Dog Handling (23 page)

She had had sex with Ben Parker. She had died and gone to heaven. She was now a whole woman. Complete, fulfilled, extended, delighted, and satisfied by the man of her dreams. The only hitch being she couldn’t remember a moment of it. Not a kiss. Not a lick. Or a squeal or a groan. Nothing. Nada. Rien. Naff All. She had somehow managed to have sex with him and completely forget it. How could that be? Then she remembered the Cocksucking Cowboys. Of course. She could have cried—she had clearly been a miserable, philandering good-for-nothing male in a previous life to warrant this sort of bad luck right now.

Then just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse she remembered dog handling. She’d slept with Ben Parker. She’d totally and utterly messed up her plans. How could one person be so breathtakingly stupid? There was now absolutely no way that she would ever get him in the sack again. He was as good as gone. In fact, if she closed her eyes and opened them again in six seconds he would probably take the opportunity to sneak out of her life and vanish. She had given away the goods. She was the cheap floozy. The scarlet other woman. She took a deep breath and wondered what the correct position to assume was when you were about to be kicked to the kerb. Maybe head between knees like aeroplane crash landings. Certainly she wanted to avoid eye contact when he did it. She decided to go and take a shower to give him a chance to leave without having to endure the whole embarrassing thing about letting her down gently. She peeled her sheets back as slowly and quietly as possible and made her way to the bathroom.

Once the shower was pelting hot against her skin and torrents of water were vanishing down the plughole along with leaves and twigs and soapsuds her mind began to clear just a little bit. Fragments came to her. Dave and James waving down from their float. Lots of men in thongs. Ben locking the door of the loo and kissing her. But that was it. There was a moment when she’d shed her clothes, that much she knew, and judging by the small forest blocking up her drain she’d had something to do with a tree. But the recollection of the untold bliss stubbornly refused to show its face. Maybe someone had seen her, she suddenly thought. Maybe she could place an ad in the newspaper and ask anyone who had to come forward and jog her memory with vivid descriptions. Or maybe they’d only had sex when they arrived back at her house. Perhaps Alex had seen or heard something. She’d ask her later. As she squeezed too much shower gel into her palms she offered up another prayer to God. Please, if I never ever imbibe vile alcohol again, will you let me remember The Bliss of last night? Just so I can rewind the memory and live it again in low, cat-feedingly lonely moments for the rest of my life.

As she was contemplating her future as a spinster with cats, not men, she heard some creaking and footsteps in the other room. He was getting up and grovelling about for his shoes, no doubt. Which he wouldn’t put on until he was out the door in order not to be heard so he could make his getaway without being disturbed. She heard a low cough and a bit more creaking. In order to block out the scene she soaped her hair up into a foaming Mohican and began to whistle to herself. Soon he’d be gone and she could crawl around the cottage on her knees in misery, cursing her life and luck and parentage, which hadn’t made her Amelia, and sobbing at the thought of what could have been. But right now she was focusing with all the intensity of a certified whacko on the tune to “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”

“Liv, listen, I think I have to go, but I just wanted to say thanks so much. I had great fun and—”

“Arggghhh.” Ben was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Liv pulled the shower curtain round her. Futile, perhaps, after she’d bared her breasts to him last night, but she didn’t really remember that and well . . . she was shy. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry. Here, do you want this?” He passed her a towel, which she dived behind gratefully. “I just popped in to say thanks. I had fun and well—”

“Well, you’re in love with your girlfriend. Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be?
I
practically fancy her and I’m totally off blondes at the moment.” Ben looked at Liv as though she had shampoo for brains. “I’m off blondes because my ex was a blond. It’s a reaction thing. Well, I’ll be seeing you around then.” Liv clambered from the shower still covered in soapsuds and a wilting Mohican.

“Bye then.” Ben’s shirt was still unbuttoned and he hadn’t got around to putting on his socks yet. He had clearly not got his quick getaway down to a fine art.

“Yeah, bye,” Liv said breezily.

But instead of turning on his heels and being grateful for being let off for his caddish laddish baddish behaviour, Ben was shifting his weight from foot to foot, smiling, and looking a bit awkwardly at Liv. “Bye,” he said.

