Sloane is definitely too perky. It’s barely 10am and Chloe and I have been hefting boxes around since 7am. I’d quite like to nap for an hour and leave unpacking to the afternoon but Sloane is having none of it.
“Good plan,” I reply, without moving. “Just need to find the energy to get up.”
“Have you told Colin you’re moving out yet?” asks Chloe, sitting up.
“No. Want to help me craft that text?”
“Oh, do I ever,” she grins, grabbing my phone. She types aloud:
Hello, Colin, you incredible lowlife. I’ve moved out. The palatial house is all yours until I inevitably get it in the divorce. Keep your stupid BMW, your tragic suits, and the tumble dryer. I’ll keep the moral high ground – and my unlimited potential for happiness now that I’m rid of you. Regards, Emmeline.
Sloane cackles.
“Dare you to send that.” She grins as I swipe my phone back out of Chloe’s hand.
“Don’t tempt me. If I actually want to retain the moral high ground, I’ve got to be a grown up about it,” I say, as Chloe pouts. I grab my phone and start a proper reply.
Colin, I’ve moved out. You’re welcome to the house for now. I’ve appointed a solicitor so please do the same. Take care.
Both Sloane and Chloe try to object but I hit send anyway.
“You’re letting him off too easy,” says Sloane, with a frown that matches Chloe’s.
“Maybe,” I reply. “But this isn’t about him. I’m doing this for me.”
And with that, we start to unpack my stuff, in earnest, into my new life.
Two hours later, we’re at brunch. I’ve just recounted the tale of my massage with Lotus and Chloe’s mouth is hanging open. Sloane is smiling like the cat who got the cream.
“You ok there, Chlo?” I ask, as I watch her brain working.
“I mean, wow. I had no idea that was a thing that women could do. And it’s just occurred to me: I have had every type of professional down there.” She widens her eyes and casts them down towards her crotch. “I’ve had hot wax spread over my asshole, been practically fisted by midwives, and had doctors sew my torn vagina back together, but I’ve never once had a professional do anythingnice. Or pleasant. Let alone actively pleasurable.”
Sloane, visibly shuddering at the concept of vaginal tearing, gives her an encouraging nod.
“I can book you in with Lotus if you like, Chloe?” she offers and Chloe laughs.
“I’ll definitely think about it, but I am SO proud of you for going, Em. Good for you getting a decent orgasm for once.”
“Amen,” agrees Sloane, tucking into her avocado on toast.
“I’ve been thinking about the Fuckit List a lot, actually,” Chloe adds, chewing on her French toast thoughtfully. “There’s lots of fairly standard stuff on there, right?”
“Yup,” I confirm. “Colin didn’t have any imagination and the few times I suggested we try something new, he told me I was being gross or weird.” I shrug. Sloane looks aghast.
“He kink shamed you?!” she rages, her voice rising. A few people at nearby tables glance over. “He actually kink shamed you?” she repeats, her eyes full of concern.
“Yeah, I guess so?” I reply, pushing bacon around my plate. Sloane blows out a breath.
“Fuck me,” she says, shaking her head.
“For the record, I always hated the guy,” Chloe chimes in. “But I was thinking about the, er, logistics of the list. What’s your thinking on how to tick them off?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you planning to do each one with someone new?” she pushes.
“You need a fuck buddy,” declares Sloane, grabbing the hot sauce and liberally smothering her avocado. “Or maybe a small collective of fuck buddies, depending on the kinks.”
