Trouble Maker

Unsurprisingly on Friday morning I’m not functional. I’m tired and exhausted from my emotional outburst and my mood is at an all time low. It must be a miracle but I manage to drag myself out of the house and to school.

Home doesn’t feel safe right now and I don’t trust myself to be there. Besides, I don’t want Kate to be suspicious of me. I’ve already caused her enough grief – the thought of her finding out about Will and I gives me anxiety.

That’s another thing; Will and I.

I don’t know why I’m so worried about Kate knowing about Will and I, because actually there is no ‘Will and I’. Although I don’t know what you’d call what we did together is there’s no ‘us’. I guess it was just stress relief. But it didn’t feel like that when he kissed me. His hands were all over me, I suppose they could have gotten caught up in the moment.

But his kisses? His kisses were intentional, his mouth sought mine out as if he couldn’t live without me. I refuse to believe he would have kissed me like that if it weren’t something more than just sexual.

But I guess I don’t have too much experience when it comes to these things, so it’s hard to know. Actually, what I do have is a history of is reading too much in to others’ actions.

But I can’t forget it; any of it. The way he held me, the way we seemed to move together in a beautiful rhythm. The way he felt in my hands, they way his mouth caressed me. The urgency with which he seemed to need me, and the pleasure. Oh God, the pleasure was beautiful and thinking about it even now sends shivers up my body. It’s the first time a man has given me an orgasm and it was incredible.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Will regrets what we did, but there’s no space in my heart for regretting anything that involves him.

 

——–

 

“I was thinking of coming to after school prayer club,” I nod to sister Crick as we eat our lunches.

Usually we eat in silence unless Sister Crick is doing a particularly hard crossword. But today, after the last week and everything that’s happened with Will I figure I can use some Jesus in my life. I take a deep breath and I decide that now, more than ever, I need help.

“Is that what you’ve come to, now?” Sister Crick says, eyeing me with suspicion over her sandwich, “you’re so deprived of social contact you want to join prayer club?”

“Yeah,” I nod, taking a sip of my water, “I also figure I could use some religious guidance in my life. I keep making mistakes.”

“Religion can’t help you, kid.” I can quite believe that a teacher has said that to me, no less a nun.

It’s official, I’m so far gone that not even God can help me.

“Are you allowed to say things like that? Aren’t you supposed to be all holy and spiritual and guide poor lost souls like myself to the Good Lord?”

“I’m allowed to say whatever the fuck I want,” Sister Crick says, taking a big bite out of her sandwich, and then says, mouth full of bread and meat; “You want a spiritual guide, go talk to the Dalai Llama.”

“Agnes,” I’m using Sister Crick’s first name because I’m feeling ballsy, but there is a seventy percent chance that she will actually hit me and I’m a little terrified. I continue anyway because really at this point I’m living my life on the edge, “I’m allowed to go to any school activity I want. And I want to go to prayer club,” I finish rather forcefully.

Sister Crick looks like she wants to punch me, but obviously remembers that she’s not supposed to. It’s a relief because honestly she’d built like a linebacker and I have no doubt she’d be able to overpower me with her pinkie finger.

“Look, Portas,” Sister Crick replies, frustration filling her voice, “You don’t want to go to prayer club, no one goes to prayer club except for me and a few of the other nuns from the Abby. You really want to be a part of that? You want to spend an hour after school with a bunch of post-menopausal ladies saying prayers?”

“I want to do prayer club, I am committed to prayer club. I am coming to prayer club,” I say slowly.

Sister Crick starts shaking her head, “Prayer club isn’t for you, Portas,”

“I thought prayer club was for anyone. Didn’t Jesus-”

“You shut your smart-ass mouth,” Sister Crick glares, pointing her sandwich at me, “Bloody come to prayer club for all I care, but don’t you ever quote the Good Lord to me again.”

“Sweet,” I give sister Crick my most charming smile, which she responds to with a scowl, “So anything I need to do to prepare? Read up about any saints we might be praying to?”

“Yeah,” she says motioning for me to lean forward, “You can read about Saint Lucy, Patron saint of being a pain in my ass.”

“You’re such a dick,” It comes out from my mouth before I can think properly.

“What did you say to me, you feral ratbag?”

“I said,” I swallow, taking a calm breath, “You’re a dick.”

Sister Crick just nods, takes another big bit of her sandwich and surprisingly doesn’t lose her temper, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

 

——–

 

My first Prayer club feels awkward, and maybe it’s because I kind of just forced my way into it. When I step into the music room, I notice that there are four other nuns inside, three of them, including sister Crick are older – more what you think of when you think of a Nun – all wrinkles and black, frumpy clothing, big crosses around their necks. But then there’s also a younger looking nun, and unlike the others, she’s wearing colours and her hair is long.

“This is Lucy Portas,” Sister Crick nods to the other nuns, “she’s joining prayer club,”

They all glance at me, and weirdly there’s a level of anxiety filling the air. This is…this is strange. Did I make a mistake?

One of the older nuns gives Sister Crick a nervous look, “You sure, Agnes?”

There’s a pregnant pause, they all give each other looks and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake coming here. Maybe Sister Crick had been right when she said I shouldn’t come to Prayer club.

Sister Crick finally speaks, “No, but she’s a drop out and likely to get pregnant before she leaves school, so she’s come seeking God.”

I give Sister Crick a mean look and she just ignores me, grabbing a bunch of seats and dragging them into a circle.

“I don’t think this is the best place for that.” The younger one mutters, she gives me a nice smile, but her eyes are looking everywhere but me.

“It’s prayer club, it’s perfect for guidance. You know, closer connection to god and all that.” I give the women my best, most confidant and charming smile. I mean, if I can somehow get Will to touch me, then surely I can get these nuns to accept me into their prayer club.

The nuns are all giving each other awkward looks again and now I’m worried.

“I am redeemable aren’t I?” I ask to no one in particular. It’s more a…a prayer at this point.

“Sure,” One of the nuns says as Sister Crick says, “no”.

“It’s not that,” the older nun says, shooting a scathing look at Sister Crick, “Just that since no one comes, prayer club has sort of…changed.”

“It’s not really a prayer club anymore,” The younger nun smiles gently.

“What is it then? A Bible club? I have a Bible, I can bring that.” I say, almost desperately. Not even nuns want to be my friend, that’s exactly where my social stating is now.

“It’s not a Bible club,” Sister Crick corrects.

