3. Jax
Chapter 3
Jax
Helen showed me the spare room in her two bed terrace house that looked way nicer than my hotel, with sage walls, a cream queen-sized bed, and a blackout blind, so the sun wouldn’t wake me.
“If you want a shower, I think I’ve got some of the boys’ things in the dresser if you want to see if anything fits. The bathroom is just across the hall. Please, make yourself at home. Get some rest and I’m sure everything will feel different in the morning.”
She offered me a soft smile before she left me alone. I found some grey sweats and a white vest top. Carrying them to the bathroom, I stripped off, stepped into the shower, and let out a long groan as the hot water hit my exhausted body.
I walked downstairs to find Helen wiping the counters in the kitchen while humming out a tune like she didn’t have a care in the world. Dressed in a pair of purple oversized pyjamas covered in avocados, she’d tied her hair up into a ponytail that moved as she did. She looked much younger than the age she kept telling me was too old. I didn’t move, wanting to see more of this relaxed version of her, so I leaned against the doorframe, a smile pulling at my lips.
I wasn’t sure how long I watched before she turned towards me, her eyes landing on mine, widening as she noticed me there.
“Jacks—Jax. I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“The shower woke me up. I thought I’d see if you were still awake and if you wanted to finish the wine.”
She looked down at herself, tugging on the hem of her button up top. “I—”
“If you’re about to apologise for something ridiculous, please don’t.” I could see her thoughts reflected in her expression, the apology on the tip of her tongue. “Fine. Say it and then I can tell you it’s ridiculous.”
She looked relieved. “If I’d known you were staying up, I wouldn’t have put these on.” She pointed down at herself.
“Why?”
“I’m in my pyjamas.”
“Well, you’re relaxed at home… it’s late. Why wouldn’t you wear them?”
She stared at me, before puffing out her cheeks and releasing a long breath. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
I stepped closer. “I don’t. Do you overthink things this much normally?”
She shrugged, dropping the cloth she’d been holding and drying her hands on the towel hooked over the handle of the oven. “I think since my divorce, everything feels a bit… raw. I’m so unsure about who I am now…”
Deciding to do what she’d told me to do earlier, I made myself at home, uncorking the half-empty bottle of wine we’d been drinking and pouring us two large glasses. I handed her one and pointed to the sofa in the living area of her open-plan home.
Helen sat, curling her legs up as if she was trying to shrink herself.
“Who do you want to be?”
She looked confused and then must remember her last words to me. “I have no idea. I love my job, my friends, my boys, but beyond that… I don’t just want to be a mum or that reliable friend. There has to be more to me, right?”
“If you want there to be, then it’s there for the taking.”
There was silence for a while before Helen changed the subject and started to ask me questions about my life since moving from our little town. I answered as best I could, avoiding the elephant in any room when I talked about my past—why we moved.
The wine flowed, and at some point, we opened and finished another bottle. Helen’s cheeks flushed, and she giggled more, making me wonder if she'd had a glass or two before she’d found me on the bench by the beach. I couldn’t help testing how tipsy she might be, but as I talked, I realised I might be more drunk than I thought.
“So, dating, eh?”
“I tried. He stood me up and ghosted me, so I won’t be doing that again.”
“They won’t all be like that.”
She stared down at her now empty glass. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s for me.”
“Dating.”
She hiccupped. “Sex.” A blush flooded her cheeks.
“You didn’t have sex with Gary?” I asked, the pitch of my voice rising with each word.
“I have three kids with him.” She laughed before her face turned serious again. “We did, but not very often, and, well, my friends tell me I’ve been missing out on… things.”
I twisted to look at her. “Things.”
She shook her head. “What am I doing? I can’t have this conversation with you. Not unless I’m drunk.”
“You’re not drunk?” I snickered.
“Not drunk enough.”
“You have something we can put in shot glasses?”
She pointed to the kitchen. “There’s vodka in the freezer.”
I came back minutes later with the bottle and two tumblers, pouring a generous shot into each one. She took a sip.
“Down it.”
She leaned back against the sofa, resting the glass on her knee.
“Down it. I want you drunk enough that you can have this conversation.”
