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The alarm on my phone goes off, reminding me it’s only an hour until the shop opens. I should have the fillings made already. I need to stop daydreaming, get my head in the game, and focus. Even if it’s selfish. But it’s work. I need to work. Except I don’t and… I scream internally. All the messy and complicated considerations of long-term relationships are suddenly and unexpectedly drowning me. Focus, Matt. Macarons.
All the spaces inside the glass counter were filled with ten minutes to spare. Amazing what a good unhealthy dose of stress about your long-term relationships does to your productivity. Although it was touch and go for a while whether it was going to stop me from accomplishing anything at all today, but I’m glad my overly competitive side came to the fore.
It’s been a great day. Sales were through the roof and I had to take orders for many of the gift boxes I’ve been advertising to be collected tomorrow or on Christmas Eve as I couldn’t keep up with the demand. I messaged the group chat to ask whether they could come and give me a hand in the shop, but they didn’t even read the message and neither of them turned up. I could have phoned the flat if I’d really wanted to get hold of them, but I’m exhausted now and back to moping about last night’s events and my realisations that I’m constantly trying to prove myself to Ben and he doesn’t even appreciate it while he was thinking that I wasn’t allowing him to explore another side of our relationship. It’s good that we made some changes last night. I think.
Okay, I’m also jealous as hell thinking about what they might be getting up to without me.
I’ve closed and locked the door once the shop is shut, and am sitting in the kitchen waiting for the full cafetiere I’ve just poured to brew when there’s a knock on the front door. I push myself to my feet, regretting choosing a career that has me on my feet so much of the time. The knock sounds again, and I feel my mobile buzz in my pocket.
“Where are you?”
It’s Ben, but not on the group chat. Then a knock sounds on the back door and I push myself to my feel to open it, trying to avoid groaning as I do so. Isn’t that the first sign of growing old? And having two younger lovers, the thought of it is already an issue for me. Although I’m only thirty. Hardly ancient.
I pull open the door to find Ben standing there alone, his hands thrust deep in his pockets because he always forgets his gloves, his rain-slicked hair looking tousled, as if he’s run his hands through it far more often than usual. He’s far from his usual cocky self.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out as I step back to allow him to come in. But he doesn’t.
“Where’s Jocelyn? Is she out front?” I twist my head to see through the kitchen door, but then Ben’s words sink in and I spin back around to face him. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks and I stare at him, cold prickling down my arms as I try to work out what’s going on. Is he… is he here to end things? Is Jocelyn already gone, or has he already broken up with her and I’m the last to know or—
“I should never have asked you to do that last night,” he says simply. “I know it’s not something you enjoy and I shouldn’t have—”
“Ben,” I whisper, taking a step towards him. I’m almost giddy with relief that this is what it’s about. Or at least I hope that’s all it’s about. He’s not looking at me. In fact, he’s keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and everything about him screams out that he’s ashamed. And suddenly I realise that I would let him do that again right now if it’s what it took to make him happy. “Oh, Ben.”
I pull his hand from his pocket, wincing at how wet and cold he is, take his hand in mine and pull him into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Then I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me, and I kiss him. At first he holds back, his body tense until I whisper, “I will do what it takes to make you happy, Ben. I love you. Putting your needs first for once wasn’t a sacrifice, nor something that’ll make me turn away from you.”
He pulls his head back and we stare at each other, his face registering confusion, then finally acceptance. This time we both move together, our lips meeting as we kiss. It goes from sweet to passionate faster than I expect, and Ben pushes me backwards with his body until he backs me up against the freezer door. I can feel his cock pressing into mine which stirs in response. Our teeth clash as the kiss grows frenzied. Our tongues tangle and his fingers thread through my hair, pulling it in just the way I like it.
“I won’t ask for that again,” Ben says. And although I know he thinks this is what I want, perhaps last night I learnt something about myself.
“You can ask whenever you want, Ben,” I assure him. “I just… I won’t always say yes, but you can always ask. I don’t want you to be afraid to ask for exactly what you want.” I slide my hand inside his jacket, slip my fingers under his t-shirt and along the warm skin of his back.
“Can I watch?” A female voice asks at the same time a door clicks shut, and we turn to see Jocelyn standing against the closed door that leads into the shop itself. Her hands are full of many, many bags and a couple of rolls of wrapping paper. “I came to see if you still needed help, Matt. In the hope that you’d help me carry all this back to the flat. But it seems like you’re too busy. Don't let me interrupt. But, for what it’s worth, it’s good to see you like this.”
“Come here,” I say to her and she dumps the bags and strolls towards us smiling.
“Eww,” she says, when she touches Ben’s jacket. “Take it off.”
“My pleasure,” he says, pulling it off and hanging it on a hook, then his hands go to his belt and he unbuckles it, shrugging. “I’m pretty wet.”
“So am I,” Jocelyn smiles, and I can’t wait to have that mouth wrapped around my cock. Or to watch her wrap it around Ben’s while I watch. “Oh, wait!”
She bends over with her back to us, and I grin at Ben, both of us watching the curve of her ass and the way her skirt rides up to her thighs as she bends over. She’s wearing knee-high boots and I picture myself running my hands down her nylon clad thighs until I reach her boots, then slowly unzipping them, exposing her toned legs. I haven’t bought them gifts yet, I’ve been too busy and suddenly I know exactly what I’m going to get for them. A few days in the sunshine where she can sit with those legs in the sunshine when they’re not wrapped around one or other of us in the bedroom, or the pool, or on the beach.
Ben whistles in appreciation and she snaps upright, a length of greenery coiled in her hands.
“I bought some mistletoe. For the flat. Although if you want me to put it up in the shop, then I can. You could do with some more festive cheer around here, Matt. It’s a bit barren out there.”
“That’s because I sold out of almost everything today,” I say, then I groan. I glance between Ben’s erection pushing open the fly of his jeans to Jocelyn’s pouting lips as she holds the length of mistletoe in her hands. It’s like a mistletoe version of tinsel, about three meters long, with berries and sprigs set along the length. We could wind it around her arms before tying her to the table, or we could tie her ankles with it so long as we were careful not to let it cut into her. Or I could wrap it around Ben’s cock, just for fun. Or tie him up with it. Or… Or… Or…
I groan as reality hits me. One, this is a commercial kitchen and two, I have a business to run and work to do. But, maybe with their help, we can bake the macarons that I need and then head home together.
“Put it in the office,” I say. “And I have a lot of macarons to make. You two could always help.”
“Or we could go back home and wait for you…” Jocelyn says cheekily. “I’m sure we could find something to do to occupy the time while we wait.”
“Matt,” Ben says, and I turn to face him. “You know you don’t need to do this?”
“Do what?”