“We read books,” The younger nun suddenly blurts out. I look over to her and realise she might be one of those apprentice nuns, I realise, on account of the fact that she’s wearing some nail polish and her collar doesn’t go up to her neck.

“Oh, so it’s a book club,” relief washes over me, “Sister Crick, why didn’t you say anything? I love books, I’m happy to join. What are you reading?”

The nun’s all look back at sister Crick and she just gives a solemn nod which is really odd. But I guess it kind of matches this whole experience. I feel like I’m about to find out what Soylent Green is.

“She’s a little cunt, but she can be trusted. I think.” Sister Crick turns to me, “The thing about Prayer club is that there are rules.”

“Let me guess, ‘don’t talk about prayer club’?” I joke.

“Yes, and the like. This is a safe space.” Sister Crick says slowly, and the nuns nod in unison, all of them taking a seat.

“For reading books,” I say thoughtfully, taking the only remaining seat next to Sister Crick.

“Well, yes.” Sister Crick nods.

“Okay this is weird,” I can’t be bothered anymore, “let’s just read the book. I don’t have a copy but I can share with someone.”

“You can borrow my copy,” the young nun smiles at me, handing me the book, which I reach out to grab. As soon as I grab the book the whole room seems to become even more tense. I can’t place my finger on it, but I feel like the anxiety has just reached peak level. It’s a feeling in my gut.

“Thanks,” I smile back, remembering that this is an opportunity to get some positive social experiences.

I take a good look at it; the Cover is normal enough, just a picture of a Moon and a title; ‘Astrid in Love’. It looks like a cute romance novel and I wonder why the nuns are being so weird about it. Maybe because they’re not supposed to read about romance? I turn the book over to get a look at the blurb as the nuns stare at me in pregnant silence.

One evening Astrid is caught masturbating by her boss…It turns their relationship from hostile to hot…their affair is a passionate, erotic saga which promises to tantalise and excite its readers one sexy chapter at a time…

Oh my God. Oh. My. God.

Oh

My

Freaking

God

The nuns are reading erotic literature.

This isn’t a book club, this is a smut club.

I have joined a smut club. Run by nuns.

I look back up to confirm this with Sister Crick, and she looks slightly nervous as do the other nuns. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen sister Crick look so worried. Then it hits me. I’ve intruded on their private space. A space where they can read and talk about what they want without being judged. Actually, it’s exactly the kind of space I was looking for. Well, minus the smut. But hey, I’m not one to judge. Who doesn’t enjoy a good romp book?

This wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I’m willing to participate I realise in shock.

“This looks good,” I say after a pregnant pause, “I’m not usually into… supernatural books, but I’m keen to start reading it.”

The room seems to deflate instantly and the nuns begin to talk. The tension of the room dissipates and things seem a lot less weird now. Which is amazing, because…I’m in a sexy book club solely run by nuns.

“We’ve only just started reading so you’ve come at a good time. Chapter one and two is what we’re discussing today.” The oldest nun says, “What do we think so far?”

“Chapter one was slow, but chapter two was good,” The younger nun nods, a flush spreading across her face.

“Chapter two was very good. The bath scene was especially excellent.” A nun who I later learn is named Sister Therese adds.

“I’m not so convinced. I mean, masturbating in a bathtub is a good starter, I suppose, but I just want them to get it on already,” Sister Bernadette says, frowning and gripping the book angrily.

Masturbating in a bathtub? I quickly skim through the first two chapters and at chapter two I find what they’re referring to. True to word, chapter two features the first sexy scene of the book.

“They can’t get it on already, Margret. It’s only chapter two, the author needs to build tension.” Sister Crick says in exasperation.

“My main issue,” I butt in, “Is the fact that the main character masturbates in a bathtub and almost orgasms before she’s interrupted. I mean, really? That would just freaking hurt,” I say.

I resist the urge to swear, I am around nuns after all. And I notice, aside from Sister Crick none of them seem to curse.

“Really?” the young nun asks, eyes looking at me earnestly. I realise that she can’t be much older than me. What’s she doing joining a nunnery? I wonder if I can ask her that, but decide against it for the moment.

“Yeah, I mean she’s in water, it would wash away the natural lubricant and probably hurt a bit…” I trail off remembering that I’m talking about masturbating with nuns.

This Friday is fucking weird.

“It’s a fair point,” Says Sister Crick, surprising me by agreeing with me. A disturbing thought enters my head and I begin wondering about exactly where nuns stand on the masturbation thing. I decide now is not the time to find out.

“Maybe because she’s a witch, it’s different,” Sister Bernadette adds thoughtfully, “You know maybe being a supernatural creature it’s easier.”

“Maybe…” Sister Therese frowns thoughtfully, “How do we feel about the male lead? He’s a bit too macho…”

“Not bloody macho enough if you ask me,” Sister Crick mutters.

“I like him so far, but I don’t like how this wolf queen’s involved. I mean, consent it important – why should he have to be with this woman if he doesn’t want to?” the young nun says.

“Consent is important,” I say, nodding at the young nun, “Like, super important.”

“You two knob heads are missing the point,” Sister Bernadette sighs, “It’s to build the tension and give the romantic leads a conflict-slash-forbidden-romance element.”

“Conflict is important,” I smile at the young woman and she laughs.

“Conflict is important,” She says, nodding sagely, “Like, super important.” I can’t help but laugh at her imitating me.

I manage to get over the weird fact that I’m sitting with a bunch of nuns discussing smut. Actually, as we get into it’s kind of fun talking about literature…even erotic literature and I discover that aside from the fact these ladies are all brides of God or whatever, they’re actually pretty cool and easy to talk to.

I realise I like Prayer club a lot more than I thought I would. The hour goes by quickly and the club ends before I want it to. I hang around a bit afterwards, helping the nuns pack the chairs away and making conversation.

I turn to the younger woman and decide now is the time to make conversation.

“So are you a nun too?” I ask her, handing back the book.

“I’m a Novitiate, Kind of like a nun in training,” she says, throwing the paper cups in the bin, “I’m Rachel by the way,”

“Thanks for lending me your book, Rachel,”

She smiles again, pink tinging her cheeks, and says, “You can find a copy in the school library if you don’t want to buy it.”

“Good to know.” I nod, “Although I am surprised the library has copies of…such a supernatural book.”

“Yeah, you have Sister Crick to thank for that,”

Sister Therese interrupts us, “So ladies, next week Prayer club won’t be on. They’re repainting the music room and we don’t have anywhere else to run it.

