The List (14 page)

Again he nodded.

‘Oh, COME ON! Give me some feedback here! What was it like? Was it good?'

He glugged his wine, ‘It was OK. Bit of a let-down actually. It felt like someone was always waiting their turn, and unless everyone is totally into it, it's rather pointless. I did get to shag two women though.'

‘Hang on, I'm confused. So if it wasn't that great, why do it again with me?'

‘Didn't you hear me? I get to shag two women.' Fair enough.

He's agreed to ‘look into it', like some sort of sexual private investigator.

Friday April 15th

I didn't get a chance to ponder my threesome for too long before I got the phone call.

‘Phoebs! Remember Simone? The girl from work? She's agreed. The threesome. Are you up for it?'

‘What? Yes? NO! It's one thirty in the morning, I'm in bed. I have big hair.'

‘Don't bother getting dressed then. We'll be there in half an hour.'

‘What? Now—' But he'd hung up.

Yes, cool as a cucumber, Oliver had been to the burlesque night and somehow convinced his date to have a threesome. Just like that. Oh shit. I could have killed him, and did in fact plan his demise as I showered, brushed my teeth, hid my pyjamas and stuck some sexy undies on. What the hell was he thinking? And, more importantly, who the fuck was he bringing? If he brings a beast, they're both leaving, but he won't; she'll be gorgeous and I'll just be the third wheel. Why did I say yes? I still haven't made up my mind about the whole ‘girl on girl' dilemma, and now the decision has apparently been taken out of my hands. I would have liked to have at least had a peek at her first.

An hour later the doorbell rang and in came Oliver and Simone, looking very pleased with themselves and obviously
tipsy from their night out. He was wearing a suit and tie and she was wearing a wiggle dress, complete with amazing red shoes I wanted to try on.

She wasn't a beast thankfully: blonde hair, tiny compared to me, and pretty, like a little doll. He stood with his hands around her waist, nuzzling her neck, and I stood there not knowing where the hell to look. To say that the next few minutes were uncomfortable would be an understatement. I think I even offered them tea at one point, but when we finally made it into the bedroom the kissing started, which was a perfect excuse not to talk any more. Oliver seemed different somehow with Simone. He was very assertive, almost to the point of domineering, and she played along, doing exactly as she was told. I felt awkward. But, I thought, when in Rome …

Oliver and I kissed, Oliver then kissed Simone, and then he said to me sternly, ‘Kiss her.' So we kissed, which I have to say was very,
very
nice. The whole thing was a blur after that. There was lots of touching and more kissing, hands were everywhere and I remember lots of questions firing in and out of my mind: would they prefer it if I wasn't here? Does he prefer her body to mine? Should I have shaved it all off? As we all got completely naked, I forgot about my insecurities and actually started to enjoy it. Maybe I was into girls? Maybe this could be the start of something new? But as I went down on Simone my questions were answered with a resounding ‘NO!' like a big, booming, Brian Blessed voice from above.

The kissing was great. Feeling her body was amazing … but as soon as I went south it didn't feel right. I can't
explain it, but I didn't enjoy it. I felt like a fumbling teenager who'd never been near a vagina and didn't have a clue where anything was. Sounds odd now when I think about it: I have a vagina and an in-depth working knowledge of where all the good parts are, but with someone else's right there in front of me, I didn't have a clue. Oliver quickly rescued me and we kissed as he fucked her. Afterwards I threw on some clothes and sat in the living room while they got dressed. They came through shortly afterwards, thanking me for a lovely time and calling a cab to Oliver's. And I was left, face in hands, cringing. Another challenge crossed off the list and the verdict? Completely terrifying and totally out of my comfort zone. I can understand why Oliver thought his previous threesome was a let-down; it felt contrived and my lack of experience with women made me feel like an idiot. So unless I get a
Cunnilingus for Dummies
handbook pretty soon, I can't see myself rushing to do it again. I guess when there are three of you, someone is always going to feel like the odd one out. Tonight it was me. Perhaps it would be easier with two men?

