Page 56 of Always Alchemy

‘Fr Rafe!’ everyone calls out in unison. It’s Belle’s turn to cover her face with her hands as the rest of us do everything from giggle to full-on laugh, depending on how nice we are.

‘Cracking. Fr Rafe it is. Dust off that dog collar, you dodgy fuck, and you and Belle can have it off in the confessional.’

‘We don’t do that anymore,’ Belle protests weakly, andGen barks out an amused laugh. ‘Bollocks. Rafe rented the confessional room last week. If it wasn’t you in there with him, that’s a conversation I’ll leave you to have as husband and wife.’

Rafe laughs and tugs Belle into the cradle of his body. She still looks absolutely mortified, bless her. She’s such a sweetheart, and way classier than the rest of us.

‘Now, who should play Santa?’ I wonder aloud.

‘Anton, obviously,’ says Maddy, ‘because he’s by far the oldest.’

‘Ho ho ho,’ Anton says, an obliging smile on his face.

‘You’d better not be talking about me, darling,’ Gen hisses. ‘But I can get on board with Sexy Santa.’

‘We should offer Anton up as Sexy Santa at the Christmas party,’ Maddy muses. ‘Everyone would want to sit on his knee.’

‘Over my dead body,’ Gen says.

We quickly cover off the rest of the months. I suggest doing a ‘New Year, New You’ photo with my beautiful wife, mainly so I can grease up my guns and show off my workout look, and Adam offers his gorgeous basement gym as a location. For logistical and branding purposes it makes sense to shoot the bulk of the images here at Alchemy, but Adam’s gym is Joe Wicks’ wet dream, so I jump at the offer.

He and Nat will do February as a way to plug her new lingerie collection which comes out in time for Valentine’s Day. I make a note to find a florist who’d be happy to supply buckets of red roses in exchange for some free publicity and a bit of good karma.

March and April we have covered with Fr Rafe and the dodgy shower trio. For May, Maddy suggests with almost indecent enthusiasm that she and Zach do a Slave Night reenactment with her strapped to one of the St Andrew’scrosses in The Playroom. It’s the second time she’s suggested it—I think she really wants this.

‘You’ll have leery old men wanking off to that photo,’ Zach says in outrage.

She bats her eyelashes at him. ‘I’ll have lots of men wanking off to it. Come on, babes. You know I like everyone looking at me, and I’m not exactly the centre of attention when I’m pushing a toddler around the streets.’

I smile to myself as I write their names in May’s slot. Mads is still a total knockout, but I get that she’d like a bit of glamour in her life. She and Zach certainly don’t frequent the club anywhere near as much these days. I’m sure they do all right for themselves in the privacy of their bedroom, but it can’t hurt for them to get dressed up and relive the night that I’m pretty positive was the sexual highlight of my mate’s entire life.

‘Zach and Mads for May,’ I confirm aloud as I type. ‘St. Andrew’s. Cross. You can thank me later, mate.’

‘Speaking of meaningful reenactments,’ Anton pipes up, his hand now on Gen’s thigh, ‘I have a scene I’d like to revisit with my wife on my former boardroom table. Max, I’d like to borrow your office for the day if you please. And no, you’renotinvited.’

Gen closes her eyes briefly as if mortified and titillated in equal measure.

Darcy giggles.

‘With pleasure,’ Max says affably. ‘Just make sure you disinfect the whole bloody lot afterwards, okay?’

‘Gen and Anton—office fuckery,’ I note aloud. ‘We should do Independence Day for July so we can flog this thing stateside. Rafe and Belle—you can do something firework-y, no?’

‘Fireworks in an enclosed space,’ Belle muses. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’

‘You be Taylor Swift, sweetheart,’ Rafe says. ‘I’ll be Tom Hiddleston and wear anI-heart-TSt-shirt.’

‘You’re such a swiftie,’ Belle scoffs while Maddy claps.

‘Aww, you’ve got him trained so well!’

I nominate Zach, Maddy and Norm for a Dog Days of Summer image for August. ‘Norm fucking deserves his place on the calendar. He’s far more committed to this place than most of you.’

‘As long as you two don’t shag in front of him,’ Nat says, screwing up her sweet little face.

‘Ew,’ Maddy says. ‘Obviously not.’

With every slot taken except for November, that final slot goes to Dex, Darcy and Max. ‘November is fucking miserable,’ I grumble. ‘Nothing like a ménage to perk people up when it’s dark and wet. We’ll put you on a pole, Darcy. Maybe we can find your old wings too, yeah?’

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