Seven Days: The Complete Story Page 7

I don’t think I’ve ever been ‘propositioned’.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Have you got anything to drink?”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little early?”

  Nicholas shrugs. “It’s beer o’clock somewhere in the world.”

  I sigh. He seems anxious, like he wants to say something important but is afraid I’ll clock him over the head with a book when he does. “I have cider, I think.”

  I get up and go to the kitchen. I scour the fridge and find three stray bottles from a six-pack. I throw a few crackers onto a plate with some left over cheese and dip because Mum always said you should offer guests something to eat and drink. It’s only manners. Plus, I need a minute to collect myself. Being so close to them both is making it hard for me to think straight.

  When I return, the boys have their heads together. Their voices are low and I can’t hear what they’re saying but it’s obvious it’s about me because they instantly go quiet when they see me return. They look like two school boys caught smoking behind the shelter sheds, though I sense whatever it is they’re about to share might be a tad more serious than who gets the last drag of the cigarette.

  I put the plate on the table and give them a bottle each. Then I sit opposite, fighting the overwhelming urge to climb over it and curl up in Nicholas’ lap. I can’t help it. The man is all unruly hair and bare chest. How am I meant to resist that?

  I take a swig of my drink, forgetting that the time has only recently ticked over to lunch. “So, what’s up?”

  They look at each other. They don’t seem to know what to say or maybe who should say it. For some reason they seem hesitant. Then, Joel speaks, “Nick and I mulled this over all last night and we’ve talked about it again this morning.”

  “Like I said,” Nicholas adds. “The ocean has a way of giving you clarity.”

  “Yeah,” Joel agrees. “Whatever. Anyway, we’re assuming after what happened, that you like both of us.” He gestures to his friend as if to confirm what the three of us already know. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who goes round hooking up with everything that walks—”

  Ah, like, duh.

  “I’m not.”

  “But you like us both.”

  I wish they’d get to the point. I pick up my cider and take another swig. I don’t know why I’m so uncomfortable with this conversation. I’ve had far more awkward ones. “You have some form of solution for my dilemma?”

  “Yeah. A threesome.”

  And my cider spurts from my mouth across the table. Tiny bubbles of it land in the dip. Even more embarrassingly a few land on Joel’s chest. I begin to cough. I’m choking. Oh, this is hectic. I’m going to die before I ever get to contemplate having sex with the two men who just propositioned me.

  Nicholas moves to my side of the table. He slaps me on the back. His hand lingers even after I stop coughing.

  “What? Like, with you two?” I ask, looking up at him. I must sound like a complete moron but, come on, how many of us would ever get propositioned in this way unless they’re on some reality show?

  “Yeah.”

  “Like, at the same time?” I know that they think I’m clueless about this but I’m actually in shock. I’m beyond confused.

  “That’s the general definition of a threesome I believe,” Joel quips.

  Smart arse.

  “Are you mental?”

  On the other side of the table, Nicholas chuckles.

  “Gay, then?”

  Not that I have anything against the way people express their love but… hey. And if that’s what this is really about and they think they can use me to experiment or something, they’ve seriously picked the wrong girl.

  “Nope. Not gay,” Joel says. “Can’t speak for the big guy, of course, but I’ve never had a romantic thought about him in my life. I want you. So does Nick. This seems like the logical way to get what the three of us want. All jealousies aside.”

  Well, for a man maybe. But it’s about sex for them, isn’t it? I mean, I know men fantasise about this kind of stuff but isn’t it two girls and a guy? I’ve never heard of two blokes and a girl in my life. I’m sure it happens. It’s just that it doesn’t happen with me. I’m nice, sensible Sadie. I don’t sleep with men I hardly know, let alone two of them at the same time. And frankly, I’m a little bit cross that this is what they want me to do.

  Okay, a lot cross.

  “What the hell do you take me for? I’m not going to be hopping into bed with either of you any time soon, especially not at the same time. I have standards.”

