by Angel Devlin
“That would be awesome.” Once I’ve collected my coat and bag, I walk back up to where he’s still standing in the exact same spot. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Reaching up on my tiptoes, I kiss his rough cheek, thank him again and head for home feeling a little more confident about my dating future than when I arrived.
4
Aiden
No.
NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.
How do I get my mind to empty?
I might have to employ a hypnotherapist.
Visions of my best friend in her tight vest top, the swell of her breasts poking out at the top won’t leave my mind.
GET OUT.
I’m not doing this.
SHE’S. MY. BEST. FRIEND.
WE. DON’T. THINK. OF. HER. THAT. WAY.
Weeee doooo nowwww. My brain fights back.
I throw myself on the sofa. The ceiling tilts a bit with the amount of beer I’ve consumed this evening. Put it down to the booze, mate. In the morning she’ll be back in your brain as the best friend who walks around looking like she’s homeless or eighty-four years old. It’ll be fine.
I close my eyes and let the alcohol send me into oblivion.
Kaylie is standing in the doorway to my bedroom in her vest top and itty-bitty red lace panties. Her index finger is pulling on the bottom of her lip.
“Hey, Kay-bear. What are you doing here?”
She pulls the vest top up and over her head, revealing creamy titties with rosebud-pink puckered nipples.
“I want you to fuck me, Aid. I’m, well, I never told you this, but I’m a virgin.”
My cock almost punches out of the duvet in response. I watch as she drops her panties, kicking them away and then she walks over to the bed.
I pull the duvet back to reveal my six-pack and my rock-hard length.
“I need you sooo baddd, Aiden. Let me…”
She sits astride me and despite her ‘virgin’ status, her hand grips my length and she guides me inside her. She’s warm and so wet, her juices soaking me and I sink into her depths. She lifts up and down, circling around and gaining a steady rhythm, licking around her lips as she does it.
“Fuck, Aiden, Fuck.”
I wake up on the sofa to find I’ve got my cock in my hand and drool running from the corner of my mouth. Fuck the drool. I pump my cock carrying on the fantasy in my brain, imagining Kaylie is riding my cock until I come in my fist.
And then I want to die with shame because that’s my first ever sex-dream about my best friend. I have never, ever seen her that way, at ALL, until last night when I saw a glimpse of her tits.
I go clean up while I berate myself. I’m pathetic. A totally pathetic paid-up member of the male species and I should be flogged for my crimes. But something’s nagging at me and I hate the fact the dream seemed so real.
Kaylie will be up now. I dial her number.
“Kay-bear?”
“Bit fucking early for you this, isn’t it? You shit the bed?”
“Daft question but… you’re not a virgin are you?”
There’s a long awkward silence before she snaps. “Of course I’m not a fucking virgin. I dated Phillip for years for a start. Plus, I’ve told you about when I lost it and how awkward it all was.”
“I just wanted to check you weren’t lying.”
“Why? Would I get more hits on the dating site if I said I was? Actually don’t answer that. I can work that answer out for myself. Are you still pissed? Have you not actually gone to bed, just carried on drinking?”
“I’m just updating your profile.” I lied, “and yeah, you’re right, stupid question, stupid idea.”
“Certifiable you are sometimes, Aiden Thomson. Now go away, I have more intelligent people to hang around with today, and they’re all five so that’s saying something.”
She hangs up and I groan again.
I really do need to make her dating profile.
First, a shower and breakfast.
I’m not working today and once I’ve done this profile I’m off to visit my sister and the kids. I sit down with a slice of toast and fire up the laptop that had run out of juice and switched itself off while I was in my beer coma. I upload the photos from my phone. The photos of Kaylie begin to flash up on the screen as thumbnails. Wow, I took a LOT. Thirty-six photos in fact. Clicking onto the first one I bring it up close.
On this one Kaylie is still standing like she has a crooked wire coat hanger down her back. Awkward and ungainly. Her untied hair hangs in her face. I feel a stab of affection for my awkward but lovely best friend. As I click along the snaps, the pictures become something else entirely as Kaylie sheds her awkwardness with each subsequent shot. She’s laughing, the wine having loosened her up. Her eyes are sparkling, whether through laughter or alcohol it reveals more of her joviality. She’s fluffed and rearranged her hair and it cascades over her shoulders and I want to reach in and run my hands through it.
What?
I shove the laptop away from me like it’s a contagious disease.
I will tell myself one more time, I say in my head sharply. BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE. OKAY?
My dick hardens in response.
Stupid dumbass male body.
Regardless of the fact my mind and body are betraying me right now, I have a task to do; so like the hero I am, I crop the photos, making them the best they can be. I don’t doctor them in any way; to be honest she doesn’t need it.
Opening her dating profile, I add a headshot and a full-length and then I start to edit her profile.
Name: Kaylie Hale
Occupation: Primary School Teacher. Full time temptress.
Age: 29. Old enough ;)
Looking for: Primary school teacher who loves kids and can’t wait to have a family of my own. Hot single man to treat me like a goddess.
I carry on with the rest of her application in much the same vein, taking out her desperate sounding responses and replacing with Kaylie as femme-fatale; the kind of woman I’d pick if I was looking on a dating site.
