I’ve been staying in Robyn’s spare room now for two months, and loving every minute of it. It’s an old Georgian two bedroom terraced house situated just outside the city but close enough for work and socialising. My room is at the back of the house with a small double bed, wardrobe and drawers for my things. It might not sound like a lot, but its mine, all mine and no guy can take it from me. The look is kind of boho chic meets thrift shop, which is the extent of my finances right now. I have my own small ensuite with toilet, sink and shower, which is a Godsend on nights out because Robyn is the slowest and messiest girl ever at getting ready. She has to unload every lipstick she owns into the sink before she finds the right shade of red to go with her outfit. She can empty a whole can of mousse or hairspray in one go, and don’t get me started on her fake tan. Yes I love her, but she’s a pig when it comes to being tidy.
That’s where Chris comes in handy. Chris my partner in crime and gay best friend. He always tells me ‘every beautiful girl has to have a hot gay guy on her arm’. And he loves to tell me that he is mine, and no one else can have me. He makes me laugh like no one else with his floppy blonde hair and cute pretty boy face. People always mistake us for a couple on nights out, probably because we are usually draped all over each other, dancing disgracefully or declaring undying love for each other after a few glasses. You know if he wasn’t gay he would be my ideal man, he loves empowering women and he has built me up from the gutter since that day I rang Robyn with nowhere to go.
“Baby girl I never liked that twat from day one and his hair looked like a frikkin piece of Lego, you were way too good for him. What was he thinking anway? A four out of ten with a ten, he was punching well above his weight….” were just a few of the motivational phrases he fed me on a daily basis until I turned around and said, “You know what, fuck him. He has taken up enough time in my life, I just want to have fun and be me now.”
“That’s my girl!” he’d say with a flick and a click of his wrist.
Chris lived a bus ride away in a shared house in the city, close to us but not close enough. So most nights he slept on our sofa or one of us would let him sleep in with us. He hated his housemates, and I couldn’t blame him they sounded like morons. Playing death metal at all hours, or smoking weed and leaving mess everywhere they went. Chris was a neat freak, so he came round to ours, where it smelt fresh and girlie, and he cleaned our apartment in payment for his nights with us.
His role in my life didn’t end there though, oh no Chris truly was a friend in need. Not only did he pick me up spiritually, mentally and socially but also financially. Chris worked in a small but up and coming advertising agency in the city. Once I was settled into the apartment he organised a meeting for me with one of the owners and exactly a week after that I started working in the same advertising agency as Chris, doing what I loved with the nicest, kindest people I had met in a long time.
Yes, life was on the up and nothing or no man was going to bring it down. Days were spent working and learning more about my chosen field with my best friend; nights I was at home drinking wine and laughing like I had not a care in the world. On the weekends and maybe the occasional week night if there was a good gig on, I’d find myself in a city of dancing, drinking, partying and socialising that I never thought I would ever be a part of.
Sure I still had times where I missed the warmth of a man’s body in the bed next to me, someone to hold my hand when I felt low or hug me to tell me everything would be okay. But I never missed Adam, I never wanted to see Adam Booth again for as long as I lived.
I’d heard through mutual friends that he had been seen out with a variety of women. The split didn’t affect him at all, except for his laundry and household chores suffering I’ve no doubt. However, picturing him with other women didn’t bother me like I thought it would. Did that mean I’d never really loved him? Maybe I hadn’t, maybe it was just teenage lust followed by the comfort of what I knew and being too afraid to go it alone. He’d been safe and secure at a time when I wanted an anchor to steady my life. Shame that anchor turned into a blooming anvil crushing my life.
Chapter Three
“Hey baby girl, give us a look at what you wearing!” Chris poked his head around my bedroom door looking primped, preened and perfectly lush with his blonde hair slicked back. He was tanned with his skin literally glowing and wearing a pink shirt, opened half way down to his chest to show a smattering of chest hair and paired with the skinniest jeans I’d ever seen a grown man wear.
“If you turn up in that towel number you’ll have them all falling at your feet!” He joked.
“You’re so funny.” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I don’t know Chris, I think I might just go with the brown shift dress I brought the other day.”
I was rubbish at putting outfits together.
“Are you kidding me right now? That is a work outfit, no, no way and nadda. You are not going out like that girlfriend. You are 24 years old Ella not 64, live a little. Let’s have a look in your wardrobe and see what Uncle Chrissy can magic together.”
I was so pleased he said that because I just knew he’d pull together something sensational, he always did.
Chris marched into my room like a man on a mission. The towels around my body and head didn’t faze him, he was going to be my fairy gaymother and transform me into a club worthy diva fit to walk in on his stylish arm, and no
one or nothing was getting in his way. He delved into my wardrobe like a kid searching through a candy box for his favourite treat, pushing outfits aside with a look of disgust on his face and making the odd groan or moan. Great, I didn’t think my style was quite that bad.
“Stop right there and call the cops, you are going to be stealing hearts all over the city tonight when you show up in this….”
Chris pulled out a miniscule piece of red satin that dared to call itself a dress. I’d even forgotten it was in there, how did he find that? We’d been out day-time drinking a few weeks ago and made the fatal mistake of wandering into Harvey Nicks. A whole head full of wine and false bravado and I brought the ridiculous and well over priced dress convinced that yes I could carry it off, I was a new woman with confidence and sass. The next morning after the buzz had died and the head ache taken its place I had taken one look at that dress and vowed I would never drunk shop again. What was I thinking? It was a halter neck satin number, with two strips that fell down over my boobs, leaving my whole chest, shoulders and belly button exposed. It was backless and very sexy but so not me. I couldn’t carry it off. It was short, sassy and with my history of clumsiness, a disaster waiting to happen.
“Chris I can’t wear that, it’s just too much…well not enough actually. I’ll look like a hooker and not a classy one.”
“Will you just shut up, you can wear the ass off this dress. Babes let me style you and I promise I will make you look sensational. If you hate it when I’m done we’ll find another outfit but please give it a go. I’ll keep it classy.”
Chris put his hands together in mock prayer and started pursing his lips and doing cute puppy dog impressions which he knew I was a sucker for. Plus how could I pass up a chance for Chris to style me and do my hair? He was master of the blow-dry in our house.
“Fine. Have fun playing dress up with me but I swear to you now I am not leaving this house with that dress on.”
I teased, but I was intrigued to see what he’d come up with. Maybe he had some trick up his sleeve to cover my modesty? Perhaps a jacket or nicely tailored cardigan could help? Hmmm… I highly doubted they would feature in his style plan by the look of his seductive eyes roaming over my towel covered body.
“You’ll be eating your words when I’m finished with you Mamma” he smiled, and with a click of the straighteners and a flick of the comb he was away and in his element. Working his magic whilst singing along to David Guetta’s Hey Mama.
Chris started on my hair first, teasing it and plumping it until the curls fell like a waterfall down my back. I don’t know how he managed it but I could never get my hair to behave like he could. “Just gorgeous” he nodded to himself, pleased with his creation. Next it was my makeup and I’ve gotta say I was impressed with the smoky eye thing he did for me. It did kinda look hot.
So last was the dress. As I slipped into the material I had to admit it did feel sexy and luxurious on my skin. The satin skated over my curves and clung in all the right places. He tied the two pieces of satin at my neck, and grabbed some tit tape for me to use to keep my modesty in check. Then he took a step back to admire his handy work.
“Damn girlfriend. I am 100 percent homosexual, gay as they come but I so would do you right now.” He said licking his lips and laughing.
“You couldn’t handle me Chris I’m way too much woman for you.”