Saturday April 16th

I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing and for a second thought it might be Oliver announcing he was returning with Simone for round two. Thankfully it was Paul, calling to invite an extremely exhausted me to a gathering at his house tonight. ‘It's just a wee party for my birthday, nothing fancy, and also an excuse to show off my
boyfriend Dan. He's flown over from New York and I'm hoping he won't fly back, so be nice!'

‘I'm always nice! It's Lucy you should be warning!'

‘Oh, don't worry, she's been well warned. Well, threatened actually. Hazel can't make it and Oliver is busy, but it should be fun! Anyway must dash – see you at eight?'

At six I grabbed something for dinner. In hindsight, garlic bread was not the best idea, but since Paul came out, the only men he introduces me to are gay (apart from one guy he calls ‘Bald John'), so kissing was definitely off the menu.

I arrived at Paul's new flat, which is a typical bachelor pad in the city centre. Everything is modern, oversized and very spare apart from the huge Salvador Dali print on one wall. Over the noise of the chatter, I could just make out Madonna's ‘Immaculate Collection' coming from the iPod dock. Good choice.

I kissed Paul on the cheek, very conscious of my garlic breath, but hopeful that booze would mask it and make it possible for me to have a conversation with someone from less than ten feet away.

Lucy was already there, carrying round a plate of oddly shaped nibbles. ‘I made spinach balls. They went a bit wrong.' I nodded in agreement and made my way back over to Paul to avoid having to sample them.

‘I should have got some more chairs. I hate it when people lean against the wall.'

‘Who are all these people? I hardly know anyone!'

‘They're mainly work colleagues and partners. I didn't expect everyone to show up! I might need to get more booze.'

‘Well, where is he then? Where's the new fella? I want to meet him!'

‘See that guy over by the window talking to that young lad? That's him.'

And there, standing beside Paul's new boyfriend, was Richard. I turned around quickly and hissed, ‘What the hell is he doing here?'

‘What? Dan's the reason I'm having this party! What do you think? Hot, eh? His ass is—'

‘No. Richard. The one he's talking to. The boy – Richard. I've slept with him. I've been ignoring him! This will be entirely awkward.'

I felt a tray of misshapen spinach balls being thrust in between Paul and me.

‘Sorry, Phoebe, Sam brought him, but they're heading off soon. Just smile and he'll vanish shortly.'

But he didn't vanish shortly. He didn't even vanish when Sam left. He stayed completely visible and followed me around all evening, telling me how he couldn't stop thinking about me and how I wasn't like any other women he knew. Where the fuck did all this come from?

‘What the hell is wrong with you?' I asked abruptly after he'd almost followed me into the bathroom.

‘I can't stop thinking about you,' he gushed. ‘The way your body felt and how you smelled and I keep replaying it over and over and—'

‘Look, Richard, I'm not interested,' I snapped. ‘You're a lovely guy, but you're far too young for me. We had some fun. Let's just leave things the way they are, OK?'

‘BUT I WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!' he yelled. Christ, he was having a tantrum! I thought he might turn into Rumpelstiltskin and demand my firstborn.

Lucy finally convinced him to go home and I spent the rest of the evening feeling like shit. I had completely, but unintentionally, led this guy on. I'd assumed that because I hadn't given him a second thought, he'd done the same.

I feel like a complete prick.

Sunday April 17th

Lucy called off our lunch date to meet up with Sam, so rather than leave the house I chose to spend the afternoon in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness and playing with my toys. I started to get carried away and then just like that: it happened! I felt like I was going to pee so I kept going, I thrust harder and I came. Loudly and probably shouting, ‘I AM SPARTA!' due to the fact I was fantasizing about Gerard Butler (I hope to God I didn't). It was astounding. My vibrator looked like it had been run under a tap and the wet patch was mighty impressive. I SQUIRTED! Oh, hooray for me, I'm almost a porn star! Well, apart from the fact that my family still speak to me and I'll never bleach my anus. I also felt like I'd been punched in the face with a narcolepsy fist, and fell asleep in record time afterwards: right in the wet patch. Masturbation challenge complete and quite frankly I deserve a medal – I worked hard at this one.

