Hate to Love You(8)

Brilliant, my chance to get crude with cantankerous Caroline had come. That’s alliteration by the way. I passed my English retake with an A.

I glanced toward the sitting room. “It’s a pity James will be Down Under until the wedding. That’s three months for him to jerk off at his hotel all alone. Why don’t you give him some pussy tonight? Show the poor sod you care.”

Caroline stopped grating. “That would only show that I’m a slut, like you.”

“Never underestimate the power of the pussy.”

I popped a cherry tomato into my mouth, moaning in pleasure as I chewed. Her face turned a blotchy red and she grabbed a cucumber, slicing it viciously. Jesus, was she uptight or what? I bent down to get the plates from my mother’s hand-painted wooden cupboard. The red poppies on the doors grew and rippled in front of me and I swatted one away.

“What’s wrong, Caro? Are you afraid you won’t measure up in the sack? Surely James has copped a feel and told you what he likes? Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same to him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Copping a feel is for women like you. I’m saving myself for marriage, especially after what happened to mother. I’ll be a real virgin on my wedding night and never know the touch of another man.”

Oh for fuck’s sake! Caroline belonged in the Middle Ages. Only sleeping with one man your entire life? No fun and games before you committed yourself to lifelong misery? No thanks.

“Sounds bloody boring to me,” I said. “And all that pain on your wedding night when you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. Take it from me, Caro, virgin sex hurts like hell. A man’s penis is like a crowbar, stretching you open and tearing you up even if he takes it slow. The head looks like a red Nazi helmet and it’s like, really wide...and that’s the bit you’re going to have to deal with first, all swollen and pokey. Once it’s jammed inside you’ll have to pee so bad you think you’ll burst, but all you can do is struggle not to leak while he pumps into you.”

Caroline stopped slicing, the colour draining from her face.

I resisted the urge to laugh. “If you’re lucky, your hymen will break before James rips your vagina apart. You’ll still be begging him to stop ’cause it hurts so bad, and then you’ll bleed like you’ve got your period. But don’t worry—he won’t care about the mess. He’ll be ramming his penis inside, over and over, rutting away for all he’s worth, grating your tender skin like you just did that carrot. And when it’s all over it’ll feel like you’ve got thrush.”

Caroline’s face was ashen. “You’re deliberately trying to scare me.”

“Just telling it like it is. Don’t go easy on the booze at your reception. James will want to screw all night since he’s been such a good boy. He’ll be like that geyser you saw in Iceland, ready to blow every hour on the hour.”

Caroline frowned. “That’s where you’re wrong. My fiancé is not the sort of man you’re used to.”

I widened my eyes. “You mean he’ll be happy with blow jobs?” She looked nauseous at the suggestion. “Men love getting head, Caroline. If I were you I’d take that cucumber and start practicing. Nothing disappoints a guy more than a woman who won’t go down, or worse—one who won’t swallow.”

“You’d know all about that,” she said maliciously.

The smile drained from my face and I stared at her, lost in my agonising past. “Thanks to you.”

Caroline tut-tutted. “Delusional as usual—the drugs did a once-over on your sanity.”#p#分页标题#e#

Her denial wasn’t surprising but it filled me with frustration all the same. Sometimes people convince themselves the lies they tell are the truth, as I suspected Caroline had. Sure, I’ve told my fair share of porkers, from little white gaps in reality to whopping black holes. But I don’t confuse my lies with the truth and I never lie to myself. The weird quirk that allows me to see the truth in others makes it impossible not to see it in myself.

That sucks, believe me.

Looking at Caroline I wondered again why she’d always hated me. For a crazy moment I wished we were like normal sisters, ones who loved each other, shared clothes and confided things. I would be happy for Caroline’s marriage and she would help me with my pregnancy dilemma. We would hold hands and find a park to make daisy chains in, laughing and rolling around on the grass.

Shit, the upper was making me delusional. I needed a distraction and Caroline’s sour expression said she was dissatisfied with more than our shabby house and my smutty conversation.