"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.