I made the mistake of texting Oliver when I woke up and it took him precisely seventeen minutes to arrive at my flat.
I didn't even have time to get dressed before he threw me back down on the bed, romancing me with the words, ‘Let's get a look at this then.'

Despite leaving me with an extremely sore pubic bone after his first attempt, he's now managed to get it down to a fine art. I can see him looking at the sheets afterwards thinking ‘I did that'.

He left around midnight, grinning to himself. I threw the bed sheets into the washing machine and fell asleep on the couch. Fuck, it makes a right mess.

Wednesday April 20th

I woke up at seven this morning to eight missed calls and a text message, all from Richard:

U R a cold hearted bitch, dont eva contact me again

Eva? Grr. And THEN, halfway through my working day, an email pops up from Alex. Fucking ALEX. I actually held my breath as I read it, because as everyone knows, holding your breath acts as some sort of force field to deflect emotionally damaging emails.

A kiss and everything. What the hell is going on? I haven't replied yet. I don't think my work email swearing filter could cope.

Thursday April 21st

Lucy and Sam have broken up because he thinks I'm a dick and she doesn't. Well, that's the way she explained it anyway. For some reason Richard seems to think we had something really special and he's been telling everyone how I dumped him and how he's never going to feel the same about anyone ever again. EVA, EVA, EVA. I certainly know how to pick ‘em. I must remember to physically remove the heart of my next shag.

Frank has his date tomorrow night with the checkout girl, Vanessa. He's taking her to some pretentious seafood restaurant near the Clyde where they serve flaming seahorse or something. We went over things at lunchtime to prepare him.

‘OK, Frank, let's run over some possible scenarios. If she compliments something you're wearing …'

‘Thank her and don't mention how much it cost.'

‘Correct. Do not compliment her immediately after, as this will look insincere. Next, if your waitress looks like Cameron Diaz, you will …'

‘Become aroused. Oh, stop scowling, I'm kidding. I will
not leer at her or pay her more attention than Vanessa.'

‘Good. This also includes when Vanessa goes to the toilet. Don't use that an excuse to smarm all over the hot waitress. Have some respect.'

‘Anything else?'

‘Yes, wear something blue. You suit blue.'

‘Oh. Do I?' He began to blush a little. ‘I was expecting you to say something mean there. Blue, huh? Noted.'

Friday April 22nd

It's the Easter weekend so no work until Tuesday, which couldn't have come at a better time, as my period has arrived and I'm insanely hormonal. I want to laugh, cry and start a fight all at the same time, but most of all I just want to have sex. Oh, how I want to have sex. Oliver says he doesn't mind that I have my period, but this time I do. I feel about as sexy as a potato. Also, a huge spot has appeared on my face, so between that and my menses misery I'm staying put in my flat. Frank's date is tonight. I wonder if he'll fuck it up? Bet he does. Bet he forgets everything I've said and just goes on about how much he sold his soul to Satan for. Why am I thinking about Frank when I'm not even in the office? Behave.

Tuesday April 26th

I cornered Frank after the morning meeting, desperate to find out how his date went. Purely so I could tell him where he went wrong, of course.

‘I think it went all right,' he said sheepishly. ‘Dinner was
great and I was the perfect gentleman.'

‘Did you perv over the waiting staff?'

‘No, I didn't find our waiter Sean attractive.'

‘Ha. OK then, so what's next?'

‘Well, Vanessa's agreed to see me again so that's a good sign. Oh, and she's not just a checkout girl, she actually owns the business but isn't afraid to muck in. Not that it matters, of course.'

‘So why the long face?' I asked, perching on his desk. ‘No goodnight kiss?'

‘We did kiss goodnight. It was nice.'

‘So?'

He stared at the wall silently for a moment. ‘How long has that painting been upside down?'

‘I hadn't noticed,' I lied. ‘Answer the question.'