‘WHAT? Nope. Uh-uh – no way. You are not fucking my face. Fuck your own face, fuckface.’
‘Are you quite finished?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It’s technically not face—’
‘It’s deep throat!’ I growled, ensuring Molly couldn’t hear. ‘Do I look like Linda Lovelace?’
‘Um . . . it’s hard to tell when your face is all contorted like that.’
I put the note back in the jar and closed the lid. ‘I give you plenty of head,’ I said, grabbing my hand cream off the dressing table. ‘Good head, no – INCREDIBLE head. What’s the fucking problem?’
He watched me furiously rub cream all over my hands with a mild amusement. ‘I’ll explain, if you’ll listen . . .’
‘Hmm.’
‘Didn’t you give me a hand-job with that—’
‘Oliver . . .’
‘OK, I’ll stop.’ He turned me around to face him, making sure I was listening.
‘Firstly – your blow jobs are fantastic. I have zero complaints. This isn’t about that. Secondly – I do NOT want to face-fuck you. That shit does nothing for me.’
Realising I’d applied far too much cream, I started massaging it into my legs too. ‘So what then?’
‘It’s hard to explain. With someone who can deep throat – it’s just a very different sensation. I know not everyone can do it and I’ve only experienced it a couple of—’
‘Who the fuck with?’ Oh God, here comes competitive Henderson. I hate her.
‘Girl at Uni . . . and Ruth. She could do it.’
Oh, of course she could. Oliver’s model ex-girlfriend, with no personality and apparently no gag reflex.
‘Look, all I’m asking is that we try it. I’m not going to force you, for God’s sake. Just think about it?’
I nodded to say I would but I was busy picturing Ruth swallowing Oliver’s entire body like a fucking snake. I needed to speak to Lucy about this.
Friday April 14th
From:Phoebe Henderson
To:Lucy Jacobs
Subject: Help required.
So it turns out that Oliver’s last sex jar request is for me to deep throat him. Turns out that Ruth (remember her, the one who came to Skye with us) could do it and despite my initial concerns, I’m now solely intent on being better at it than she was.
But I’m not sure I can do it. I gag when I’m brushing my tongue ffs.
From:Lucy Jacobs
To:Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Re: Help required
Jesus, it’s only half nine in the morning, dude.