“See ya.” Liv shrugged. Go on. Out, out, damned boy. And then he leaned in to kiss her. She shoved her cheeks at him in a dinner party greeting way. But he was going for her lips. Honestly, the things men feel compelled to do out of guilt, Liv thought. Then, when he put his hands around her waist and began to search out her tongue with his she thought that rather than guilt this was simply a case of blatant opportunism. Here she was looking for all her life like a packet of Just Add Water and Shag and he was a boy. What else had she thought might happen?

“God, you’re even more lovely in the daylight.” He moaned gently as he eased his shirt from his shoulders.

Beautiful in daylight was a barefaced lie. Well, at least she knew where she stood. Scarlet Other Woman that she was and since she’d missed out on last night’s festivities and activities and she had already signed away her right to be treated well by having sex with him once, she might as well just tuck in now. He was never going to call again, so in for a penny, eh? “Hmmm, that’s nice,” she threw out as a sign of consent, and helped him with his belt buckle.

He dipped kisses over her neck and along her shoulder. This felt so good. She closed her eyes and felt his lips. She ran her hand down his back and traced lines on his smooth, firm buttocks. God, she felt as though she’d been Sleeping Beauty for the last five years and had just woken up to smell the coffee and taste the toast and honey, or something. This was what it was all about. This was the kind of lust that made grown women weep and men leave families and lives behind. Quite simply, it was the best.

“That was lovely, thanks,” Liv said instead of letting him in on the secrets of her epiphany.

“Are you sure?” He brushed her hair back from his face and she could see tiny beads of sweat glistening on his top lip.

“Positive,” she whispered as he carried on kissing her.

“Good.” He began to push himself against her. All over again.

And an hour later, long after he was meant to have done the kerb kicking, Ben was sitting on the edge of her bed as he handed her a can of Tizer. She took a sip and, though she hated Tizer, it suddenly felt like the sexiest, most elixirish drink in the world.

“We could have lunch on Monday. Please. You can’t turn me down again,” Ben said.

“I’d love to. You have my number, right?” said Liv, abandoning all pretence of unavailability. Actually, she had a meeting with her suppliers in the garment district, but what the hell.

“Great,” Ben said. “Now gorgeous as this is and much as I’d love to sit here all day and bask in the sun and have you by my side, I really have to go. But I’ll call you. We’ll go somewhere lovely. Maybe a picnic?”

“Sounds great. I know this place called Parsley Bay. We could swim and I’ll make some Scotch eggs or something.” She laughed.

“I’ll bring jam tarts and squashed sandwiches and flat lemonade and we’re away.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Liv said as she leaned over and kissed him good-bye one more time. “Oh, and I know this is not exactly a romantic thing to ask, but did we have safe sex last night? I mean I know you were careful just now, but we were pretty fucked up last night and I just wondered whether—”

“Last night?”

“Please say yes or I’ll have to slap myself
so
hard on the wrists.”

“We didn’t have sex last night, Liv. Jeez, do you think I’d have taken advantage of you in that state? I mean I would have loved to, don’t get me wrong, but call me old-fashioned—I just brought you home to bed.”

“Oh,” Liv said. “Okay, fine. Thanks. That was . . . sweet. See you tomorrow then.”

Liv fell back to sleep again for another hour or so and woke up to Alex doing squat thrusts on her rug. She turned her head and groaned in pain. Clearly she’d still been pretty plastered when Ben was here. Now she was beginning to feel the ill effects of so much unprecedented immorality. “Well, now I know that It Girls are born and not made,” Liv growled at Alex in her newfound sexy voice, which had just appeared from nowhere. Actually, her voice was the only good thing about her right now and she was tempted to leave messages on the machines of everybody she’d ever met just so they’d hear how gravelly and seductive she was. Because it wasn’t going to last. The reason being that Liv wasn’t going to last. Ugh, this was awful. She thought perhaps she had about six hours to live. Six hours’ countdown before the knocking in her head exploded into an ugly mass of self-loathing. Lots of stuff would come out of her ears. Mostly brain but perhaps a few internal organs, too, as they did feel as though they were swimming part of a triathlon in her bloodstream.

“I’ve just had some homemade muesli and freshly squeezed orange juice. And the body-sculpt class is really making my arms firm. Squeeze,” Alex taunted mercilessly as she sat on the end of Liv’s bed and displayed a golden, toned arm. In just jeans and a T-shirt she’d come round to take Liv for lunch in Bondi.

