, but I’m not so sure it held when he opened the door. An outsider would say Darren was dressed casually at best, but I’m no outsider. His jeans were faded but clean, and his t-shirt had an actual collar. We were hardly in tuxedo territory, but there was no doubt about it – Darren Trent had made an effort.

  He stepped aside to let me pass, and he smelled shower fresh – that same cool blue stuff he’d been using forever.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He stepped into the kitchen and I followed, backing myself against the sink to give him space enough to pull a bottle of wine from the fridge. Thank fuck.