  Nicholas looks dismayed. “No, Sadie no. No one’s suggesting you’re anything but the sweet, honest girl you are. I don’t think you’re some bit of scruff. And Joel doesn’t think it either.”

  “Then what the hell do you think? First you tell me you’d most likely kill each other if I were with either one of you, now you’re asking me to have a threesome? Is this some kind of joke because I’m not finding it funny.”

  “We’re not joking.”

  Right. Well at least we have that straight. They’re not in love with each other and they want to have sex with me. Together. “So. Hypothetically. How do you propose we’re going to have this threesome? Are you going to be able to deal with the jealousy if we do it and I decide I like one of you better? Won’t you want to kill each other all over again? What will that mean for your business together? And what about my feelings?”

  Wow. I said that so fast I almost sounded like Emily.

  Nicholas pulls the chair out that’s beside me. He straddles it; his knees are close to my thigh. I can feel the warmth of his body on my leg and we’re not even touching. “It will be an arrangement, a strictly nostrings-attached thing.”

  “But I’m going to know who’s doing what. I mean, I will be able to see you, feel you.”

  “Not if it’s completely dark, or you’re blindfolded. This’ll be about pleasure only. For the three of us. We’ll remain equal.”

  “But your hair, it’s completely different to Joel’s. And your voices…”

  I can’t believe I’m even having this discussion. There’s no way I’m going to do it. Is there?

  “We’ve got a plan. One of the rules will be that you won’t be allowed to touch anywhere above the neck.”

  There are rules? I sit with my mouth open. I don’t know what to say. This is not Fifty Shades of Threesome. I won’t be signing any stupid contracts or engaging in kinky shit. I’m not bloody Anastasia Steele.

  “When you leave the bay, that will be the end of it,” Joel says, calmly. “Finito. Holiday romance over. We’ll never see each other again. This is strictly for pleasure.”

  Which would be right up Joel’s alley given his aversion to commitment.

  I pick up my cider and drain the rest of the bottle. I am dumbfounded but of course, I’m not going to take them up on their offer so the logistics of the thing mean nothing. It’s hypothetical. I mean, how could I? The idea of me having a threesome is beyond ridiculous, even if they don’t think so. I cannot comprehend such a thought.

  But then Nicholas looks at me, his large blue eyes search mine and he blinks twice. Slowly.

  Oh God. I’m going to give in. Despite what my brain is telling me is right, despite the huge warning signs flashing above his head I know I’m going to give in.

  *****

  I wander about the house with my head somewhere in the erotic clouds. After two hours of discussion, I’ve agreed, tentatively, to meet the guys at a club tonight where we’ll have a few drinks to get in the mood for the ‘big event’. There’s no pressure on me and if I say no at the last minute that’ll be it, they’ve agreed to accept any change of heart. So this thing, if it happens, is up to me. I might have agreed in theory, but I know when the moment comes my conscience may well override any desire I have. Because when it all boils down to it, I don’t know if I can have sex for the sake of it. It doesn’t matter who’s asking.

  At six, still torn by i
ndecision, I ring Emily but there’s no answer. It’s not like her and it makes me worry so I leave her a message and send her a text to call me. I need to know she’s safe. She’s all I have left in the world.

  By seven, I’ve made up my mind to go through with it. I’ve de-haired every inch of my body, plucked my eyebrows, given myself a home pedicure and finished painting my fingernails. I’ve never given this much thought to the way I look for seduction before, but I figure if there’s going to be two men inspecting me, I have to look twice as good. I’ve even straightened my hair, a process that can take hours given it’s thickness, but I like how I look when it’s straight. It’s sophisticated and grown up, not me. I’m someone else. I’m feeling nervous now and a little excited. The butterflies I used to get before I went on stage in dance competitions have resurfaced and are flittering madly in my stomach. I actually feel rather queasy.