“Too bloody perfect. Leave the room.” Liv reached for a towel, which she wrapped around her face. “So you were out, right? You just got back?” Liv wondered if Alex had run into Ben, but no, she’d have said so. Liv saved it up to tell her later. Right now she didn’t quite have the energy.

“You see, if you’d experimented with clubbing and dancing as a teenager like people are meant to, you wouldn’t be in nearly so much pain. Your body’s too old and broken down to deal with the onslaught,” Alex said as she flipped through the Sunday newspapers.

“This is why people hate Cliff Richard. Being good is not attractive. Why don’t you go and have lunch with another saint and leave me to explode in peace?” a muffled Liv said from beneath the towel.

“You’re kidding. I’ve got a table booked at Ravesi’s for twelve-thirty. Shrimp ravioli’s just what the doctor ordered.”

“Get out of my life. I just hope your day of decadence in the Hunter Valley and subsequent evening in was worth me getting into this state. Because it is your fault. You should have been there to protect me,” Liv whinged, fully expecting Alex to jump up and down on the bed and make her cry mercy, but she didn’t. Liv lifted the towel to see if Alex was still there. She was, but she was looking very sheepish. If Liv had a brain she might have wondered why Alex was being so sympathetic instead of reminding Liv of the balance of pity that should be wasted on hungover Liv versus refugees in war-torn countries.

“Yeah, sorry, Livvy. Anyway, how about I run you a bath with some ginger and a pint of milk in it? It always works wonders with my hangovers. Also, you should stand on your head till it’s done.” And she vanished into the kitchen.

As Alex munched her way through the shrimp ravioli and ginger crème brûlée Liv realised that though it seemed to have been at least seven years since Alex had bounded into her room this morning she still hadn’t managed to tell her that she’d had sex with Ben this morning. She thought maybe she’d wait until she’d had some coffee so that she could sustain a conversation that required more than three syllables. But Alex had clearly taken more vitamins than Liv that morning and was a little sharper.

“You are looking really well,” Alex said as she scooped the froth off her cappuccino. “I mean apart from looking shit—well, you know what I mean—you’re kind of shining in spite of yourself. Is there something I should know about?”

“Are you completely mad, Alex? The waiter keeps trying to clear me away with the dirty napkins. I look rubbish.” Liv dribbled some more Tabasco into her drink and then choked to death loudly.

“No, you’ve got it together. Dishabillé. Natural, relaxed, beautiful. Sydney’s agreeing with you. Or if Sydney isn’t then something is,” Alex said matter-of-factly.

“Have you got a guilty secret? Did you break my favourite bottle of perfume or something this morning and are working up to telling me?” Liv squinted.

“I was wondering the same about you,” Alex said, peering at Liv over her spoon.

“I’m a grown-up now. I don’t have guilty secrets,” replied Liv, trying for the enigmatic response till she got her strength up.

“Last night?” grilled Alex.

“Last night was only a bit guilty and definitely not secret. I was just waiting for a caffeine hit before I told you.” Liv wrote out a check for her three Bloody Marys and put it next to Alex’s, or rather Charlie’s, platinum Amex card.

“Tell me now.” Alex grinned in anticipation.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I went to the party and Ben and Amelia were there and he followed me into the loo and—”

“Don’t tell me you had sex in the loo. That’s so rank.” Alex screwed up her face.

“He took me outside. We hung around by this frangipani tree and I was too fucked up to know what I was doing, but anyway, when I was in the shower this morning he came in and I swear to god he is the best, most incredible lover in the whole world.” Liv sank back into her chair and grinned goofily.

“Well, I’ll take your word for that, but, Liv, that’s so . . . that’s fantastic. I told you, didn’t I?” Alex said. “So what now?”

“Well, you know me—I need to be whacked over the head with a piece of wood before I really believe someone likes me—but I really think that this could be something. I mean at first I thought he was just making the most of having a naked girl in the bathroom before he’d had chance to get dressed properly, but well, I don’t know. We had such a great time. You can’t fake chemistry like that, can you?” Liv said with more emotion than was advisable given her current poor health. “We’re having lunch tomorrow. I guess we’ll talk about it all then.” She sank back and smiled at the thought.