Not That Easy (8 page)

I closed my eyes as Pete came nearer, waiting for his lips to touch mine. Instead, I felt something nibble my cheek.

“OW,” I screeched, wrenching my eyes open. “What the fuck? Did you just . . . bite me?!”

He backed away and laughed awkwardly. “No, I, um . . . yeah. Yeah, I guess I did,” he said, looking firmly at the floor.

I stared at him. “But . . . why?”

“Just, um, thought it would be fun,” he said, with an embarrassed shrug.

“Right. What? I . . . sorry am I missing something here?”

“No, it was just a little bite.”

I stared at him in incomprehension. What the fuck was happening?? He looked down at the floor. I shook my head. I would deal with this in the morning.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, I'd, um, better get going. So, bye?”

“Wait, can I have your number first, Ellie? Please?”

“Um, yeah, fine,” I said, taking the phone he was holding out to me. I tapped my number out then gave it back to him, vowing to never, ever return to this bar again. “I'd better go, but, um, have a good night.”

I walked quickly out of the bar without looking behind me. I had no idea what had just happened, but all I wanted to do was call Lara. Instead, I had to go home with an Internet date who liked Wittgenstein. This was not a good sign.

“Ellie, hey,” said Ben, as I walked out of the bar.

I reminded myself that he was more attractive than Pete, didn't have dreadlocks, and, most importantly, had not bitten me. I greeted him back with a long kiss.

“Well, hello.” He grinned. “The cab's here.”

“Oh yeah, where are we going?”

“Hoxton.”

“Oh perfect, near me,” I said, climbing into the back seat of the cab. It was a battered Honda with tape across one of the windowpanes.
Please be a registered minicab,
I prayed.
Are you listening, Caesar? Or even you, God? I don't want to die without having a real orgasm.

“It's not this one,” gasped Ben as we stood snogging in the hallway. He pushed me into his bedroom and straight onto the double bed in the middle of the room. We had kissed nonstop for the fifteen-minute cab ride to his, and now we were both ready to fuck. “God, I've wanted you all night,” he breathed into my neck.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I chose not to reply. Instead, I used all my energy to focus on not throwing up whilst snogging him.

He pinned my arms up above my head and pulled my dress off in one swift move. He had definitely done this before. I tried not to think about my tummy being on show and quickly undid my bra so he would be too distracted by my boobs to notice my lower lumps.

“You're so sexy,” he said, nuzzling into my cleavage. I giggled in response, wondering what I was meant to do, when his head was nowhere near my face. I settled for rubbing my hands across his back, but he took this as an invitation to lower himself down the bed, farther away from my face. He pulled off my tights and knickers.

I lay on his bed stark naked with my trimmed pubes on show. I forced myself to breathe calmly. I did not care that he could see my pubes. I was a feminist. I didn't believe in pulling out every hair. I had tried shaving, hair removal creams, waxing and all had ended in painful humiliation so I had opted for scissors. It was fine, normal even.

He took his glasses off and came up close to my vagina as though he was inspecting it. Then he pulled apart the lips and gently slipped his tongue out onto my clitoris. I gasped. It was not in pleasure.

I never knew what to do when someone was licking me out—even though it had only happened once before—and all I could think was that he was licking the little trimmed hairs on my labia majora. Besides, what if it smelled badly? I'd been at work all day; it was probably really sweaty down there.

I pulled him up towards me and began snogging him again. “Wait, I've got something in my mouth,” he said.

Oh my God. A pube. It had to be. I must have missed one and he had a long strand in his mouth.

I sat frozen, as he pulled something out of his mouth. We squinted at it in the dim light. It wasn't a pube. It was a white little wad of . . . paper?

He'd found loo roll inside my vagina.

I wanted to scream, but instead I sprung into action. I grabbed it from him, flicked it away and said, “Oh, looks like some random fluff.”

He shrugged. “Weird.”

I breathed out in relief. He hadn't figured out what it was. I flung my arms around him and distracted him with kisses. He closed his eyes and snogged me back. The crisis was averted. Thank fuck he hadn't realized that while he'd been licking my clitoris he'd also been licking old loo roll. God, how long had it been there?!

