I fired off another text, pushing my luck.
Thursday. I’ll take Thursday, too.
Gemma: You really are throwing the fuck buddy etiquette out the window, hey? xx
Is that what we are? Fuck buddies?
Gemma: I have no fucking idea. ;) xx
I like it. Fuck buddy.
Gemma: Ok, fuck buddy. I’ll see you Tuesday... and Thursday. xx
No, you won’t. But I’ll see you, Dirty Girl.
I couldn’t fucking wait.
Gemma
Tessa had always been the quiet practical type, but she’d lost her shit with me big style, slamming her work bag down in the hallway and letting it rip with both barrels. I’d let her rant, apologising profusely until she calmed down enough to put the kettle on. Then we’d talked about it. Properly.
She wasn’t nearly so understanding as Cara and Raven, but she’d tried. A+ for effort. That’s what I love about Tessa, she tries her best. Always.
“But where’s it going, Gemma? Where does this shit lead? A relationship? Commitment? Hell, you haven’t even seen his face.”
My stomach churned at the thought. “I don’t want a relationship, Tess. I just want the sex.”
“But why, Gem? One day you’re going to have to settle down. One day there’ll have to be someone that counts. How will you find him if you keep fucking around with strangers?”
“One day, Tess, but not yet. I don’t want it yet.”
“Why not?”
I’d sighed, same as always, trying to find words that never came.
I don’t like fucking people I know. How can I have filthy, dirty, crazy sex with someone who wants to hold my hand and cuddle, and plan a rosy little future together? Sex with friends makes me feel icky. Watching a sappy film then asking someone to fuck my filthy asshole raw doesn’t cut it..
I just want the sex.
Sex with dirty strangers, without restraint.
We’d agreed to disagree, and I’d promised never to put her in that position again. Talk, she’d insisted. Talk, and not do crazy shit without warning.
I’d try my best.
“A thousand nice guys would want to be with you, Gem. You’re funny, and pretty, and smart. Why won’t you give one of them a chance? It’s been ages since you’ve been with anyone, ages since you’ve given it a go.”
A thousand nice guys wouldn’t give me to a load of dirty men and watch them fuck me senseless.
I wanted the marriage, and the picket fence and the 2.4 kids. One day. In the distant future. My parents have that, the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. They still smile at each other like there’s no one else in the world, and tell jokes only they understand. They still hold hands on the way to the supermarket, and go to bed at the same time every evening.
I want a happy ever after like theirs, but my happy ever after seems a lot more confusing.
Fuck it, I was screwed. Screwed but happy, at least.
Jason
“You’re on fucking fire, Jay! Get fucking in, lad!”
Trevor was dancing on the spot, whooping with glee as I snatched another ball from Banksy’s feet. I cleared it long, positioning it perfectly for Gallway up ahead. He nipped it to Wood who cleared the way for another goal.
Five a side had never looked so one sided.
Trevor patted my back in the break. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. It’s taken a decade off you, lad.”
It felt like it. I felt fucking amazing.
I ploughed myself into my cardio through the afternoon, aiming for personal best and coming damn close. Physio were pleased too, no sign of injury from the previous weeks; a clean bill of health.
An extra year’s contract wasn’t looking so absurd after all.
The youngsters milled about in the dressing room after training, throwing around banter about hot girls and getting laid. I smirked to myself. Teenagers.
Seemed these teenagers were planning a night on the London town.
“You coming, Jase?” Fernandez yelled. “Kings, Saturday night. It’s my big birthday bonanza. Drink and slick beats and hot puss-ayyyy.”
“I’m a pipe and slippers man,” I laughed. “Unlikely, lads.”
“He’s already got his hot puss-ayyyy,” Banksy jibed. “Don’t need none of that Kings’ shit with April keeping the bed warm.”
If only they fucking knew.
I threw my bag in the back of the Range, smirking to find a text from Steve on my mobile.
When am I getting some, then, mate? Need me a hot piece of chatline chick.
My reply was simple.
Soon.
Not too soon, though. This week she was all mine.
Chapter Eleven
Gemma
Daytime hours on chatline were always slower, but I crammed them in anyway, desperate to free up my evening for Jason. The day dragged. An hour spent pretending to be turned on by cucumbers broke up the monotony, but the day was generally as vanilla as chatline ever gets. Seven p.m. couldn’t come around quickly enough.