‘Here’s to the merry rugby widows,’ I say, holding my glass aloft. I’m not wishing ill on their men. The name is one my friends have coined themselves.
I turn and glance out of the French doors to where Ella’s son, Louis, and Sorcha, Paisley’s stepdaughter, are running around the play area, enjoying the unexpected sunshine. Meanwhile, little Juno, Ella’s toddler daughter, sleeps soundly in her stroller in the corner.
‘Isn’t it amazing how nothing keeps Juno awake,’ I ponder aloud.
‘Poor thing had to get used to it. Ours is hardly a quiet house, what with Louis and Mac and the dog running about. Boys are such noisy creatures. It’s just as well my girl can sleep on a washing line.’ Ella turns, smiling serenely at her sleeping child. ‘Still, let’s make the most of the quiet before the little monster awakes and spoils our wine time.’
‘She doesn’t spoil it. She enhances it,’ I say.
Ella snorts delicately. ‘She keeps the calories off my hips at least.’ Juno is at the age where she doesn’t seem to know that her bottom can be used for sitting on. ‘Although you seem to do the lion’s share of chasing her around the playground when we’re here.’
‘I like to pitch in,’ I respond.And I like to snatch my chubby baby cuddle time where I can, I admit silently as I take a sip of my wine.
‘Have you had a nice weekend?’ Paisley asks. I put my glass down on the table as I begin to cough.
‘Went down the wrong way,’ I say, thumbing my chest. ‘S-same as usual, I suppose. And yours?’ She doesn’t know about Flynn, does she? How could she? Unless he told. And if he told, someone’s about to get butt hurt.With my umbrella.
‘You didn’t see anyone... go out for dinner. Maybe sign up to any dating sites... ?’
‘You missed your calling. You should’ve been an archaeologist.’
‘Digging?Moi?’ She touches her chest lightly, faux offended.
‘Hey, what’s a yoni?’ Ella asks no one in particular, making me cough-choke my wine again.
‘Honey,’ Paisley begins, amused. ‘Do you want to ask that a little louder. I think some of the people standing at the bar didn’t hear you.’
‘Oh, God. I take it it’s something unpleasant.’
‘I wouldn’t be without mine.’ Paisley snorts. ‘I think the word is Hindi. For your bits.’ Brows raised, I lower my eyes to my lap. ‘You know?’
‘That was very circumspect coming from you, fast girl.’
‘Watch it, you,’ I respond, pointing a finger in Paisley’s direction. ‘Fast Girl is responsible for your pay check as well as mine.’
‘But where did that come from?’ Paisley asks, turning to Ella. ‘And how the hell do you not know?’
‘It’s not really athingover here,’ I interject on Ella’s behalf. Still, she must be a little sheltered. Or I’m a little too knowledgeable in such things.
‘I read it in a magazine,’ Ella replies. ‘It sort of came back to me just then, so I thought I’d ask.’
‘Most people use Google,’ Paisley replies.
‘Can you imagine what results that search would’ve yielded? Google will literally make me blind one of these days.’ Unfortunately, this will probably happen.
‘That’s on account of you being a dirty pervert,’ Paisley replies with a chuckle. ‘In a totally professional sense.’
Can a person be classed as perverted when they can only orgasm with one person? Not even with themselves? That sounds more like broken than depraved. And that was a bullet dodged earlier this morning. I can’t help that I can’t censor my orgasm outpourings no more than I can mycome face. It’s just a shame, and a little bit weird, that they appear to sound so directional.
Oh, there it is...
Imagine if I told Flynn this morning he’s the only one that can “find” my orgasm. As if he’s not already full enough of himself.
‘Oh, God, I have to tell you something funny before Keir turns up!’ Paisley is suddenly super animated. ‘So there have been a couple of break-ins in the neighbourhood, and Keir decided it would be a good idea to beef up security, like we really need it,’ she adds, rolling her eyes.
‘We were going out last weekend for dinner. I called a cab, it arrived, but as Keir was coming out of our bedroom, the damn cat ran inside. Princess Kitty should be called princess pain in my ass because the last time she was allowed in our room, she left a calling card in the bathtub, if you know what I mean.’
‘Kids and animals,’ commiserates Ella, indelicately screwing up her nose. ‘Poo.’