Then I guffaw with laughter because I’ve never had the need to look on a dating site. I get so much pussy I’m surprised I’ve not been given charitable status as a pet rescue.
That does make me wonder who does look at dating sites? I hope there is at least one normal bloke on there that can take my bestie out.
I realise that while I’m thinking of someone taking her on a date, I’m imagining the Kaylie I know, the frumpy one. But, if she were to make an effort…
A weird tight sensation occurs in my gut. Must be all the beer. I close down the laptop and I start thinking about curdled milk to take my mind off creamy tits. I wonder if hers actually look how they did in my dreams?
Oh God, what is happening to me?
I rock up to my sister’s semi-detached house later that afternoon. The twins are five in December and are in their first year at school. She answers the door looking fraught and as I enter, I can hear the loud squeals and shouts of two small tearaways.
“Uncle Aiden is here.” She yells, following with a whisper of, “thank fuck.” Two dark-haired, dark-eyed boys run through into the hall and throw themselves at me yelling my name.
I hold out my hands, each containing a Lego Duplo set.
“Go take these into the living room and I’ll come help in a minute.”
“We don’t need help, Uncle Aiden. We’re big boys.” Thomas says, while Adam, who’s a little quieter, nods his head vigorously.
“That’s me told.” I say to my sister as they run off.
“Come through to the kitchen and I’ll make us both a hot drink.”
“Coffee would be good. Extra spoonful in it please.”
“Rough night?”
“Kay came over and we worked on her dating profile. I needed beer to survive.”
Kay and my sister were friends—of course they’d also been in the same class—but they weren’t close like we were. Steph had always been much more girly and very, very, bossy
. So they were friends in that they’d chat like fishwives sometimes if Kay came to family events, but not enough that they met separately. She was my friend and Steph had always laughed about how protective I was over her.
“Kaylie got you to look at her dating profile? She must be desperate.” She laughs as she pours water into two mugs.
“Well I am a hot-blooded male. I just told her she needed to rid herself of the hobo look she had going on.”
“And you’re still alive?” Steph is wide-eyed.
“I gave her a lot of wine. Anyway, her profile is all updated now. I finished it this morning. Only I have to help her somehow. She was talking about sperm donation.”
“She wants you to father her child? Oh my god, Aiden. How did you handle that? You know I always thought you two were a perfect match and just needed your heads banging together.”
“STOP RIGHT THERE.” I shout, shaking my head.
“No. She did not ask me to father her child. She just thought she might end up taking that route if things didn’t work out in a natural way. That’s why we decided to rework her dating application, so she can try to get a decent date. You know, Kay. She’s not going to be happy with sperm donation. She wants all the hearts and flowers.”
My sister’s face dulls. “Yeah, well you don’t always get that.”
I walk over to her and hug her hard. “I know you don’t. I know for you the journey was incredibly difficult; but Kay doesn’t face difficulties in conceiving as far as we know. She just needs to put herself out there in the dating world more.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Look at what your journey brought you anyway. Worth every bit of the pain.”
Steph beams. “They really were. Now, do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Exactly. The sound of silence which no parent ever wants to hear because it means their kids are up to something.”
We take our drinks into the living room to find they’ve unearthed Steph’s Parlour Palm. It lays out of its pot across the carpet where the new Lego Duplo digger and farm set are making their home in it.
Steph turns to me sighing.
I shrug my shoulders.
“May as well let ‘em carry on while we finish our drinks at least.”
She nods. “Why not?”
My phone rings just as I’m about to take my seat. I switch my drink to my left hand and take it out from my pocket with my right.
Kaylie. I bet she’s seen her profile and is calling to thank me.
I answer.
“Hey, Kay-bear.”
“Do not ‘hey Kay-bear’ me. What the fuck have you done?” She screeches down the phone.
It’s so loud even the boys hear it.
“That lady just said a really bad word.” Adam looks disgusted and then he lifts the digger’s scoop and blasts a load of soil onto the carpet.
Looking at my sister’s face, I realise I’m in trouble with two women at the same time.
Well that’s just fabulous.
“What’s up?” I scratch at my chin wondering what I’ve done wrong.
“What’s up?” she repeats. “I have seventeen responses already to my new profile.”
“That’s fantastic.” I tell her but with how she says her next sentence in a slow drawn out, I-will-kill-you way, I guess I’m wrong.
“They all want to show me a good time. Every single application gives me either a description of their penis or asks me if I’m into some salubrious practices. I went to see what you’d done to my profile and there’s no wonder. I sound like a hooker.”
“I just made you…” I pause because I have to watch what I say in front of four-year-old ears. “More appealing?” I hedge.
“I’m currently sitting with my application trying to undo some of the damage. Seriously, Aiden. I thought you were supposed to be helping.”
She ends the call.
I find my sister staring at me.
“What did you do now?”
“Can I borrow that?” I nod towards the digger. “Got myself in a bit of a hole, and not the ones I like.” I wink.
5
Kaylie
Even as I’m staring at my new profile information that Aiden so helpfully edited for me, my notifications are blowing up.