The thought of urine-stained toilet paper was not helping me get in the mood for sex. I had to focus. This was more important than a minor paper mishap. I needed to get Ben naked. I started
trying to undo the buttons on his shirt, but he rescued me from my fumbling efforts and pulled his shirt off. He did the same with his jeans until they got stuck around his ankles.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine,” he grunted. “For fuck's sake, these jeans are so bloody tight sometimes.”

“Yep, guess they're called skinny jeans for a reason,” I quipped.

He ignored me and pulled them off with a triumphant tug, taking his boxers with them. I tried to sneak a look at his penis, but he was angled away from me and it was dark.

I lay back on his bed, nervous. Oh God. This was finally about to happen. I was officially terrified. “Do you, um, have a . . . condom?”

“Shit, I don't know,” he said. “Can we do it without?”

I sat up straight in the bed. Without?! Did he want me to give him my leftover chlamydia? Or give me his?? I opened my mouth to categorically tell him no we could not, but no words came out.
Pull yourself together, Elena
, I yelled at myself, using the name only my mother ever used. The thought of my mother jolted me into action. She would kill me if I got AIDS.

“No,” I said firmly.

He sighed and started looking around his room for a condom. “Got one.”

“Great.”

I smiled nervously, as he started slipping one on. He came closer to me in the dark and lowered his body on top of mine. We kissed gently and I ran my hands over his body. He was so toned, and his muscles rippled as he groaned. I lowered my hands towards his penis. I felt his snail trail and followed it down. That was funny . . . the hair leading down his tummy to his penis was spiky. And it was in a very thin line.

I got out my other hand and touched the line down to his penis. It carried on all the way. But where were his pubes?! Frantically, I searched across his groin, but I couldn't feel any pubes. It was all
smooth except for the thin line going down. If he were a woman I'd say he had a Brazilian landing strip.

I jolted up and pushed him off me.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just, um, can we put the light on for a sec?”

“Sure.” He grinned. “Sorry, I thought you'd be like most girls and prefer fucking in the dark.” He flicked a light switch and suddenly I was face-to-face with his naked body. His pubes were shaved so that he had a thin line, about two millimeters wide, going down from his belly button to his penis.

It was a boy Brazilian. I stopped myself from crying out in shock. I had to stay calm. Boyzilians were probably a thing, and I just hadn't seen enough penises to come across one before. It was fine—we could still have sex. I was so close to getting what I wanted and finally doing what everyone else did. I had to keep going or I'd never find out what all the fuss was about.

“Ben, I'm so sorry,” I sighed. “I just . . . I'm not sure I can do this.”

“What? Why not?” he asked.

“Just, um, I don't feel great.”

“Fine, whatever,” he said, clearly pissed off. “Are you . . . uh, bussing it home then?”

I stared at him in shock. He wanted me to leave his flat. In the early pre-dawn hours. He didn't want me in his bed and I would have to walk through a council estate to get home. How was any of this happening?
He
was the one who'd ruined this with his pubes.

“Bussing it?” I cried out. “Excuse me? It's like three in the morning.”

“Sorry,” he said looking guilty. “I didn't mean that. I just meant you don't have to stay if you don't want to.”

“I think it's probably best if I just stay and leave in the morning,” I said slowly. I knew I should probably get a cab home—especially as he was basically kicking me out—but I didn't really
want to pay for one and there was no way I was getting a night bus alone. As humiliating as it was, I was staying right there.

“Okay,” he said, turning the light off and getting into bed. I lay down next to him and he put an arm over me and squeezed my boobs. I was tempted to push him off me, but if we weren't going to shag, he may as well get to hold my 36Ds as a consolation prize.

When he started snoring gently, I eased his arm off me and searched frantically for my phone. I had to tell the girls what had happened. I opened WhatsApp.

•   •   •

Me:
He has a Boyzilian. As in, shaved and trimmed pubes in a thin line. His man garden is neater than mine.

Also. Oh God. He found loo roll in my vagina. With his tongue.

 

I sent the message to Emma and Lara, but neither answered. They were probably asleep. I closed my eyes and tried to do the same, but all I could think about were his manicured pubes and my filthy vagina. How,
how
had I managed to find the only man in London who had neater pubes than me?