Is she serious? Just when I’m starting to make a friend this happens? It’s out of me before I can stop and think about it.

“Why don’t we just do it at my place?” I offer.

The nuns turn to me, slightly curious. The Novitiate turns to me, I can see a look of excitement on her face and I realise she probably hasn’t been out of the abby much since beginning her nun training or whatever it’s called.

“My place is pretty close to the school and there’s usually either my sister or babysitter there and they’ll leave us alone.” I add, giving the ladies my most pleasant smile.

Sister Crick’s about to open her mouth the argue, but Sister Therese speaks first.

“That sounds lovely. Thank you, Lucy.”

And that’s how a bunch of nuns end up coming to my home to read Erotic Literature.

 

——–

 

The next Friday afternoon I walk home. Except instead of walking home by myself, today I’m escorted by a group of surprisingly excitable Sisters. Kate was surprisingly happy with me having Sister Crick and the other’s over for prayer club…but probably because she doesn’t know what it actually is. I haven’t told her about what Prayer club actually is, but I figure that it’s okay, on account of the fact that they’re all religious and good influences or whatever. As soon as I get home, I seat the nuns in our lounge room and I go and make some tea.

As the water kettle boils I hear the front door open and close.

It must be Will, I realise. I didn’t know he was going to be over so early this afternoon, but I guess work must have finished on time for once. I wonder briefly if he’s going to notice anything, or say anything. I mean, if bringing home a bunch of nuns won’t get him to talk to me, then I think I can safely say I’ve lost his interest.

I hear footsteps, and I continue fussing around, looking for extra tea cups and a tray to serve them on.

“Lucrezia.” I know it’s Will, he’s the only one with that voice, unless one of the nuns has suddenly turned into a growly, deep voiced, sexy man. Which…which is a thought I don’t want to really give much time to.

I keep searching, finally locating the tray and begin pulling it out of its precarious position in the cupboard.

“Hey Will, How was your day?” I ask because I have a feeling that the only reason Will is in here talking to me right now is because there are a bunch of old ladies in our living room.

There’s a pause, “It was fine.” Then another pause, “How was yours?”

“Yeah, great,” I manage to get the tray out and whoop in victory, “Submitted some assignments, stayed out of trouble. The usual.”

I come to stand up, tray in hand, facing Will finally. Seeing him steals a breath of air from my lungs and I realise that Will ignoring me since ‘the touching’ (Sequel to ‘the kiss’) has done nothing to calm my desire for him. Today he’s wearing his cop uniform and I want to press my body against his and peel his shirt off him. A man in uniform, indeed. Woof.

“Lucrezia,” Will asks, his face is pulled into a tight frown. I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t.

“Will,” I say, raising an eyebrow mockingly. I try to remember to be an adult. If he sees me as an adult maybe he’ll kiss me again.

I can see Will visibly take a deep breath, closing his eyes and then opening them to really look at me. As if he’s seeing me for the first time.

“Lucrezia, did you invite a bunch of nuns over?”

“Yeah,” I say, “It’s for prayer club.”

“Prayer club?” Will says the words carefully in his mouth, like he’s worried I’m going insane, “You’re a part of prayer club now?”

“Didn’t Kate tell you?”

“She neglected to share that information,” He bites out, and I wonder why he’s so peeved at me.

“Well, if you’d bothered to talk to me in the last week you’d know I am a keen member.” I say it rather childishly, slamming the tray on the bench a little too hard. I start stacking tea cups and the tea pot on it.

“You’re a keen member are you?” He leans on the bench next to me, taking a good look at my face like he’s trying to understand me. His body is so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him and I wonder if he knows how he effects me. I look at him, silent for a moment and I realise he probably realises I’m checking him out.

“Some of us look to self improvement, some of us don’t want to be assholes for the rest of our lives.” I manage to reply with some semblance of dignity.

“Lucrezia,” He says my name like a warning, and it sends a powerful jolt between my thighs. He’s leaning even closer now, his body trapping me between himself and the bench. I know I’m about to be in trouble, but I don’t care as long it’s followed by his lips on mine.

My brain is officially mush, because the next thing I say is, “I mean, you finger a girl and then you don’t talk to her afterwards. We both know that I don’t have especially high standards when it comes to the way guys treat me. But even I’d say that’s asshole behaviour.”

“You want to say that louder with all the nuns around?” He looks one part embarrassed and two parts dangerous. It sets my heart fluttering, my skin tingling and another distinct flush of arousal straight between my legs. My nipples are hard, pressing against my bra, as if they remember the way he touched them not so long ago.

“Prayer club mostly involves reading smut. I think they know what fingering is and I don’t think they’ll be particularly scandalised by our conversation.”

“Sorry, reading smut?” Will looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, he brings his hands to rub his face, taking a step away from me, “You’re reading smut with a bunch of nuns? Nuns who are your friends?”

“Yeah,” I try to be nonchalant, although when he says it like that I guess it kind of sounds silly. “we’re currently reading this,” I gesture to the book in my hands.

Will surprises me by grabbing it from my hands and taking a good look at it. I watch his brows knit together, the lines on his forehead deepening in concentration.

“Astrid in Love,” He reads aloud, and then turns the cover, “One evening Astrid is caught masturbating by her boss…” He trails off and then hands it back to me, “Jesus, Lucrezia. I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s a sexy supernatural romance between a werewolf and witch; very erotic. You can join us if you want. The girls will be excited to have a male member.” I don’t know if that’s strictly true, but I’m enjoying the flustered look on Will’s usually stoic face.

“No, I think I’ll give it a miss,” Will says, a vein in his neck twitching.

“You ok? You’ve gone all twitchy,” I add because I’m feeling unkind today.

“You are…you are too much sometimes, Lucrezia,” I know he means it as an insult, but I don’t take it that way.

“That’s a shame,” I shrug apologetically, taking a step away from Will and closer to the doorway.

“A shame?” he looks confused, repeating the words like he is, in fact, having a stroke.

“Yeah, I need a man who can keep up with me.” And with that I take my leave, making extra effort to strut out of there like I’m Naomi Campbell on the runway, all ass, hips and attitude. It’s a real feat, let me tell you, because I’m also precariously holding a tray full of china.

I don’t even bother to look at him, but I imagine his mouth is wide open and gaping like a fish. I mean, in all likelihood he looks stoic and slightly pissed, but I’m going to pretend I’ve unhinged him.

Until Will’s ready to talk properly about the other night, I might as well try and take some form of control here. I think this might be the most satisfying moment of my life. I take a deep breath and continue to carry the tray out to the club.