I wonder how many more dick pics I can get in one day? I wonder. I’ve seen enough cocks today to last me a lifetime and I know for a fact that not one of them belongs to my future husband and father to my kids.
What the fuck was Aiden thinking making me sound like a desperate hooker who’d give it up for free?
I tap at my keys, although not hard enough to actually type anything, as I think.
Name: Kaylie Hale
Occupation: Full time temptress. Primary school teacher.
Age: Old enough ;) 29
Looking for: Hot single man to treat me like a goddess. A kind-hearted guy, who doesn’t take life too seriously and is up for a little fun…
I ponder the last one for the longest time. Does it still make me sound like a slut? Does Aiden have a point that I at least need to sound up for some fun myself to pull a decent guy? I almost delete it about a hundred times, but in the end, I decide to leave it for now and see what kind of response I get. I delete all the messages and notifications I received today because let’s face it… they’re all going to be dead ends.
Putting my phone on silent, I carry it through to the bathroom along with my large glass of wine for what I hope is going to be a very long and very relaxing bath.
It’s Friday night. Any respectable twenty-nine-year-old should be out on the town enjoying themselves, but I just can’t face it. Especially after the week I’ve had. My class had a head lice infestation. I lift my hand to scratch my head at the thought alone. It was also nativity planning week, letting the kids know what parts they’ll be playing. I’m already looking forward to the unhappy parents’ phone calls about how their little angel is wasted as a sheep or a donkey.
I shake my head in an attempt to remove the thoughts. School is done for the week, now it’s time to relax.
I light a couple of my favourite candles and pour way too much bubble bath into the tub. The room fills with the scent of vanilla and cherry blossom. I feel my tense muscles start to relax from that alone.
Rushing back to my bedroom, I strip down to nothing and run back through the flat hoping that Cheryl and her boyfriend don’t choose this exact moment to walk through the front door.
Thankfully, I make it without flashing anyone. Shutting and locking the door behind me, I reach for my phone and pull up my favourite playlist.
The water is a little too hot and it stings as I sink down into it, but I welcome it knowing it’s to relax me and my body will acclimatise in a moment.
Resting back, I close my eyes and let my day wash away. Vivid descriptions of men’s cocks, actual photographs of men’s cocks, and an array of propositions, some of which I had no clue what they were asking for, magically disappear.
I must fall asleep at some point because the next thing I know, I duck down a little and the water’s cold.
“Fuck.”
Sitting up, I make quick work of washing my hair and body. Pulling the plug, I climb out and reach for the towels.
“Bollocks.” I fucking knew I’d forget that I put them in the wash before work this morning. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I take my make-up off in the hope that by hopping from side to side to keep warm, I’ll have drip-dried enough to run back to my bedroom by the time I’ve finished.
I’m fresh faced, slightly buzzed from my wine and dry enough not to leave soggy footprints through the house when I turn and flick the lock.
I listen for a few seconds to make sure no one’s in the hallway before pushing the handle down and preparing for the quick sprint. Only when I pull the door, nothing happens.
What?
Assuming I did something wrong, although I’m not sure how I could open a door wrong
, I try again.
Nothing.
Grabbing it with both hands, I pull with everything I have; only my feet aren’t as dry as I thought they were and they slip out from under me, leaving me in a heap on the tiled floor.
“Owww,” I complain as pain shoots up my spine.
Sitting in my own puddle of bath water, I run through my options.
Call for help or climb out of the window of our second floor flat and find help.
So really there’s only one option.
I carefully get to my feed, kill the music that still playing on my phone and find Cheryl’s number.
It rings and rings and eventually just goes to voicemail.
“Where the fuck are you? I’m stuck in the fucking bathroom.” My phone beeps and I pull it from my ear. “Shit.” Hanging up quickly, I stare at the one percent battery and rush to find my next option.
“Hey, Kay-bear. You forgiven—”
“Shut up, I need your help.”
“You need—”
“I said shut up. I need rescuing, I’m stuck in—” Beep beep beep.
“Fuuuuuuck,” I cry just about refraining from throwing the damn thing across the room.
I try turning it on again as if it has some kind of magic power, but all I get is the empty battery sign simply flashing back at me obnoxiously.
Now what the hell do I do? Sit here waiting in the hope my mostly absent roommate comes home tonight? It’s pretty unlikely because her and Rick seem to spend every weekend together. When she does show her face here it’s usually weeknights when he’s got to be up early for work.
My back hits the wall and I slide down until my arse hits the cold tiles. A shiver runs up my spine but other than huddle next to the towel rail, or re-run the bath and get back in, I’m pretty fucked right now. I’ve even drunk all my wine. Why didn’t I bring in the bottle? Like that’s the most pressing issue at this time.
I’ve no clue how much time has passed but I’m cold, hungry, and tired. I was hoping to be in my pyjamas, tucked up in bed with a soppy romance film on the TV and a tub of ice cream in my hands, yet here I am. Although, on the plus side, I now know that this bathroom has twelve floor tiles, of which only six are full tiles, and eighty-four wall tiles. And, I fucking hate them. Why anyone would choose this cream and burgundy floral design, fuck only knows.
