Chapter 23
It’s Different for Girls
The trouble with threesomes is that everyone wants the same thing, so no one gets what they want: paradoxical, but true. Try this – picture a threesome. What do you see? (I’ll come back to you at the end of class.)
I’ve always found the idea of a threesome very exciting.
In fact, it’s a favourite fantasy of mine, and recently I found out that Mr Strange feels the same way.
So, happy days, right? We both want the same thing.
But what I see when I fantasise about a threesome is me and two members of the opposite sex, and I suspect it’s the same for most people. So, probably not happy days.
Still, when Mr Strange started making noises about a threesome, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and asked exactly how he saw that panning out – just in case he’d surprise me, just on the off-chance that he’d be the tenth dentist – the one who recommends the regular toothpaste.
Who would be the players in this three-way, I asked him.
Reader, I was not surprised. Sure enough – ‘The two of us and another woman, of course,’ he answered, quick as you like.
Almost as if he’d given this some consideration.
I got the feeling he thought I was worried that I wouldn’t be one of the number.
‘Of course you’d be there, babe,’ he told me reassuringly.
‘It wouldn’t be the same without you.’ Sweet.
I asked him to tell me about his fantasy threesome and he described it in detail – how I might be sucking his cock while this other girl sat on his face; how he would fuck me while she fingered his arse; how I and this player-to-be-named-later would team up to give him a blowjob, touching each other and putting on a show for him.
It was a very erotic fantasy, and he got hard talking about it.
He touched me as he spoke, and we both got very turned on.
It was such an exciting fantasy for him that I wanted him to have it. I told him I would do it – but only if he could reciprocate.
‘What do you mean, “reciprocate”?’ he asked. He already wanted to say yes to whatever I wanted, I could tell – he was so eager to make this happen. I wondered if he already had another girl picked out – if the player-to-be-named-later had in fact been named already.
So I told him I would do his fantasy threesome with him if he would do mine. I started describing it to him in detail, like he had – how he might hold me from behind, fondling my breasts while he watched the other guy go down on me—
I didn’t get any further. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘You think about having a threesome with two guys?’
‘Yeah – of course,’ I told him. ‘Same as you. I fantasise about being double-teamed by two members of the opposite sex.’
While his mouth was flapping open, I continued to tell him my fantasy – how he would whisper things in my ear as he held me, dirty things that would make me wet.
The guy with his mouth on me would tell Strange how turned on I was.
When my body started to thrash and convulse with orgasm, Strange would restrain me, pushing me back to the bed and holding me down, so I couldn’t escape the biting pleasure, and I would cry out at the intensity of it.
He would hush me, whispering soothing things in my ear while I came and came.
And then I would have their cocks in me – first one and then the other, in my cunt, in my mouth.
I told him the whole fantasy with many variations.
It made me very wet telling it, and I could tell he was excited too, by the thought of me with two guys – watching me get fucked, seeing me suck someone else off.
He kissed me and touched me as I spoke, and we ended up fucking for a very long time.
When I came and my body bowed off the bed, he pushed me back down and held me there, as if remembering something I had said.
‘That was very hot, listening to your fantasy,’ he said later.
‘So, do you still want to do a threesome?’ I asked.
‘Us and another woman? Hell, yeah.’
‘But not us and another man? You just said it was hot. It obviously turned you on.’
‘Yeah, listening to you talking about it. But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t be with a guy.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not gay!’ he finally shouted, as if it was obvious.
‘But neither am I, Strange.’
Neither am I.
He tried to tell me that it was different for girls. He said women’s bodies are softer, more beautiful, more desirable. They just are, according to him – it’s not subjective. He started talking about girls’ boarding schools, pillow fights…
‘That’s a male fantasy,’ I told him. ‘I’ve never been to boarding school.’
I tried to convince him that I didn’t want to be with a woman any more than he wanted to be with a man, but he didn’t get it.
I blame porn. I blame Madonna and Britney.
And Katie Perry. No wonder men think straight women should be up for a little girl-on-girl action.
All it takes is daring, or a bit of persuasion, and next thing you know, there you are, kissing a girl and liking it.
So I don’t think Strange and I will be having a threesome any time soon. Because we both want the same thing: to be double-teamed by two members of the opposite sex.