“Alright ladies, who wants some tea and biscuits,”

There’s a fuss and excitement. These ladies are not hard to please, I realise as I dish out teacups and store bought biscuits. I settle down in a seat, with my own tea and biscuit in hand and join in on the conversation.

“Did you guys read chapter three?” Sister Therese begins.

“Boy, did I.” Sister Bernadette replied, pushing silver hair out of her eyes as she sips the tea, “I read it twice.”

“Could cut the tension with a knife…”

The conversation continues on and I find myself smiling and laughing along. It’s enough to distract me and make me feel…happy. It’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while, that feels freeing and lovely.

Again the hour goes by quickly and before long, the club has ended and I’m cleaning up the teacups as Rachel helps me.

“There’s a film night at the Golden Age Cinema Saturday night,” Rachel says, bringing the tray in with me to the kitchen, “Showing old school vampire films. I think the one next weekend is ‘interview with the vampire’. I thought you might be interested in coming with me?”

“The Brad Pitt movie? The one with sexy vampires that’s vaguely homoerotic?”

“I mean more than vaguely. But yes,” Rachel nods, “You said you like supernatural things, so I figured you’d be interested.”

“Yeah.” I nod, “That’d be great. I need to check with my sister first, but I’m sure she’ll be cool with it.”

“Sweet!” Rachel laughs, “I’ll text you the to confirm later next week.”

“Do you need my number?” I frown, remembering that i’ve not given her my phone number before.

“I have it. Sister Crick gave it to me, I hope you don’t mind. It’s just I don’t really know many girls my age. What with living in the abby and all, so I asked her for it.”

“How does Sister Crick have my phone number?” I wonder aloud, as I stack teacups in the dishwasher.

“Oh, I think you know the answer to that question,” Rachel snorts, nudging me and we both look out the kitchen door, watching Sister Crick talking loudly to Will, I watch her slap him hard on the back and I swear he flinches.

“She knows everything.” I say, wondering what Will and her are talking about. Even talking to Rachel, all I can do is focus on how broad Will’s shoulders are, and how cute his ass is.

“And she’s terrifying,” Rachel adds, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Fuck, she’s terrifying,” I repeat, looking at Rachel in camaraderie “Sorry for swearing.” I add.

“It’s okay. When it comes to describing Agnes,” Rachel nods, “Swearing is appropriate”.

We laugh together as we watch Sister Crick slap Will on the back again. Except this time he moves and she accidentally hits herself. Rachel laughs so much she starts to hiccup and snort. I can’t remember the last time I smiled so much that it hurt.

That night when the ladies have long gone and I’m tucked safely in bed, I realise with amazement, that tonight was the first time I’ve felt like I belonged for a long while.

 

——–

 

With more excitement than I’ve ever felt in my life, I get ready to out with Rachel to the Golden Age Cinema. I decide on a short black skirt and a white shirt. It’s cute but also quite stylish (I’d like to think, anyway).

I make my way down stairs, grabbing a pair of heels. Looking up the Cinema online it’s kind of got a retro-bar vibe and I probably shouldn’t wear sneakers. I pass Will and Kate in the kitchen looking at some files together. They’ve been working on some case for the better half of the day and now evening because it’s super stressful or something.

“How’s it going in here?” I ask, smiling my most angelic smile. It says ‘I am a good child, I should be allowed out of the house, I will never misbehave again. Trust me. Please’. Well, I’m not sure if my smile quite conveys all of that, but it’s the message I’m going for.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Will frowns.

The depth of his growl startles both me and Kate. I see her head snap up at him and then she looks at me and blinks. It’s almost like she was about to fall asleep…hm…

“Out with a friend.” I say, and I look at Kate, who is still blinking at me like she’s just woken up, “With Rachel. You said it was okay. It is, isn’t it?”

My head whips from Kate and Will. This is my first night of freedom for what seems like a lifetime. I need this. Surely they can’t deny me this?

“Yeah, of course.” Kate smiles, and I feel myself visibly deflate, “Relax Decker, I gave her the night off. Besides I don’t think she’s going to get into much trouble with Rachel.” Kate giggles to herself.

“Oh right; the nun in training,” Will grins at Kate and they exchange a look of amusement. Just how long, I wonder, have they been laughing at me behind my back.

“You guys are such assholes,” I grind out, I turn to apply lipstick, looking at my reflection in the glass cabinet. I, like many woman, possess the ability to use almost anything with a slightly reflective surface as a mirror. It’s a skill I’m proud of, and – I realise with horror – possibly my only skill.

Good God, Portas. What is going on in your life?

“Where are you guys going? Not to a club, right?” Kate looks alarmed for a moment, eyeing the skirt and heels. I wonder for a moment if I’m a tad overdressed. But I don’t care. I need to feel good, I need to feel nice.

“No. She’s not allowed to go to clubs. It’s the Golden Age Cinema, kind of like a cinema and bar.” I reply, putting the lipstick back into my bag.

I look up to watch Kate and Will again, I can’t help but wringing my hands together nervously as they exchange glances. I feel a surge of embarrassment and jealousy – how could I ever compete the the apparent maturity of their relationship? I look down nervously, adjusting my skirt. I don’t want to watch them together, I realise. It’s painful.

“She’s allowed to go to a bar, but not a club,” Will muses aloud. My eyes snap back up to Will and I know he’s just teasing, but I feel so silly.

“Well…we kind of got around it by emphasising the cinema aspect of the place…” I trail off and shrug.

“You guys gonna go on the prowl? Pull some guys?” Kate cackles and I just glare. She thinks she is so funny. I’m too scared to look at Will’s expression. I can imagine it’s one of laughter – probably congratulating himself on getting away from me as quickly as he did.

“Maybe. She’s not a nun yet.” I turn my head to the side, “Anyway, even if she’s not on the market, I am.”

Kate grins at me and waggles her eyebrows, “Gonna go flirt with some guys then, are we? Use the old Lucy Charm – that’ll be great.”

“Katherine Portas,” I say, hands on hips, “I’ll have you know that I have a reputation for being charming and alluring to the opposite sex.”

Well. To one guy; Micah Lorne, sex pest, my one-time, sort-of-boyfriend, and full-time asshole. In retrospect it wasn’t so much my charm that he was after…but that isn’t important now.

“Yeah, if you can keep your mouth shut for long enough,” Kate is now laughing so hard she’s red.

