Urgh. Rose is going to give me such a hard time. She’ll say lunch or a coffee or even a weeknight early dinner says: let’s see if we’re compatible. Saturday night first dates, according to her, send the wrong signal. That they say sex.
But there’s nothing I can do about that now, so he can think what he likes. If he’s even been to the same dating rules TED talk as Rose. Maybe I can persuade him to accompany me to the movies. Nothing about a trip to the movies screams available for sex, does it?
I certainly wasn’t giving out sexy vibes this afternoon. Vibe being the operative word. I was so indignant. Outraged. Irate! Though not about his offer of a date. I protested that Lulu couldn’t have known what she was wearing, obviously. It’s not called a wrist ring! I said that the charges were ridiculous. When in fact, I was the one being ridiculous. There were no charges, I was reassured. This was just a little chat.
My feathers unruffled a little before I began to protest that I didn’t possess the anatomy to make use of it. I mean, in retrospect, I’m sure the vibrating component works well enough without a penis. But gladly, I didn’t say that. Instead, I just word vomited a load of denials and truths that I really should’ve kept to myself.
She must’ve gotten it from one of her little friends—someone with a father or an older brother, perhaps?
But no, Lulu had already confessed to bringing it in from home.
Well, it’s not mine. I don’t even have a penis!
Blank faces greeted that proclamation.
More than that, I’d added, I currently lack the regular use of a penis in my life!
How I came to agree to a date after that is still a bit of a blur.
What the blueberry fluff muffin have I gotten myself into?
I’m a Saturday-night-agreeing, first-date-planning, single mother of a daughter who took a cock ring to school. What kind of message does that send, if not desperate? Or desperately horny?
The one upside of this whole situation is that a date with another man is gold in the stakes to annoy Carson. Or at least, it should’ve been. Given today is Wednesday and we haven’t seen him since Sunday, the point might be moot. He hasn’t even so much as called, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
Do I want to go out on this date?
Not particularly.
Would I tell Carson that?
Absolutely not. I’d probably do the opposite and lay it on a little thick just to annoy him. After all, I’m not the one with the sexy skeletons dangling in my closet. Probably hanging from silk restraints, still wearing naughty knickers, and—
I halt the thought. I shouldn’t be thinking about closets and Carson in the same sentence. Why do I feel so conflicted about him? Or maybe I don’t feel conflicted at all but rather jealous and resentful that he lives his life without caring for anything. But one thing I do recognise is I’m coming to delight baiting him almost as much as he seems to enjoy annoying the life out of me.
I find it hard to understand how he can be so sweet one minute and the next, all taunting and teasing and all kinds of smoky and sexy. I mean, inappropriate. I hate that I love that look on him even as it makes the blood boil in my veins. I just don’t know whether I’m on my arse or my elbow when he’s around.
But he’s so amazing with Lulu, and when I listened in to their gin party conversation, he seemed genuinely unhappy about the teacher’s interest. And not the “no one else can play with my toys” kind of upset. It’s almost like he’s hiding his real feelings from me. So maybe that makes cowards out of us both.
I don’t want to go out on a date with anyone else, but I will.
It might be we both need punishing.
CARSON
Every morning this week, I’ve woken with a throbbing cock and her name on my lips. Which, I guess, is more than I’d had for a long time, but still nowhere near enough. Fee is the last thing I think of at night. The ghost of her haunts my mornings, my arms reaching out for her in the moments before I become fully awake and leaving me with a hollowness as I realise she’s not with me.
She should be. She will be. Soon.
Over the years, I’ve gone to great pains to keep my life compartmentalised. To keep Ardeo and Hayes Industries separate; to keep my philanthropy under wraps. Philanthropy in the guise of penance, my pound of flesh more a pounding of flesh than anything. But I’ve paid my dues. I deserve something for me now. I see no reason to bring up the past with Fee. I’m not sure how I could explain who I was back then. How angry my grandfather made me. How I wanted to obliterate every sign of him, even the parts of him I carried within myself.