(So, what did you see? You and two members of the opposite sex, right? Well, a girl can dream.)
On Thursday evening, Bookends was packed for the launch of Rosy Sinnott’s debut novel. Tom and Claire were kept busy manning the till and bagging books, while Yvonne poured wine and sparkling water.
‘Have you read it?’ Tom asked Claire, nodding to the stacks of Rosy’s book that were piled up beside the till.
‘Yes – I thought it was brilliant. You?’
‘Same.’ Rosy’s novel was already being called the literary debut of the year, receiving rave reviews in the press.
‘Ooh, I need one of those,’ Rosy said, approaching the counter and pointing to the tray of drinks.
‘Help yourself,’ Yvonne said, and Rosy took a glass of white wine.
‘Well done, Rosy,’ Tom said to her. ‘You’ve got a great turnout. I loved the book.’
‘Oh, thank you, Tom. That means a lot.’
‘Congratulations,’ Claire said to her, as Tom turned away to serve a customer. ‘I hope it’s a great success.’
‘Thanks. This is so exciting,’ she said, looking around at the guests, the big displays of her book, and the posters of the cover. ‘Nerve-racking, but exciting.’
‘I’m really pleased for you, Rosy. The book is brilliant – you deserve it.’
‘I still can’t believe it! It’s just so amazing to see my name on a real book.’ She took a slug of her wine. ‘I really hope you’ll be next, Claire.’
‘Me too,’ Claire said, with a wistful smile. Rosy knew she was a writer. Their paths had crossed several times at writing and publishing events.
‘Excuse me.’ Rosy’s editor approached, touching Rosy’s elbow. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said to Claire, ‘but I think we should start the speeches now, okay?’
‘Sure,’ Rosy said, putting down her glass. ‘We’ll talk later,’ she said to Claire, as her editor led her to the lectern they had set up in a corner of the shop.
Claire had always felt a twinge of envy at events like this, and now, even though she had a publishing deal, she still felt a little jealous of Rosy as her editor made a glowing speech about the book.
She wondered if she would ever have a night like this, and imagined Mark making a speech about her, telling everyone what a wonderful writer she was, what a great book she had written.
As thrilled as she was that he was publishing the blog book, it would be amazing to have a book published that she could actually put her name to – one she could tell her family and friends about, something that would make her mother proud.
She needed to make more time to work on her novel.
She had been neglecting it lately, preoccupied with looking after her mother, seeing Luca and writing her blog.
But she wanted to get it into shape so she could let Mark read it.
It was another reason why it was the right time to wind up the blog – it would free her to work on her novel.
Because this was what she wanted, she thought, as Rosy was introduced and took the microphone.
She wanted to be standing where Rosy was some day, and she had to do everything in her power to make that happen.
On Saturday Claire got ready to go out for her third date with Mark.
He had flown into Dublin in the afternoon and she was meeting him for dinner at a restaurant close to the Merrion Hotel, where he was staying.
It was a pity that he didn’t have more time, but he had just managed to squeeze in a quick visit between a friend’s stag in London last night and travelling to Edinburgh tomorrow for a christening.
She was flattered that he had made such an effort just to spend a few hours with her.
‘You look lovely,’ her mother said, when she came downstairs.
‘Thanks.’ She had bought a new dress especially for the occasion. ‘I won’t be late,’ she said.
‘Be as late as you like,’ Espie said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be waiting up for you.’ She was sitting at the kitchen table, but Claire noticed that she sounded breathless, and there was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke.
‘Mum, are you okay?’ Claire asked, crossing to her and peering into her face.
‘I’m fine,’ Espie said, but there was a definite wheeze in her voice that struck fear into Claire’s heart.
‘You don’t sound too good.’ She sat at the table, putting a hand over her mother’s. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go out.’
‘Don’t be daft. I just overdid it a bit today.’ Nancy and Michael had taken her to the Japanese Gardens in Kildare. ‘It’s probably all the fresh air, making me tired. I’ll take it easy for the night and I’ll be fine.’
‘I can easily cancel. Mark won’t mind.’
‘After coming all the way over from London just to see you? You are not cancelling on him.’