She’s slamming her hand on the table, like she’s struggling to breath. This might be the most I’ve seen her laugh since before our Dad died. I’m kind of happy to see her so happy, but not really thrilled it’s at my expense.

Kate looks thoughtful, one finger on her chin, “Oh, I wonder who you two are gonna pick up at an old-ass cinema…I can just see it now…maybe some forty-year-old, seedy guy with side-burns who owns a record shop in the Cross.”

“Hey, that sounds good to me,” I throw back churlishly, “He’ll have a goatee and live in his mum’s basement.”

Kate is holding her chest, taking deep, gulping breaths, “Stop,” she gasps, “Stop.”

“Do you you really think she should be going out?” Will asks, voice all deep and growly it makes my body shiver and my pussy tighten, “Or maybe we should go with them.” He turns to look at me, and his eyes tell me they’ve assessed me and found me wanting. How does that make me even more turned on?

Kate looks excited by the prospect, but I so don’t want to be on a double date with my sister and the guy I have a crush on. If I have to watch them banter and flirt with each other I’ll throw myself in front of a car.

I just frown, “No way in hell am I being chaperoned to the movies with my friend by my old sister and her weird-ass colleague.” Both of them look affronted and slightly offended, so I take this as my cue to leave, “Look I’m just going out to see a sexy, homo-erotic vampire movie with my friend who happens to be a nun. I may have a glass of wine. Then I’ll come home. There is no plan for anything else.”

Kate has finally returned to her normal tan complexion and she just gives me a look that says I’m a pain in her ass.

“Fine,” But then Kate points a finger at me and says, “Don’t fuck anyone in the back of a car again, please.”

I don’t know what to say that. So I just glare down both Will and Kate, which is a real feat, let me tell you, and means that I’m kind of stuck for a few minutes turning my head between the two of them making eye contact and squinting my eyes.

Sufficiently satisfied that they both know I hate them, I turn and leave, hoping that Rachel’s arrived to pick me up. Because yes, Rachel has a car, but I don’t. Which is damned outrageous.

 

——–

 

My night out with Rachel is fun, although I can’t fully focus on the film we’re watching because the entire time I’m thinking about Kate and Will at home, working on some case, getting all close and snuggly.

I am distracted by all manner of questions which bombard into my brain like Aunt Jane raiding the pantry for Tim Tams. I wonder about how close they are, if they’ve kissed, if they’ve done more than that. I think about when he touched me that night in my bedroom and I wonder if they’ve done the same things. It breaks my heart, and I find myself anxious to get home, to catch them doing something, so that I can know definitively what the hell is going on.

When I get home, the lights are mostly off, except for a light coming from upstairs and the kitchen. My heart slams into my chest and for a moment I panic. Are they in her bedroom?

“How was your night out?” Will’s voice calls from the kitchen, his deep voice cutting through the night air surprising me. The relief washes over me – I know why, my brain is wondering if this means they haven’t been spending the night making out. But then, Will in the kitchen at precisely this moment doesn’t mean anything. My brain is going at a million miles a minute and I’m so exhausted of feeling this way.

I walk into the kitchen, tentatively, listening to my heels clicking on the tile. Tonight coming into the house I’m filled with trepidation, I realise. How much more can my heart take of these palpitations before it just explodes in my chest?

“It was fun,” I fiddle with my necklace, watching the back of Will’s head as he fusses around the kitchen.

His broad shoulders make me ache. I want to touch him, I burn to bury my head in his chest, I need to have his arms around me. I find myself fidgeting, smoothing the little black skirt down nervously.

“Do you want some dinner?” Will asks stacking a pot onto the sink, back still turned to me.

“No, we ate plenty. Too much actually. We went to this Korean restaurant after the movie and it was great.” I feel like I’m starting to ramble. I don’t know why, but something about Will tonight is setting me on edge. Something feels weird in the air.

Will finally turns and I stop breathing. His gaze moves over me and I wonder what he’s thinking in that head of his. As per usual his face gives away nothing – how many hours have I spent trying to discern and translate his facial expressions? He calmly walks over to me, and now he’s standing right in front of me. This is what I’ve wanted for two weeks straight – Will’s undivided attention given to me willingly.

And now? Now I’m just filled with anxiety.

“You sure?” Will asks, voice soft, he wipes his wet hands on the towel in his hands and I just about want to beg him to touch me with them. He has great hands, I marvel like a dolt.

“D-definitely,” I stutter, I can’t even pretend to be unaffected by him, “Like I said, I ate too much. Where’s Kate?”

I turn to look around the kitchen, to see any evidence around the kitchen that they’ve been up to something.

“She had to go out on call,” Will then asks, “Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah. of course.” I smile nervously, “Heaps of fun. The movie was terrible, I think we both laughed through it the entire time. But I had a good night out.”

I’m not about to tell him that, actually, I spent the entire night wondering if he was hooking up with my sister.

“Yeah?” He leans forward, and for a moment I think he’s about to do something. Except all he does is place the towel next to me on the bench. He leans back like a normal person would and continues talking. I can smell him when he’s this close and it wraps around my nostrils so pleasantly I sigh. Will continues talking, “Meet anyone?”

I shake my head, I feel shy and embarrassed – wondering if he noticed my reaction to what I thought he was about to do.

“You look nice.” Will says.

The compliment catches me off guard and I stare at him for a moment and blink. Well actually, I don’t quite stare at him, I stare at his neck, because I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“It’s just the skirt.” I finally say. He’s probably so used to seeing me in daggy loose clothing with zero makeup and crazy hair, that he thinks he’s seeing a different person.

“It’s not the skirt. You’re beautiful in sweatpants and an old shirt.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I look up at him, and my heart startles – his expression is intense. He looks so handsome and my heart hammers against my chest. I hate this, I hate how he makes me feel. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a slut, or desperate, or silly. I need to touch him. I need to.

The good thing, I realise, about heels is that they make it easier to reach Will. He’s still a whole head taller than me with them on, but it gives me way more advantage than normal. I step forward, bring my hands up to tilt his head toward mine and I lean up and press my lips against Will’s. It’s like oxygen to me. The moment our lips connect, I sigh.

Will is rigid against me and I realise he isn’t reacting. Disgust burns through me; what am I doing? He’s said before he doesn’t want this.

I pull away, I feel so embarrassed I can’t even look at him. I don’t want to see the look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I mumble, “I had too much wine. Better go to bed. Bye.” I quickly haul my ass out of there.

I should have left it alone. God damn it, Portas, you stupid whore!

