Page 92 of Great Sexpectations
‘He said you used to steal out of charity boxes and kick cats.’
OK, now I could boil his balls in hot oil while they’re still attached to him.
‘Well, I don’t do that, just in case you were wondering.’
‘And all that stuff from the TV, do you really work in the sex toy industry?’ she asks me.
‘I do.’
‘It’s just you seem quite…’
‘Normal?’ I laugh. I always laugh when people say this. They assume I walk around like a grimy fella in a trench coat, flashing it open to reveal it’s lined with dildos and lube.
‘Are you with someone else now?’ she asks me, hopeful.
‘No.’ I feel a jolt of sadness as I think of Cameron for a moment, fleetingly. ‘But hey… one day. It’ll come, true love always comes.’
I smirk a little as I say that, looking in Michelle’s direction.
‘I hope you know why I did this?’ Laila continues. ‘I just wanted answers. I needed to piece it altogether, to see if you had any information.’
‘I wish I’d done the same when it happened to me,’ I admit.
Maybe that’s my biggest regret in all of this. I just let it happen to me.
‘Can I get you another coffee? I am sorry if I ruined your weekend?’
I smile at her and shake my head. ‘I’m good. I think you did the very opposite.’
TWENTY
‘OMG! HAVE YOU SEEN THE WANGER ON HIM?!’
The lovely Tina is really very drunk this evening and I’m not sure whether to take the drink off her or give her more, such is the entertainment that she is providing. The wanger she refers to belongs to a man called Julius, who tonight is modelling for us, in the nude, as we try to paint him. The wanger is impressive. I hope they’ve given us enough paint. Around us are many gentlemen wearing thongs, aprons and bow ties, mixing cocktails and serving canapés. It’s a running theme for this evening, wanger on teeny-tiny toast.
‘I don’t even know where to look,’ Tina continues, her eyes rolling around her head. I don’t know if this is alcohol or that she’s trying not to look Julius’ appendage in the eye. It’s not the sun, Tina. You won’t go blind. ‘How are you not even flinching?’ she asks me.
‘Because I’m desensitised to it all. It’s like violence and swearing on the television,’ I say casually. ‘I’ve seen them all.’
Julius raises an eyebrow to me at this point as I guess that statement could be taken in a number of ways. I’ve only been with eleven men, Julius. But I’ve seen dildos, I’ve seen porn, I’ve even been in a room with five men, all with erect penises once, stood there with a tape measure to work out whose was the best looking so that we could model our dildos on them. The best belonged to a man called Adam. It was very smooth, sturdy and the length of a healthy cucumber.
‘To be fair, I’ve seen bigger,’ Mum adds, not even hesitating. I really do not want to know where, but Julius looks slightly insulted by the comment.
I love how Mum has decided that, to take on this painting challenge, it’ll need reading glasses, which she perches on the end of her nose. Her painting is careful, portraying things as accurately as possible. Tina, on the other hand, is so drunk that her painting has taken on more of an abstract Dalíesque quality. I don’t know if that’s a leg or a penis.
I don’t usually paint, but I will admit there’s a wonderful creative freedom in tonight’s activity. I might take this up as a hobby. Maybe landscapes, though, as opposed to trying to work out how to accurately capture the texture of a scrotum.
‘Is it OK? Do you think people are having fun, Josie? I don’t know if people are having fun?’ Ruby suddenly appears next to me, drink in hand. She looks flawless in a scarlet minidress, her usual hair and make-up all styled to perfection.
‘You’re not painting,’ I tell her, sitting there like Picasso. ‘Chill out and get some cock on canvas.’
She giggles, cupping her hands to her mouth. Like my brother, who’s just come back from Prague for a couple of days, Ruby has also drawn out her hen do celebrations. She took some mates to Barcelona, she’s spent all day having afternoon tea and getting spa treatments with assorted grandmothers and aunties and, tonight, she’s hired out the top floor of this swanky hotel bar. I hope she’s enjoying herself, but as I see her sip nervously from her cocktail and adjust her fake veil, I see a look of panic in her eyes.
‘Hey, seriously, Ruby,’ I say, putting an arm around her. ‘It’s really good fun. Relax.’
‘The girl behind us… The blonde one…’
I do a very good job of turning quite subtly to take her in. She is blonde, but it’s definitely out of the bottle and I’d take bets on her collar and cuffs not matching.