  At almost nine, I pack my phone, lipstick and some money in my clutch. I go to the toilet for the seventeenth time and as I smooth my dress over my hips, I silently thank Emily for insisting I throw it in my bag when I was packing. Then, with a deep breath, I head for the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I reach the club about ten minutes later. There’s a queue and the door bitch looks me up and down while scrutinising my ID. It doesn’t phase me, I get asked how old I am all the time so I smile sweetly at her, knowing that every bit of ID she’ll now ask to see will tell her the same thing. I’m twenty-one. After making her point by getting the security guy to check inside my shoes and pat me down in search of drugs — ‘cause I really look like I’m a dealer — she allows me entry. I can’t believe she’s made a fuss simply because she can. Some people are on such a power trip.

  Inside, I walk around the bar looking for Nicholas and Joel. We decided to meet in the furthest corner from the door but the guys aren’t here yet which is doing little for the second and third thoughts I’m having about this. I’m more nervous than before. So nervous, in fact, the minute I receive my first drink I knock it across the counter of the bar without even having a sip. The second drink disappears in much the same fashion because my hand is shaking, so I decide to buy two straight shots of tequila for my third attempt. Firstly, the glasses are so small I can’t possibly knock another one over and secondly, if I drink it fast, I might loosen up and calm down. Because right at this minute, I think I’m going to throw up. My stomach is in my mouth and the butterflies I felt before I left home are clomping around inside it, wearing boots. I have no idea what possessed me and I certainly don’t know why I spent the last four hours preparing like I’m going to an up close and personal photo shoot. I am not a threesome kind of girl. I’m so confused. I don’t know what kind of girl I am any more.

  I down my two shots and order a glass of champagne and some water. The barman frowns at my swift ordering of drinks but says nothing. He probably sees girls every night who come here to pick up. Lonely girls on holiday looking for a bit of fun and ordering Dutch courage to make it easier. Is that what I am? Are the guys taking advantage of me? Have they spotted that I’m vulnerable and are swooping in for the kill? Maybe they do this all the time. Despite what they’re saying, they could be serial threesome types and everything they’ve done for me so far is part of their routine.

  Why am I even here?

  I take a glug of my champagne; the bubbles go up my nose. Deciding that I never should have consented to this insanity, I pick up my purse to leave and turn… SMACK!… into the rock hard chest of Joel. His hands fly to my elbows, steadying me. A flicker of attraction builds and explodes as my eyes travel slowly towards his face where a waiting eyebrow quirks in my direction.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Um, hi.” Wow. He looks hot. Literally sizzling, in fact. He’s wearing dark jeans and a crisp white shirt. There’s a leather thong at his throat with something heavy and silver hanging from it. His hair is newly washed and still damp, I can smell the shampoo. And he’s shaved. The skin of his jaw looks so smooth; I just want to touch it. I swallow. “I was just, um, just popping to the loo.”

  “You weren’t leaving?” He sounds almost sad, as if he’d be devastated if I had decided to leave.

  “Of course not.” I try to relax my smile but I know I’m showing a lot of teeth and probably look like some sort of deranged person who forgot to take her medication. “Order me another drink, I’ll be back in a tick.”

  And with that I race to the toilet, which is lucky because, by the time I get there, I find I really do have to go. Again. Damn nerves.

  So, I’m standing in line, jiggling my leg and checking out the clothes of the other girls in the queue — one has a rather nice pair of strappy sandals and these cute pants — when my phone vibrates in my clutch. It’s Emily.

  “I rang you hours ago,” I admonish. “I left three messages and a text. I was so worried. Where are you?”

  “Calm down, Clarice,” Emily replies, with a giggle. I, so, hate it when she calls me that. “I could ask you the same thing—”

  Huh?

  “—I’m at yours. Where the hell are you? I turned up expecting to find you curled up in your jimjams eating chocolate and reading one of those inane books you like but it’s blacker than the inside of my wardrobe in your house.”

  That’s saying something. Emily wears trademark black almost everywhere. It’s like her thing.

  “You’re here? How can you be here?”