I run upstairs which is a feat in feels and launch myself into my room, quickly shutting the door behind me. I bring my hands to my chest and feel my heart rate pound. I shove off the heels and outfit, crawling into the shower. It’s an attempt to wash away my idiocy and the awkwardness I just brought upon myself.

When I’m done, I step out of the shower and dry myself off, shove some pyjamas on and lay on my bed. Here I am, almost the end of the term. Grades, slightly higher, self-worth possibly lower.

Somehow, I manage to drift off to sleep.

 

——–

 

It’s a road…THE road…

I never saw it…the road where he died. But I know where I am. The road it wet, and it’s dark, the air feels cold. Was it cold when he died? Was he scared when the truck…Did he feel it…?

I walk down the bitumen, slick with water, maybe oil. Oil from a turned over truck… My footsteps echoes along the ground. The surroundings blend and buckle, I feel a chill. A whisper of wind, gooseflesh up my spine.

Suddenly…suddenly heaviness on my heart, on my lungs. I’m in the middle of the road…I can’t move anymore, I can’t walk. My feet are planted to the ground and no matter what, I cannot move a muscle.

Down the road…like a mirage…it appears…

A man…I know who he is…he’s screaming…the mirage, I realise is a hunking, twisted chunk of metal…There’s a convoluted mass of flesh, contorted amongst the wreck. He’s screaming…but there’s no head…no head just a bloody neck, chunks of flesh… it’s…

It moves…he wriggles, like a slug…the landscape blurs and hisses, I still can’t move my own feet.

Now I’m in the kitchen and the chill races up my back. Something bad…something bad… is going to happen. My throat closes…

Something…something in the corner of the kitchen…a blackness, bleeding into the walls of the room, and out comes the slug man…I know who he is…the headless slug man wriggles up, towards me, undulating grotesquely over the counter top…I can’t move, I can’t move.

Panic, dread…

I try to scream, ‘help!’, it comes out barely as a whisper…why am I so powerless?

It wraps around my body like it’s a Boa constrictor. It squeezes and squeezes….

 

——–

 

I wake up with a start and realise that I’m on a floor. On a tile floor to be specific. It’s dark and I take a moment to orient myself. My heart races, it’s practically in my throat, my head is woozy and I feel sick.

I try to sit up but I’m still shaky and weak. My eyes adjust to the dark and I realise that I’m in the kitchen. What the hell? This is an absolute first. Did I sleepwalk down here?

“Luce,” I jump at the sound of my name. The light turns on and my eyes rapidly blink as my eyes adjust to the brightness.

Will’s face pops over mine and it takes me a moment to realise he’s standing over me, leaning over me with a look of concern on his face. I hate this.

“What time is it?” I ask, my voice sounds strained and raspy.

“One-thirty,” he says, “I didn’t realise you sleep-walked.”

“Neither did I,” I say, staring at him blankly, and then turning my head to look around. Yep, definitely in the kitchen and not my bed. Weird.

“Do you…” He trails off, “Need me to help you up?”

I shake my head, “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?” he raises an eyebrow at me like he can see the lie come out of my mouth. I could tell him the truth, but the thing is I’m tired of Will’s pity. I’m tired of him finding me in these terrible positions.

“Yeah,” I swallow, “I’m fine here. This is good.” it then dawns on me that it is early in the morning and Will is still here, “Is Kate out still?”

“No, she’s home,” Will says, one eye-brow raised as if to mock me.

He’s still here, she’s here. What..what…? Does this mean he’s staying over with her?

“Okay,” It’s more of a sigh than a word. It’s a miracle anything comes out. How much more of this am I supposed to be able to deal with? I wasn’t built for this kind of heartache.

“She got in ten minutes ago, went straight upstairs,” Will adds, “I was just about to leave and I saw you run down the stairs like a maniac and into the kitchen. I thought you must’ve been awake. But then you went in without the light on and stayed in there for some time…” he trails off.

“Are you and Kate dating?” It’s the only question I can think of. I need to know.

He frowns, clearly not in tune with my line of thinking. “Did you hit your head on the way down there?”

“Probably.” I say.

I think about it for a moment. It’s possible. I’m impressed that I ran down the stairs sleep-walking and didn’t trip over. I try to think about my body for a bit, and realise that nothing hurts. Amazingly I did not hurt myself sleep walking down here. Embarrassment aside, I’m impressed with myself and my ability to sleep walk without hurting myself. This could be a life-direction for me. Maybe there’s a career out there which requires this skill?

Evidently I’ve been staring up at Will silently for too long, because then he’s speaking again.

“Okay, I’m getting your sister. Maybe we should take you to the hospital for a head scan,” Will mutters,

I don’t need to stress Kate out! I already did this shit to her too much at the beginning of the year.

“No, no.” I manage to get up, I scramble up the cabinets and stand up, “I’m fine, my head is fine. Time to go home, Decker. This was nice, let’s do this again sometime.” I add a laugh and a head toss like I’m Julia Roberts in Notting Hill.

I am a sophisticated woman with amazing teeth and hair. I am not having a mental breakdown in front of the man I have an obsessive crush on.

“Luce,” his large hand circles around my own, and I stare down at it, “Sweetheart, don’t do this to yourself.” Momentarily stunned by his genuine care I stop with my Julia Roberts act and stare at Will silently as he continues talking, “I know what trauma looks like. You need to get this sorted.”

Trauma? He thinks I have trauma? Can that be right? That doesn’t sound right. Trauma is for people who’ve been to war, isn’t it? My dad died. It’s hardly the worst thing that can happen to a person.

“I did,” I feel panicky now, he thinks something’s wrong with me.

“When?” his hand grips mine and I realise he’s leading us to the kitchen table. He takes a seat on the chair and surprises me, pulling me into his lap. It’s automatic, I curl into his chest, tuck my head into his neck and breath deeply. His strong arms hold me tightly and finally…finally I feel safe tonight. I feel my body sink into his as if it was waiting for this moment.

“When did you go see someone for help, sweetheart?” He asks again.

“Few weeks after his funeral.” I whisper into Will’s neck, focusing on the way his throat moves as he talks.

“That sounds like it was too soon,” He strokes my hair gently, it sends tingles down my spine, “You barely had time to process. You need to go back.”

“I’m not crazy.” I can’t help the defensiveness. I feel like he’s judging me.

“I’m not saying you’re crazy.” his voice is a gentle growl, “I’m saying that what you’re experiencing isn’t the usual grief.”