Helen licked her lips and downed the vodka. I poured her another before downing my own.
“So, what things have you been missing out on?” I asked as the vodka burned a path through my body.
Helen downed her drink again and this time I took the glass from her because I didn’t want her passing out on me.
“I got married at eighteen.”
“Right.”
“I got married because I got pregnant. It wasn’t planned.”
“Okay.”
She hiccupped again, letting out a soft laugh. “What else do you want to know?”
“The question you’re avoiding. What are you missing out on?”
“Orgasms.” She almost yelled it.
“You’ve never had one?” I was shocked by her admission.
“No, I mean, I’ve had them. Not very often and not for a few years.”
“Right.” I poured us both one more drink before I put the bottle out of reach.
“You won’t get it. I’m sure you’ve slept with lots of women… I mean, maybe men.” She looked up at me through her long, dark lashes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be so presumptuous.”
“I like women, Helen.”
She took a sip of her shot before pulling a funny face and putting her glass on the coffee table. “God, I’m so drunk. Oh, bugger it.” Helen pushed up from the sofa, wobbling slightly before walking to the other side of the room and picking up a cardboard box, handing it to me as she passed.
I looked at her, but she avoided my gaze so I flipped open the top, looking inside, before letting out a gasp. “Helen!”
“My friends sent them.” Her words slurred as she spoke and she sank into her seat.
I rummaged through. “Quite the selection.”
“I don’t even know what they do. I’ve never made myself come.”
I froze. “Never?”
“Nope.” She popped the P as she spoke.
“Do you want to make yourself come?” I would blame the alcohol for this conversation when I thought back on it later because I should not be talking like this with Jasper’s mum.
“I mean, I don’t know. I’ve gone without it this long. Is it that important?”
My mouth fell open. “Orgasms are important. But how can you expect someone to give you pleasure if you don’t know what you like?” My words felt harder to say as I spoke, the vodka making my tongue heavy in my mouth.
“You sound like my friends,” she mumbled. “But how am I supposed to know how to?”
“What? Make yourself come? I guess play with yourself, explore what makes you feel good. Do you like just your clit being touched, do you like being fingered? Do you like toys like these?”
Helen’s face fell to her hands. “I lied. I’m not drunk enough for this.”
I slipped from the chair onto the floor, pulling the box with me and tapping the space in front of me. “Come sit. Let me talk you through each of them and you can have a shot for each one you manage to get through.”
She peeked through her fingers. “You’re going to give me a sex toy lesson.”
“If you want one.” I shook the bottle of vodka as if that was enough to tempt her.
“I’m going to regret this in the morning, aren’t I?”
“Probably, but you’ll know a whole lot more.”
She moved to sit in front of me, crossing her legs and propping her elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hands. I couldn’t get over how different she looked with her hair cut and I couldn’t ignore how beautiful she was.
“This…” I held up a pink rose. “Sucks. See.” I tore it from the packet and turned it on. Reaching for her hand, I turned over her wrist and placed it on her pulse point. “Great for simulating someone going down on you.” Her eyes widened and she let out a soft groan as we both stared down at where our bodies connected.
“Okay.” She snapped her hand back, reaching for the vodka and downing a mouthful straight from the bottle.
I opened two more packets. “This one is a bullet. Great for your clit and this one…” I turned on the rabbit. “You put inside you, but you line the ears up against your clit.” She looked confused, so I moved her thumb and finger into a circle and pushed the vibrator through, pressing the ears to the soft flesh between them. Her blue eyes darkened and a visible shudder rippled through her body.
“You like that one, eh?”
When she didn’t reply, I turned it off, dropping it back into the box, before I pulled the last one out.
“Ah, this one doesn’t come with a demonstration.”
“What the hell…”
“Butt plug.”
She gasped. “Why would I put that in my arse?”
“It feels good, apparently.”
She scoffed. “Never in a million years.” Taking another mouthful of vodka, she ran her fingers over the tapered toy. “I would never.”
“Never say never, Helen.”
I held the black plug by its blue jewelled end between us, making us both giggle. The giggles soon turned into loud, drunken laughter that ended with us falling back onto the soft carpet, tears streaming down our cheeks.