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A few minutes went by and I could hardly keep focused on the TV. Nanna was going on about the killer, and I could only smile and nod, pretend I knew what the hell she was talking about.
I was shaking as the next message bleeped.
I could stay if you like, just to watch. Keep an eye on things. If you’re nervous, like.
I forced myself to count to ten, slowly, the thought of Darren watching me getting fucked made my pussy squirm. If you could that would be great. I’d feel more comfortable.
Would I really feel more comfortable? My fingers were jittery just at the thought, but there was a thrill there, too. A weird kinky thrill and a strange sense of relief.
That thrill pulsed at my clit.
Bodywand calling.
Shit.
I could barely bring myself to open the following message. My nerves were shot.
I’ll be there, then. No problem.
I typed and re-typed a reply. Words bloody failed me. I forced myself to get a grip, just spit it out and get it out there.
I’ll pay you. Just for watching, if that’s what you want. Whatever you want. Unless you don’t want to.
I sent it and realised what a rambling mess it was. I typed out another before I could change my mind.
I’m trying to say you could be there. Be there be there. Just like any other job. I’ll pay. If that’s what you want. If you don’t, then it’s cool. Just thought I’d say it’s cool with me.
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Nanna pulled a face at me.
“Are you even watching this, Jodie? They’re going to arrest the killer any minute! You’ll miss it!”
“Sorry, Nanna,” I said, and tried my best to be interested.
That went to hell as soon as my phone bleeped again.
I looked at it through splayed fingers.
If it’s cool with you it’s cool with me. No big deal.
I couldn’t hold back the grin.
“Jodie!” Nanna groaned. “You aren’t even watching!”
“Sorry, Nanna,” I said again. “I’m just talking to Darren.”
Her face lit up. “Oh,” she said. She patted my hand. “Then you keep talking to him, love. I’ll tell you who the killer was after.”
“Thanks, Nanna.”
No big deal, I replied. We’re adults. It’s just… sex. No biggy.
Just sex, he sent back. My phone bleeped again a couple of seconds later. You don’t need to pay me, though. I don’t want the money.
How do you even reply to that? I tried not to laugh.
Thanks.
What a ridiculous message. What a ridiculous conversation.
The whole thing was crazy ridiculous.
I didn’t get any other messages, not before Nanna put the TV on standby and announced that the killer was the little old lady with the rose garden the whole time. Her smile was bright.
“It’s always the sweet little oldies,” she said. “You never know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?”
I smiled. “It’s not based on a true story, Nanna.”
“No,” she said. “But still, nowt so queer as folk. It could be old Mary Brown from number ten. She’s a strange one. She has a rose garden, too. She’s always been shifty, that one.”
She had a point. Mary Brown was a strange old bat with a creepy son. Their house was like something from Psycho, only more tea and roses than showers and stabbings.
That’s village life for you. Got to love it.
I waved Nanna goodnight and handled my chores with a spring in my step.
Five men. I’d be having the Bang Gang special.
I’d be having Trent.
Oh crap. Oh crapping crap. I tried my best to stop smiling, but even the cat sick on the kitchen floor couldn’t dampen my mood.
That’s really saying something.
I’d crawled into bed by the time I checked my phone for the last time. It bleeped in my hand the second I’d tapped the Unlock screen, and there it was, another message from Darren.
Been thinking. Maybe we should break the ice, it said. Just so it’s not awkward. Don’t want it to be all weird, like.
The butterflies in my stomach swarmed.
You think we should have sex first? Just us?
My face was burning. My pussy was burning. My heart was . . .
A bleep: Thought it might help. With the nerves. Another bleep. No pressure, just thought I’d put it out there.
I took a deep breath, willed my fingers to calm down and tap the right bloody keys.
Makes sense, I said. Breaking the ice sounds sensible.
Sensible? Like anything about this crazy shit sounded bloody sensible.
I waited for the bleep. Saturday night? Can Nanna have the girls?
I thought through the practicalities. I could happily leave Nanna with the girls after bedtime, when they were already asleep and wouldn’t overload her with laptop squabbles.
Late? About eleven? I’ll get the kids to bed first. Shall I come to yours?
A booty call. I had an actual booty call. With Trent.
Oh my life.
My whole body was on fire.
Another bleep. Eleven at mine works for me.