“It hurts when you treat me like this.” I say blankly. It’s true – it hurts when he’s so kind to me, when he treats me like I’m special, like I’m worth something. It’s painful to me when he makes me feel, even for a moment that I mean something to him, that he worries about me.

“Like what?” Will asks, not even slightly perturbed by my sudden change in direction.

“When you’re so kind and caring.” I clarify, “You go between ignoring me and this. I can’t keep up with whether you like me or not.”

“I care about you, Luce. Is that what you want to hear?” His hand tilts my head up, our eyes connect, his gaze is lazy, half-lidded.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, surprised by his easy admission.

“What else do you want? Do you want this?” He leans forward and presses he lips against my mouth, “Is this what you want?”

Is this what I want? Is he kidding?

“Yes,” The word leaves my mouth in a dazed whisper, “But also no, the last time we did something together because you felt sorry for me, it utterly wrecked me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me, I thought you wanted a man who could handle you.” his words a familiar reference to what I’d said to him the other day before prayer club.

“You know what that was,” I shake my head, “You know that was a defensive response. You don’t want me. Don’t tease me when you don’t want me. I know I don’t have a chance with you.”

“You’re a silly woman. Lovely, but silly,” Will presses his mouth against mine again, it’s slow and lingering, his tongue dipping into my mouth like he’s tasting me, “I need you, Sweetheart. That was the problem when I left after I, as you referred to it, ‘fingered you’. I still needed you, it wasn’t enough. I can’t need you.” His eyes burn with an intense heat and I bite my lip trying to shove down the arousal spreading through my body like liquid want.

This is…this is no good. Surely.

“Don’t do this to me, Will,” I’m already unbuttoning his shirt, leaning forward to meet his gorgeous kisses, spreading my hands across his bare chest; touching hot, naked flesh.

“You don’t need to go out looking for this with strangers.” He whispers against my lips, hands sliding underneath my own shirt, gliding up sensitive skin to caress my breasts. His gentle touch send a delicious tremor through my body, “I’ll give this to you, anything you want. Just don’t go looking elsewhere.”

Surely this can’t be real, surely he’s just caught up in the moment. I know in my soul as soon as we’re done he’s going to close off. I just know it, but it doesn’t stop me.

I’m weak, so weak I just tilt my head and let him trail his lips down my neck. His hands are kneading my breasts, rolling nipples between his fingers and I sigh, head lulling back in wanton abandon. He pulls me against him, arching my chest towards him, his mouth closing over my breast, sucking the globe of flesh through my top. I gasp at the feeling, my hands weaving into his thick hair as his tongue laves over my nipple.

I marvel, watching as Will’s mouth moves to caress my other breast with his tongue, moistening the fabric. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, sucking the little nub, releasing it with a little pop of his mouth. I feel arousal seeping from me, all I can do is claw at his shoulders, gripping onto them like they’re my lifeline.

“You’re supposed to be a good girl,” Will grunts in my ear, “You’re not supposed to tempt me so much,” His large hands gripping my ass, bringing me to sit on the table.

His hands are quick and demanding, pulling my legs up so that my back is laying against the cold surface of the kitchen table, my legs in the air. His pushes my shorts and underwear up to my knees, and pushes my legs back towards my face. the movements are so quick, I barely have time to catch my breath. His mouth lowers towards my exposed sex and I realise in shock that I am about to experience something I’ve never had done to me before.

His tongue licks the slit between my thighs and I gasp. It’s the first of many licks, kisses and caresses. His mouth is urgent, feeding my pussy; lips and tongue making love to my aching, sensitive nub; slurping my arousal like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten in his life. That can’t be true though – I know Micah always said that guys shouldn’t have to do this sort of thing, and that it’s gross for them. But Will’s mouth is moving against me desperately, without holding back, like he can’t get enough. It gives me a heady feeling of pleasure and embarrassment.

I cannot think, I can only concentrate on the experience and my breathing. My nails are digging into my thighs as I hold them up. His hands are on my ass, squeezing the flesh as his mouth makes love to me.

His tongue swirls and dips into my clenching hole and I buck against him, riding against him as best as I can. His mouth alternates between gentle and merciless, swirling and sucking my clitoris into his mouth until I want to scream. I don’t though. The last thing I want to do is have Kate come in here and interrupt. I don’t want to have to deal with the carnage of that.

This is the first time a man has ever put his mouth on me and it’s one part embarrassing and three parts incredible. I can hear him sucking away; slurping, wet noises as his mouth and tongue work me over. His tongue thrusts against the little nub and it pushes me into a long stretch of delicious release.

“Will,” I whisper his name, squirming against the pleasure at it wracks through my body. The orgasm spreads through me, my body trembling as it takes over.

Will surprises me, pulling my legs down and holding me closely as the waves of release pulse through me. His breathing is heavy and I can hear his heart racing, his erection pressing against my thigh. He places a kiss on my lips and the tangy taste of arousal hits my mouth.

It’s weird, but I don’t care. I just want him to keep kissing me. I lean into him, my hands clasped around his neck as I continue to taste myself on his lips and tongue.

He pulls back, “Sorry, I really shouldn’t have. But you’re just too much to resist.”

I ignore his apology. I can’t be bothered to deal with his resentment after what he just did to me. It’s the same story every time and I just don’t want to acknowledge it anymore.

“Do you want me to…” I nod towards the bulge in his pants.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. But we’re not going to.” Will replies, gently leaning forward to kiss me on my head.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated. I can just touch you, no expectations afterwards, no commitment. It can be something we just do.” I should be humiliated at my constant begging, but I’ve already come this far and figure that I’ve already embarrassed myself so much in front of him, what’s a little more?

“Luce, you deserve so much more than what I can offer.” he then begins pulling up my shorts and underwear, “Now come on, fix yourself up before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“What do you want to do that you’ll regret?” I ask, “Because there is nothing you could do to me that I wouldn’t want.”

Clearly I’m a whore, but I don’t give a shit anymore. I’ll say it every day if I have to, and I don’t think it’s come to a surprise to anyone, but: I will do literally anything to get Will Decker to fuck me. I don’t know if there’s a thing I wouldn’t do, except maybe eat shit or something. I wouldn’t do that. Probably.

“Stop playing with fire,” Will frowns, pushing away from me, and fixing his attention to the buttons of his shirt and begins doing them back up.

