Page 65 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘Then can I just have some tap water?’
‘There’s Buxton over there.’
I need to make a point. They should provide water free of charge. I think it may be the law but I can sense someone standing behind me and I don’t want to be the mum who makes a scene, spoils a party and made small children cry.
‘I’ll take a jug then. Do you do blackcurrant?’
‘Yeah.’
She hands me a ready-made jug with five cups. I’m going to have to drink half of this to prove a point, aren’t I? Down it like shots. A better mother would have brought gin in an unmarked bottle and used this as a fruity mixer. I put my jug down and take a seat. Three boys are next to me, and there’s no other way of saying it, they’re beating the shit out of each other. My money’s on the one in the Minion T-shirt who looks like he’s about to bite. Is it terrible I don’t know any of their names?
My phone goes off in my pocket. For the love of Christ, Danny. It’s a sketch of someone wearing a strap-on, the one he started the other day when I was his model.
Finished it
FFS, I’m in soft play. This goes against the rules of conduct.
Should be OK as long as you’re wearing socks
It’s very good. Put it away you dirty bugger. Just paid £2 for a jug of squash.
Daylight robbery. Go take a piss in the ball pool.
Charming. And tempting.
I still have yet to figure out where we are with all of this. Last week, we had some pretty extraordinary sex – the sort where I forgot that we look like giant marshmallows and where we just enjoyed each other without distraction or hang-ups. Since then, the spark re-ignited, he sent me his first dick pic. He even put a filter through it to look vaguely arty. It’s a development, one that I’m not averse too. I still have yet to send him any snaps of my lady parts as I’m not sure I see the attraction but one day I may be brave enough to do so.
I pour myself a cup of watered-down squash and glare at Eyebrows in the kiosk who’s taking selfies. I could have urinated something stronger. I also look up to locate Eve who’s forgotten she’s thirsty. Darn her.
‘I think she’s up the mirrored tunnel thingy,’ gestures a mum next to me. I say ‘a mum’ as I can never remember this one’s name – she looks exactly like one of the other mothers in our class down to the blonde bob and the Converse… Jen, Jane? It could be anything. I was quite happy to dawdle at the end of this table and faff about on my phone but she’s drawn me into her small circle of mum gossip and if I ignore them again, I’ll be judged.
‘Thank you. I swear they need electronic trackers in these places.’
That raises a guffaw from Tash with the big laugh; the one who’s particularly good value at school events because she always gets drunk and heckles the headteacher. Next to her is Sally who I actively avoid as I may have not returned an Avon catalogue to her after Danny used it to scoop up cat poo in the kitchen.
‘How’s your ankle? Sarah said you broke it?’
There are sympathetic looks from all around the table. I don’t know these women well enough to tell them the truth. You know, going for it hammer and tongs and my tosser of a husband couldn’t handle my weight and dropped me.
‘An over-exaggeration really – I twisted it, good as new.’
They all nod and smile. Tash studies my face for longer than needs be though. I smile back. I’m fine, Tash. She puts her hand in mine and pats it. I’ve never really spoken to her that much so I’m not sure why she’s choosing to break the boundaries of personal space now. I reach over to my squash and down a cup to handle the awkwardness.
‘Remember that time I twisted my ankle trying to ride Henry’s scooter back from school?’ Sally utters to break the mood. ‘Oh Jen, thank god you were there to drive me home. Talk about looking like a complete tit.’ I laugh simply from having witnessed the incident. She went over the handlebars in her bootcut jeans and I remember how the qualified first aider ran out of the school playground, placed traffic cones around her and put her in the recovery position. There is a small scream from the climbing frame. We all turn simultaneously. Not our child.
‘So, Meg…we were all chatting before. Tash was talking about something her book group discovered online. Have you heard of this Captain Mintcake fella?’
As soon as the words come out of Jen’s mouth, I feel my shoulders shudder. Not here Jen, not in front of the children. How the hell do you know? Did she just see that sketch that Danny sent and she’s now trying to get me to fess up?
I laugh awkwardly. ‘Who on earth is Captain Mintcake?’ My mouth dry, I sip on my over-diluted squash. ‘Sounds like a cartoon character?’ That strange laugh comes out again. The ladies all around the table giggle in response. Tash leans in.
‘Well, I go to a book group every last Wednesday of the month and one of our readers showed us these online pictures written under the pseudonym Captain Mintcake. It’s amazing – all a bit raunchy,TheJoy of Sexstyle. It’s brilliant stuff.’
Tash looks genuinely excited and for a moment, I feel I need to capture this moment for Danny. Look here, I have found a real-life fan of yours. Captain Mintcake is out in the open. How am I expected to handle this level of secrecy when actual people know and are discussing it in soft play centres? On the other hand, I can’t resist having a little dig.
‘So, how raunchy?’
‘It’s real people, having sex. And the sex is pretty off the scale. I wouldn’t mind being Mrs Mintcake, if you know what I mean?’
