30. The Greedy Piggy
THIRTY
The Greedy Piggy
Friday, 1 November, 11.30pm
Only two months left of the dating challenge. At least I had some fabulous sex last month. Apart from lots of orgasms, The Orgasm Expert has given me a sense of freedom. I don’t want to go round having gratuitous sex all the time, but it’s comforting to know I can if I want. I suppose I’d better trawl the dating apps. Time is running out. Those years as a management consultant have left their mark on me. My brain is tuned into objectives, outcomes, deadlines, and key performance indicators. The project-lover in me wants to make the dating challenge work. But how will I measure success? Is it the number of dates, the number of shags, or meeting a soulmate? Somewhere back in the summer after The Hot One, I probably should have done a proper project review and set myself new goals. I’ll just have to go with the flow. I can’t give up now. I’ve never been a defeatist and I’m not going to start now.
Saturday, 2 November, 11.30pm
Went to see Mum and Dad today. They put on a show for me, but the atmosphere was frosty. Every time Dad mentioned Consuela, Mum went to the kitchen. I followed her and she said she’d done a small modelling job and Dad was being grumpy about it. I’ll be forced to stage an intervention if they carry on like this.
‘Why is he being so difficult? I can’t take much more of it,’ she said.
‘Come on, Mum. How many other people can look amazing enough to be modelling at eighty? And you’re married to a man who has adored you from the minute he set eyes on you. Life is great.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘You know, one time, I asked Dad why he never talks about his childhood. He told me it was a tough miserable upbringing, and he was unhappy as a young man, but everything changed when he met you. It was so romantic. I wish I had that,’ I said, to remind her how lucky she is in life.
‘Ah, your dad was so dashing when we met. His love changed my life too. My childhood wasn’t so happy either. You were too young to remember Grandma, but she was so overweight. Over the years, the bigger she got, the less she looked after herself. I used to dread her coming to the school gates or parents’ evenings. The other kids would take a look at her and be vicious with their teasing. She had the weight problem, but I was the one bullied for it.’
Why had she not told me that before? It all made sense now. All those years of being told to stay slim and look my best. She was projecting her fears. She was trying to protect me from the pain she suffered. The weight of criticism lifted from my chest, and I felt a surge of love for her.
‘You’re right, Lovely, I am lucky. And you … you may live a different kind of life, but I’m so proud of you. You’re talented, clever and beautiful, and I have a feeling that very soon you will meet someone who will change your life for the better.’
‘Are you really proud of me?’
‘Of course. You should hear me when I talk about you at the Monday coffee mornings. The other mothers get so jealous.’
OMG. I’ve been waiting for those words for so long my emotions squirted out of my eyes and I howled.
Sunday, 3 November, 11.30pm
Jude texted. Called me a marriage wrecker and told me to keep my nose out of it. I told him his marriage would be fine if he didn’t offer his dick around so much.
Monday, 4 November, 11.30pm
I’ve been messaging ClubLover tonight. He’s fifty-two, a film producer from LA (is that just a hook?) living in London. He has an outdoorsy relaxed vibe and perfect Californian teeth. His profile said he’s adventurous, likes jazz trios and club sandwiches.
Hi ClubLover, is that your name cos you love dancing or club sandwiches?
Well hello Sophia, we could do both at the same time if you like
That sounds fun. I love dancing. And a great club sandwich.
I aim to please. In triplicate!
You’re making me hungry.
We’ll have to do something about that
Ha ha
Care to get together and discuss our favourite all time club sandwiches? Maybe we could recreate them sometime?
Let’s do it.
I warn you though. I’m a greedy piggy as you British say.
I love a bit of food flirting/banter. We’re going to meet in Soho on Thursday.
Tuesday, 5 November, 11.55pm
Went to Ace’s bonfire night/housewarming drinks tonight. I arrived early to give him a hand but found he already had a helper. He introduced her as his neighbour Jacqueline. She was all perfume and false eyelashes, with too much boob on show.
‘Hello Sophia, do call me Jacquie.’
‘Hello Jacqueline. Do you live in this block?’
‘Yes, I’m on this floor, a couple of doors down. I met Ace when he was viewing the flat, and after he moved in, I brought him a welcome plant. And now here I am.’ She looked up at him with adoring eyes.
‘Yes, here you are.’ I forced a smile. It’s not like me to take a dislike to someone so quickly, but I did with her for some reason.
‘Wasn’t that kind of Jacquie?’ Ace asked. I nodded.
‘Jacqueline, is your husband or partner joining us tonight?’ I asked.
‘God, I hope not. I divorced him last year.’ She laughed. Too loud. ‘I found my flat after I got rid of him and I’m so glad I did.’ She eyed up Ace, who was pouring me a drink. She was barking up the wrong tree. Not Ace’s type at all.
‘Jacquie’s been helping me get everything ready. Isn’t that nice?’
I wasn’t sure about her at all. She was obviously on the lookout for her next husband and wanted to get her mitts on Ace. Not while I’m around to protect him. She so isn’t his type.