“You said you’d give me whatever I want,” I say before I pull my shirt off. I am now sitting before him on my kitchen table naked, well except for the shorts and underwear pooled around my knees. I kick those off, and lean back with a lot more confidence than I actually have. This is me, this is where I’m at now. Sitting on my kitchen table, totally starkers begging a man twice my age for sex.

Hi, if you’re new here and wondering what the hell is going on, allow me to explain: My name is Lucrezia, and I am an insane slut. Okay? Okay. We can continue on now that we have that cleared up.

I watch in satisfaction as Will stops, his eyes glaze and he stares.

“Babe,” It’s like a sigh and a grunt. Like he’s both exhausted and annoyed. I enjoy watching him like this, frustrated, tense. I can’t help but focus on the bulging front of his pants. He wants me, I know that. Maybe he doesn’t like me the way I like him, but he lusts after me. And that’s something, isn’t it?

“Fuck me,” I blurt out, I spread my legs for extra emphasis. Just in case he hasn’t quite understood what I’ve said.

“Not like this,” Will says softly, hands coming up to cover his face. He begs, he actually begs, “Put your clothes back on, Luce. Please, I’m a man, not a god. I can’t…can’t keep controlling myself forever…”

“Then don’t,” I say, I reach forward and grab him by the belt, tugging him closer to me until he’s standing right in front of me. The fabric of his trousers rubbing up against my pussy.

Will hisses, hands gripping my shoulders, “Please don’t put me in this position.”

I note with satisfaction just how focused his eyes are on my breasts though.

“Do you want me?” I unzip his trousers and belt, reaching passed underwear to caress hard male flesh. Will seems to have stopped breathing entirely. His eyes are wide, maybe terrified, maybe aroused.

“More than anything,” He grunts through gritted teeth. He doesn’t stop me, so I continue. I stroke up and down his thick length, squeezing him until his eyes become unfocused. He’s hot and throbbing in my hand. I want him in my mouth, between my thighs. I want him everywhere.

His hand comes up to rest on mine, stopping me, and I look up at his handsome face. The lines on his forehead are especially prominent tonight, he looks stressed. He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. I don’t know what to do with such tenderness. It would’ve been better if he’d just thrown me down and fucked me. But this? I’m truly powerless against this.

“I want you” he says, “I know I can’t deny that anymore. But the thing is that it’s not healthy for you to be with someone twice your age. We’re at different parts of our lives – the genuine connection we do have just won’t be enough to sustain the type of relationship you deserve.”

“You think we have a genuine connection?” I ask hopefully.

“Of course that’s the thing you choose to focus on,” his voice sounds pained, but he smiles, “I think so, but it’s not enough. Having a connection with someone doesn’t mean much when you’re twenty-three, want to go out clubbing and your asshole forty year old boyfriend won’t come because he’s just too old for that shit. It’s not enough when you’re in your thirties and ready to have kids, and he’s in his fifties and passed that, no longer interested in raising another family. These are the sorts of things that kill relationships. Connection will never be enough, because our barrier will always be the forever conflicting stages of life that we will go through. Go to bed. Tomorrow when you wake up, you’re gonna call up that counsellor of yours and go back.”

“Why worry about that future stuff? I’m not asking you to marry me. I just…” I don’t know what I want, that’s the truth really, “I just want to be with you. If that means having sex and nothing else, I’m fine with that.”

“People always say that; ‘let’s just have casual sex’. I don’t know anyone who has actually managed to make that work in the long term. One night stand? Sure. But longer than that, I do not think that works. Someone always gets hurt.” Will says, “Besides you deserve so much more.”

“I hate when guys say that.” I roll my eyes, I can’t help it. As an eighteen year old I am obligated to do this at least once a day.

“It’s true, though, Luce,” he sighs, “I’m not some teen boy telling you this stuff because I don’t want to take you to the Formal. If I didn’t find you attractive I sure as shit wouldn’t have just done what I did to you. I am a man telling a woman who I care for that I can’t give her what she needs to be a flourishing, happy, successful person.” Will says, “I want you to be happy, I want you to have a good life.”

“What if,” I swallow, I wrap my arms around myself, I feel foolish still sitting in front of Will naked when he’s just continuously rejecting me, “What if we’re at the same stages of life? What if I don’t want to go clubbing, what if I don’t want kids?”

Will shrugs, “You’re too young to know that, Luce.”

“Yeah,” I say, “But I guess you’ll never find out now if that’ll be the case. Maybe if the connection you felt for me was stronger you’d be willing to take the risk. Because,” I bite my lip wondering if I should say it, “because the risk is worth it to me, that’s how I feel.” I push to the side, getting off the table and I get dressed back into my pyjamas. I do so quickly, robotically. I can’t move in any way that feels emotional or I’m afraid I’ll blow up. Will seems to just stand back quietly.

“I’m not the only one who needs to sort my shit out,” I say quietly, I can’t look at him, “You touched me, you said that I shouldn’t seek this…this physical stuff from others. That I should do it with you. Then when I try to make sense of that, you just take it all back and you close yourself off. The emotional whiplash from you is too much, Will.” I manage to look up at him and for a moment we stare each other. “If you want to keep away from me, then do that.”

“You’re right,”

“And you know what else?” I’m getting angry now, “Fuck you for assuming I don’t know what I want, and that I’m after you to tie you down in a life-long relationship. Maybe I want a relationship with you, maybe I don’t. You’ll never know now, though, will you?” I take a deep breath and continue, “And another thing: fuck you.”

“Okay Luce. I think it’s time for bed.”

“The hell? Did you just try and send me to my room?” I am indignant, offended. I want to yell, but again I really don’t want to wake up Kate. So I hiss quietly, instead, “You are such an asshole. I am an adult you piece-of-shit, grumpy-fucking, intimidating, growly-big-dicked, nasty-tempered asshole. You don’t get to send me to damn bed. What, you got some fucked-up daddy-daughter, fucking-creepy-ass fantasy?”

If there is such a thing as being simultaneously horny and angry, I am there. I may have just accused him of something I am now fantasising about in outrageous detail. The idea of Will and I doing a sexy daddydom role-play is kind of turning me on a lot. Shouting ‘spank me, daddy,’ probably isn’t going to yield me any actual positive results.

“Don’t you use that foul language with me, Lucrezia.” Will’s eyes look dangerous, angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so terrifyingly mad. His voice is deceptively calm and that just makes it more terrifying.

“How you gonna stop me?” I shrug, smiling in the most unfriendly way in can manage, “You can’t do shit. I cannot believe I ever liked you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you when you’re like this.” Will says, “I don’t like this part of you.”