  “I thought I’d surprise you. Come up and spend the weekend, have some girlie time, then give you a lift back to town. I swapped my shifts at the café.”

  Suddenly, I have this sinking feeling like the blood has drained from my body. There’s a distinct chance I might actually be going to vomit for real. There are two men waiting for me in the bar. My best friend is waiting for me at home. I cannot introduce them. I cannot. They must not meet because Emily must not know. She’d be appalled. She thinks I’m so straight, so under the radar that me doing something so out of the ordinary might tip her over the edge. Because no matter what she says or how she acts, Emily is the monogamous type. She’s fragile. She abhors people who have affairs, no matter what the situation. Seeing me with two men would knock our friendship into the bay. Either that or she’ll try to chat up Joel. He’s definitely her type. A stab of jealousy twists at my insides as I contemplate that idea.

  “I’m at a club,” I say, “But I’ll come home. Give me five minutes. It’s not far.”

  “You’re at a club?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Alone?”

  “Not exactly. There’s about two hundred people here. It’s packed to the gills.”

  Not to mention the two guys I’m with.

  “Awesome. I’m so glad you’re getting out again. You haven’t been yourself for a long time. Give me directions and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Um, er, um.” This is not good. I should have said I was at the library. Emily never goes there. I don’t think she even knows what a library is.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t you want me to come?”

  Oh geez.

  “Of course I do.”

  “But—”

  How can I say ‘but I don’t want to share my two boyfriends without offending her? She’ll be awfully upset and I wouldn’t hurt her for the world. An elongated sigh escapes my lips. “But nothing,” I say in the perkiest, most enthused voice I can muster, “Get your butt down here this second.”

  “Hashtag, magic!”

  “And no more hashtags. You’re not an Instagram celebrity.”

  “Yet.”

  I tell Emily the address and hang up my phone, which I slip back into my bag. My nerves appear to have subsided, along with my need for the toilet, so I rush back to the bar hoping to at least get a chance to speak to Nicholas and Joel before Emily arrives. I have to tell them I’m sorry, that I didn’t plan for this to happen, that this is not some scenario I’ve concocted to tease or worse still get out of the threesome. And it
’s certainly not because I’m keen to engage in some sort of sex-party-slash-orgy thing between the lot of us. More importantly, I have to warn them about Emily. She’ll be like a bee to honey when she sees these two.

  *****

  The music is ripping when I get back from the toilet. Strobe lights are bouncing around the room making everyone look like they’re doing strange robot dancing. The crowd has increased but it’s easy to see the boys. They have this presence that makes the rest of the crowd pale into insignificance. Plus, there’s a group of five or so girls about my age in the corner tittering in their direction. Their giggles are like a beacon pointing straight toward my men.

  My men?

  Hmm. Not yet. Probably never if Emily gets wind of it.

  Nicholas hands me a drink and I take it, downing the entire glass in one go.

  “There you are,” he says. “Joel and I were worried we’d have to brave the depths of the ladies’ loo to look for you. Thirsty work waiting in the toilet line, huh?”

  I put my glass on the bar. “Not really. Listen, I’ve got something to tell you and I don’t know how you’re going to react.”

  Joel, who’s been eyeing off the dance floor, swivels to face me. “You’ve changed your mind. No biggie. We’ll cope.”

  I hate that he’s being so blasé about this when I know he likes me, more than likes me. What’s the deal with that?

  “No. No,” I answer. I’m practically screeching and it’s then I realise that I haven’t changed my mind at all. It was simply my nerves getting the better of me and making my mind think silly things. “But there could be a problem. There is a problem. While I was in the toilet, my best friend Emily rang. She’s here. She wanted to surprise me. She’s on her way over. She can’t ever know I was considering a threesome. She just can’t.”

  Nicholas runs a hand through his hair. I feel myself dissolve into a little lust puddle beside him. “We can call it off,” he says.

  “It was fairly obvious you were shitting yourself when we got here,” Joel adds.

  And here I was thinking I was all calm and relaxed. Not.