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I scrolled through them, screenshot after screenshot of sexy underwear. Lacy bras and knickers, a cute red suspender belt with matching stockings. A corset, and one of those flouncy white babydolls that make your balls tighten.
Jodie wouldn’t take the three hundred, her message said. I tried my fucking hardest, too. I ordered these instead for her, next day delivery.
My mouth was watering, fingers fucking shaking as I scrolled down to the final message.
Big grinning smileys, a load of them, all in a row.
You’re welcome, the text said.
I always make me time plans during Darren’s weekends with the girls, but it rarely happens. Not with the unavoidable mega-clean that I’m obligated to perform to keep the house barely liveable. If there is any additional time, it’s usually spent making sure Nanna gets her weekly trip to the supermarket, and cramming in any extra hours on offer at the cafe. There’s always something that needs doing.
But this weekend started off quite differently.
I woke with a muggy head after a bit more wine than I’m accustomed to, then had the usual panic getting the girls ready to leave for their dad’s. Socks? Check. Clean underwear? Check. No, Ruby, you can’t take the entire contents of your toy cupboard. You’re going for one night, Ruby. One night! Yes, I know Mia’s taking her phone, yes, I know that probably feels like the injustice of the century, but please, for the love of God, just put the monster trucks back in your bedroom! One. Alright, you can take one. ONE!
The rumble of Trent’s truck sounded outside at 9 a.m. sharp, and the girls piled outside before he was even out of the driver’s seat. I waved them off with a happy smile, determined that this weekend would really be it, one for me. I had a playlist of YouTube makeup tutorials lined up, because seriously, makeup is a whole other level of skill than it was when I used to stick on eyeshadow with a bog-standard applicator and wear lippy without a lip liner. Heaven forbid.
Tonya told me so.
I’m learning.
When there was a knock on the door less than five minutes later, I figured one of the girls had forgotten something. My stomach did the dropping-from-a-great-height lurch as I swung it open, but it wasn’t Trent standing there, it was a courier. He held out one of those touch-screen dooberrys for my signature and under his arm was a massive parcel. Surely not?
I was about to say he was at the wrong address when I saw Symmonds and 2 Oak Crescent bold as brass on the screen. I looked at the parcel in shock. It was taped up tight, Priority Next Day all over it.
“Sign please,” the driver said, and I realised I’d been gawping.
I scribbled something barely legible and took the bundle from him. Plain packaging, felt soft, like clothes.
Clothes.
Urgh, Tonya.
I called her up and she answered with a voice that made it clear she was still in bed.
“I’m here staring at a priority next day parcel that feels suspiciously like your doing. Am I right?” I asked.
She grunted and yawned a bit. “Might be…”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re a very good very bad friend, you know that?”
She laughed. “Tell me how bad I am when you’ve opened it. The girls are away, right?”
“Right…”
“Then enjoy. Send me selfies. Later though, I was a-fucking-sleep before you called. You early risers piss me right off.”
“This?! This isn’t early, this is mid-bloody-day for us parents.” I turned the parcel over in my hands, enjoying the rush of excitement that was replacing my muggy head. “I’ll send you selfies,” I said. “Thank you, honestly. I’m really touched.”
“Open it before you say that, and no, I’m not sending them back. No matter what.”
She was gone before I could argue.
I tore open the parcel with less care than I should’ve considering my recent investment in false nails, and let out a gasp as the items tumbled free. Underwear. Raunchy underwear. I held up the suspenders, looked at the posing woman on the front and tried to imagine me in her place. It made me laugh out loud.
I sent Tonya a text. I love you, but you are a very bad influence.
Use them! She sent back. Book yourself in for a bloody Bang Gang before Mandy poxy Taylor takes all the slots!! Live a little!!
Live a little… I’m not sure a five-man fuck-fest counted as living a little, even if it was on my bucket list.
I pulled myself up. Since when has it been on my bucket list?
But I knew since when. Since bloody tuxedo night. My bloody bodywand hadn’t known the meaning of overworked until I saw those guys dressed in their finest. And Trent out of it.
I called to Nanna that I was heading upstairs for a bit, and it mattered little to her since she was busy reading the Saturday Fashion pull-out. I crept away with the raunchy haul in my arms and examined the stash on the bed.