It was so embarrassing. But, at the same time, I was kind of relieved we hadn't slept together. As much as I wanted to start having casual sex, I didn't want to be repulsed by the person I was shagging—if I wanted to orgasm with him, it was probably a good idea if I actually liked the guy. Not enough to crave a relationship and second date, but just to feel some kind of . . . connection.

Ben and I didn't have that. It wasn't even just the Boyzilian—he was also kind of dull. And weirdly pale. In a strange way, he reminded me of Jack the deflowerer. I shuddered.

No, this failed one-night stand was definitely a good thing. There was no point shagging someone I didn't like. I deserved better.

I woke up in a panic. I was lying in a bed with no bed sheets. I could feel the scratchy material of the mattress and duvet against my bare skin. Ohmigod—my bare skin. I pulled the duvet off me and looked down. I was totally naked. I scanned the bed for any other signs of life, but there was nobody next to me.

I felt something soggy stuck to my leg. I reached down and found the unused condom from last night attached to me. I yanked it off, flinging it across the room, and then lay back down in the bed with my eyes shut as everything flooded back. Ben. His Boyzilian. Loo roll. Hoxton. Pete biting my cheek. Oh God.

I needed to get the fuck out of there.

I tiptoed down the hallway in last night's black dress, with my jacket slung over my shoulder. The walls were covered in a peeling paint and the floorboards had nails poking out. I heard sounds in the kitchen and poked my head round. Ben was in there wearing tight white boxers. He had his back to me and I could see the
defined muscles in his arse. I felt a pang of lust and then remembered his man garden.

“Ben?” I called out. “I've got to, um, get home.”

He turned to face me, holding two mugs. Oh God. It was looking at me again. The skinny Boyzilian. In the cold light of day I could see how dark the hairs were against his milky-white skin. I felt like gagging. “What, already?” he said. “I was just bringing us tea. I remember your profile saying you loved Earl Grey.”

“Um, thanks,” I said, trying to avert my eyes from his Boyzilian. “But, honestly, I have to leave.”

“Oh, right.” He put the teas down, looking pissed off. “Guess I'll show you out then.”

“Cheers.”

We walked in silence to the front door. “So it's just down the stairs then you turn right to the nearest bus stop.”

“Cool, thanks,” I said. He looked straight into my eyes and leaned in to kiss me. I moved my head so his lips brushed against my cheek. I could smell last night's food on his breath. “Bye then!”

“I'll call you,” he cried out, as I raced down the stairs.

Who knew I'd ever be the kind of girl who had guys wanting to call her? In spite of everything, I felt a warm glow of pride. I'd turned down a guy. I hadn't exactly achieved my sex goal, but I'd made a sensible decision and now I had a not-hideous man chasing me. This was so
Sex and the City
.

•   •   •

“Fuck me harder,” moaned a male voice. I stood frozen outside the living room. It must be the TV. Was someone watching
Basic Instinct
? Or maybe a ten a.m. porno? I edged the door open and peered round.

“Is this hard enough for you, you filthy bastard?” said Will.

I screamed. Will was standing behind a guy, thrusting his penis into him. He was waving a black whip in the air. The guy was on all fours moaning loudly. They both turned to look at me.

“Ellie, get the fuck out of here,” shouted Will, as he carried on thrusting himself into his partner.
Why
was he continuing when I was right there?? I tried to leave, but found I was paralyzed to the spot. “What are you even doing here?” he asked. “You're meant to be on a one-night stand.”

“I left,” I said. “Why are you, um, shagging in the living room?”

“Sorry, we thought everyone was out,” said the guy on his knees. “I'm Raj, by the way.”

“I'm Ellie, nice to meet you,” I replied automatically. Raj moaned in response and I jolted back to life. I spun on my heels, running out of the room and slamming the door as I left.

“Ah,” I screamed, as I crashed into Ollie. “Oh God, sorry I didn't see you. I just . . . I walked in on . . .”

“Will and Raj? Don't worry, I did the same thing about five minutes ago.”

“What is wrong with them? Can't they just do it in Will's room?”