I was relieved when Leila arrived on her own. I didn’t need two people to annoy me tonight. Apparently, Jude wanted to come so he could apologise to me in person but had to work late as he had a big contract to prepare for his bag business. Yeah right.
It was a lovely party, and I especially enjoyed it when Ace came over and put his arm around me while we were all on the terrace watching the fireworks on the horizon. He’s done that hundreds of times before, but this time it made me tingly and giggly. I looked up at him and he gave me a warm smile, but I went back to watching the fireworks in case he could tell I was having fanny flutters. What the hell is going on, Sophia?
The only downer was the helpful Jacqueline interrupting people’s conversations with, ‘Nibbles anyone?’ every five minutes. I’d had enough of her by the time the party finished.
‘I’ll help you clear up, Ace,’ she said when the three of us were left in the kitchen.
‘Isn’t that nice, Ace?’ I said. ‘But you’ve done so much already. I’ll take it from here,’ I said, and waited, hoping she’d leave. She said she wanted to help and carried on tidying up, so I went to take the bottle of wine in her hand, but she held on to it and it tipped, splashing a massive red splodge down her face and dress. We all froze.
‘I’m so sorry, let me clean that for you,’ I said. Inside, I was pointing and laughing.
‘It’s OK. It’s probably time I went home anyway.’ She kissed Ace on the cheek before saying goodbye.
‘She was only being neighbourly,’ Ace said after she’d finally gone.
‘Yes. And the rest. Didn’t you notice she was fluttering her eyelashes at you? I know she’s not your type, so I was helping you get rid of her.’
‘Were you? I got the distinct impression you didn’t like her. It’s not like you.’
Was that what I was doing? Protecting Ace? I don’t know where all that came from. She’d been nice to me all evening, but she rubbed me up the wrong way for some reason. Grace must have noticed, too, when she asked me why I was giving Jacqueline the dagger eyes. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about.
We were drying the glasses side by side later when Ace said, ‘So what is my type?’
‘You know, someone fun, loyal and positive. A happy, creative, adventurous woman with a sense of style.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I don’t think you know what you want,’ I said.
‘Yes, I do. You just don’t get it.’
More like he doesn’t get it. If we weren’t friends, I’d say I’m much more his type than Jacqueline.
Anyway, I can’t wait to get started on re-designing the flat with him. God, a terrible thought. The second basin isn’t for Jacqueline, is it? Surely not? She’s so wrong for him.
P.S. Winnie agreed with me about Jacqueline and growled at her every time she walked past. Good doggie.
Wednesday, 6 November, 11.30pm
Texted Leila to see what she thought of Ace’s flat. She loved it but thought it needed my magic touch to give it sparkle. Of course.
What did you think of his neighbour Jacqueline?
She was nice enough.
I found her a bit too much. Quite annoying.
Yes, I noticed.
She got on my nerves. She was all over Ace. So shameless.
And what would be wrong with that? They’re both single.
She’s not his type, that’s all.
Really? Anyone would think you were jealous.
Me?! Jealous? Why would I be jealous? Don’t be ridiculous.
Good night xx
Thursday, 7 November, 7.30pm
It was cold outside, but I regretted wearing so many layers while I searched in the busy bar for The Greedy Piggy. I was glowing with perspiration and about to give up when I spotted him in a booth. He reminded me of Owen Wilson but with a perfect nose.
‘Well, hello Sophia. Welcome to club sandwich,’ he said in a chilled Californian accent as smooth as cream.
‘Hello to you too,’ I said breathily.
I took off my layers, then sipped the margarita he’d poured for me, licking the salt from the glass rim without losing eye contact.
‘That dress … does it for me. I’m into you. You know what I mean?’
I nodded. I could get used to being adored like this. Ding-dong!
‘So, you’re a designer? I hope you have some designs on me for tonight.’
I giggled. ‘I’m always full of designs.’
Then a tall woman with a cascade of red hair over her milky shoulders slid into the booth. She put an arm round him and kissed him on the mouth. WTF?
He leaned over and said, ‘Our trio is complete. What do you think, Sophia? She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ He looked into her eyes.
What the double fuck? Were they some sort of exhibitionist couple?
‘Yes, she’s beautiful.’ I couldn’t help being polite. ‘But I don’t understand. What is the trio for?’ I asked, irritated, just as the penny dropped.
She reached under the table and stroked my thigh. I pushed her hand off.
‘It’s cool, man. We all love a club sandwich, right?’ he checked.
‘No, we don’t,’ I said, standing up and collecting my many things.
‘Are you angry, Sophia?’ he asked raising his eyebrows.
Of course I was fucking angry. I didn’t want to be an extra. I wanted the starring role.
I finally got all my stuff together. ‘I’m leaving,’ I pronounced, sticking out my chin and intending to storm out, but the bar was completely packed, and nobody was moving. ‘Sorry, sorry, can I get through? Sorry, excuse me,’ I continued until I was outside.
Who knew what club sandwich meant? Not me. Now I’m sitting outside a bar with a drink and wondering if I was too hasty. A threesome is something I’ve never tried, but how would it work? Who does what? God, I sound like my aunt asking with genuine interest, ‘What do lesbians do?’ My phone pinged.