He shrugged. “I wish I knew. Tea?”

“Please.” I followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “I'm so shattered.”

“Same. I went out with the boys and it got pretty messy. I think I might still be drunk.”

I laughed. “I wish I was still drunk. I'm depressingly sober.”

“Did you just get home? What were you doing last night?”

“Oh, don't ask. I had another online date. I went back to his, and it didn't go so well.”

He put down the kettle and turned to look at me. “Yeah?”

“We didn't sleep together. I kind of . . . decided not to.”

“Why not? You stayed at his though, right?”

“Yeah, I just don't think I fancied him in the end. We were really close to doing it, but then I figured that I wanted more. You know? Like, he was fine. It would have been okay. But it just didn't feel right and, as much as I want to get laid, I want to enjoy it.”

“Hey, good on you,” he said, plonking a mug down in front of me. “I wish I'd thought like that when I was single.”

“You didn't?” I couldn't imagine Ollie ever sleeping with someone unattractive or regretting it. Surely he'd just shagged the hottest girls at uni?

“I dunno. I've had a few regrettable one-night stands, but I haven't really done the whole dating thing. I met Yomi pretty early, and, yeah.”

“You're lucky. Dating is shit.”

He laughed. “I don't know. Sounds like you're owning it. Turning down guys who are into you, and constantly lining up new dates.”

“You're making it sound a lot better than it feels,” I said, grinning at him. He may have had zero sleep but he still looked effortlessly hot. If Ben had looked like him, I definitely would have shagged him—Boyzilian or no Boyzilian.

“Hey, is that your phone?” he said.

I pulled my eyes away from his light stubble and picked up my phone. “Oh God. Please can this text not be from Ben. I really can't deal with that right now.”

•   •   •

Unknown number: Hey, sorry about the weirdness last night. Would love to take you for dinner to apologize. I think you're really cool, and I maybe have a bit of a crush on you . . . Pete.

I burst out laughing. “No way.”

“Who is it?” asked Ollie. “Is it Ben?”

“Um, so I kind of left out a bit of my story of last night . . . I went back to the bar I went to with JT. And the same barman was there. We had a weird moment where I think he bit me? And now he wants to take me for dinner ‘to apologize.'”

Ollie shook his head laughing. “See? You've got all the guys.”

“I do not,” I said.

But he had a point. Pete was the second guy in less than twenty-four hours who wanted me. I mean, I wasn't sure if I fancied him, and I was still weirded out by the
Twilight
moment, but it did feel good.

“So are you going to say yes?”

“Huh. I really don't know. I mean, he's attractive, and he's pretty cool. I think he'd be a really fun date. But . . .”

“He has vampire tendencies?”

“Well, yeah. But, also, I'm not sure I'm feeling it. I mean, there are like shitloads of men online. I don't really have to say yes to Pete just because he ticks a few boxes. I can probably find someone better online. I don't want to settle, you know?”

“I do,” he said, staring at me. Why didn't guys who look like Ollie ask me out? “So what are you going to say to him?”

“Oh God. I've never written a rejection text before. Can't I just ignore him?”

“What and miss out on your first ever rejection text? No way. And do you know how it feels to be the guy and not get a response? It's shit.”

“What, like that's ever happened to you?” I scoffed.

“Yeah, of course it has. I'm a guy. I ask out girls. Sometimes they don't respond. And I always wish they'd have the courtesy to actually say no instead of leaving me to wonder if they've lost their phone or whatever.”

“Wait, you actually think that? I thought that was a girl thing.”

“Nope. Boys get it too. So, do me a favor and let this guy down properly.”

I laughed. “Okay. How about . . . this?” I typed out a response and showed it to Ollie.

•   •   •

Hey, Pete, thanks, but I don't really feel the same way . . . Sorry. And maybe next time, don't bite the girl you fancy.

“
Ouch. I'm starting to feel pretty sorry for this Pete.” Ollie grinned. “I'd hate to get turned down by you Ellie.”

“Well, you know . . .” I laughed awkwardly. Little did Ollie know there was no way in hell I would ever reject him. Even if he bit me and had a Boyzilian.