It’s all cool. If you change your mind, we’ll be at my apartment soon.
He texted me his address, which wasn’t far. Maybe I should stop being so prudish and try something new.
11.30pm
I hesitated outside his apartment door but forced myself to knock. He opened the door, looking buff in an exceedingly small pair of black hipsters. He stroked my back as he ushered me in, and the hairs on my neck stood up. I could see into the bedroom where his –girlfriend? Wife? Sex buddy? – was magnificent in golden lingerie, draped over the bed. They were both so sexy, I thought, go girl, enjoy.
The Greedy Piggy and his piglet pulled me to the bedroom where she unfurled my scarf, pulling a few hairs out with it. Ouch. They removed one glove each, one finger at a time. She tugged the ribbon tie on my coat at the wrong end, winding it into a tight knot, and grappling with it before reaching into the bedside table for scissors and cutting me out of it.
As he took off my cardigan, there was so much static I imagined my hair sticking up in a halo. I touched it and I had imagined right. I quickly smoothed it down and returned to our ménage à trois .
One more layer to go before I was in my underwear like them. Piglet pulled up my dress, but it got stuck, my arms shooting upwards and the dress covering my upper body and head. He intervened with a hard tug, and it came off. Ouch, that nearly took my arms off.
Damn. I’d forgotten about the nude shapewear. I bet she doesn’t even know what shapewear is with that body. He yanked it off over my head. Only the thick tights left. I pulled at them before he attempted it, but I lost balance and fell. When I stood up, they were kissing and caressing, their limbs tangled. Had they gone off the club sandwich idea after the awkward dance of the seven veils?
I climbed onto the bed to get in on the act, caressing his back, cupping his buttocks and licking his ear but it was like I wasn’t there. I lifted my right leg over them and pushed myself up and over to the other side, ending up spooning her and kissing her neck but she was equally engrossed in him. I reached over to fondle a breast as he pulled her tight to him and my hand got stuck between their chests. I was the chicken in the club sandwich, except they’d decided to have a BLT. I pulled my hand just as he released her, and I fell off the bed.
I woke up with a thud. I had indeed fallen, but it was off my sofa. I remembered coming home and thinking I’ll lie down for a minute. I was still wearing all my layers and must have been thrashing around from the heat. I think my subconscious was telling me threesomes are not all they’re cracked up to be. Either that or there is something seriously wrong with me if I’m being rejected in my own sexual fantasies!
I think I’m coming to eat club sandwiches
But you want me as filling for different positions
You advocate the pleasures of a ménage à trois
Isn’t that a bit ooh la la?
You’re cute but she is excess to my needs
I’ll take you on but only if she recedes
The way you two inspect me low and high
Makes me feel like a piece of ribeye
You look like you’re ready to eat
And to you I am just fresh meat
Into your bed I may want to hop
But not with another woman on top
You want me to join your sandwich club
No thanks, I’d rather eat lunch in a pub
You tell me to be open and live free
But you’re after a vagina spree
You look at us both with impish glee
You’re a truly greedy piggy
Friday, 8 November, 11.30pm
I re-read The Greedy Piggy’s profile and texts to search for clues I might have missed about his intentions. I did some Googling, and it turns out:
Club sandwich = threesome sex, of any combination
Jazz trio = jazz is all about tension and release and is often compared to sex
P.S. Will I get targeted ads about club sandwiches?
Saturday, 9 November, 1.30pm
I told Leila about The Greedy Piggy wanting a threesome, and about my dream. Only I didn’t tell her it was a dream. Leila said, ‘I didn’t think you’d go for that kind of thing, honey,’ and she laughed and nodded knowingly when I confessed the truth.
Ace arrived and asked what we were laughing about but I didn’t want to tell him about The Greedy Piggy, so I just tapped my nose. I don’t want to talk about dating with him. It feels wrong somehow, and I can’t imagine him going for a threesome any more than I would. Then I had a hot flush imagining him and me in a threesome except the third person was invisible.
I plucked up the courage to ask Ace about Jacqueline.
‘So, is there something going on with you and Jacqueline? You looked quite cosy together the other night. Is the second basin for her?’
He shifted in his seat and took a long gulp of juice before replying. ‘No, it’s not for her. We’re just neighbours,’ he said, sounding on edge. Could it be he didn’t want me to think there was anything between them because he wants me instead? I didn’t dwell on that unlikely possibility for too long, though the thought of it gave me palpitations.
11.30pm
Thinking back to Ace’s party, I know I wasn’t nice to Jacqueline. Did I engineer spilling red wine on her by getting into a tug of war? I feel ashamed of how I behaved. That’s not the type of person I am or want to be. Is Leila right? Am I jealous? If I’m honest, I think I probably am. It’s the same feeling I had when Ace asked for the second basin. I don’t like the thought of her or anyone else using that basin. But do I want it to be my basin, now I know he’s not a cheater? I need to work it out. AND he needs to declare his real intentions for that basin.