I ARRIVE AT FRANK’S BRIXTON Victorian mansion just after eight o’clock. It’s a large imposing house right on the corner of a busy street with a skate park sitting kitty-corner from the lot.
Brixton is a diverse neighbourhood that was labelled “up and coming” quite some years ago. It definitely has a similar eclectic, artistic vibe as Shoreditch. A crew of young skater-types begin catcalling as I hop out of the cab.
“Oi, you tossers. Go shag yourselves and get a bloody life!” Frank bellows, stepping out of the purple front door that’s framed in crawling ivy. He’s dressed in red trousers with a black strip down each leg and a red dress shirt with a denim bow tie firmly in place.
“Vi, my dear girl. Fuck me sideways, you look like a proper lady of the night.” He bounds down the steps to greet me, his eyes scrolling down my body appreciatively. “Designer, too, I can tell. Cheeky girl.”
I’m wearing a two-piece, red, Valentino dress that reveals a couple inches of bare midriff. It has a scoop neckline and three-quarter sleeves. The skirt sits just below my knees, but the entire ensemble fits like a second skin. It’s very Victoria Beckham posh. Paired with my black Monolo Blahniks, I feel like a proper footballer’s wife to be sure. I’m not ashamed to say I put forth a bit more effort tonight. After hearing nothing from Hayden for the past few days, I knew I was in need of a proper night on the town to help move on.
“Thanks, Frank. A lady of the night is just the look I was going for,” I reply sardonically.
“Get in here before those man-boys descend. You’re the last one we were waiting on.” He puts his slender arm around my shoulders and guides me up the front steps. A lascivious grin spreads across his face. “I hope you’re ready to get your knickers wet.”
“Am I what?” I ask. Before he can explain, I’m thrust into a full swing party.
Music booms loudly as Frank guides me through the large foyer and into the enormous formal dining room on the right. The large table is covered in a red sheet. Before I have a chance to inquire about it, Finley and Leslie both cheer loudly as they waltz out of the attached kitchen.
Leslie leaps toward me first. “Vilma, you’re here! All my favourite London Lovers!” she sings merrily, throwing her arms around me and Finley, hugging us to her sides.
I turn my head to fully appreciate Leslie’s dress. It’s a red tutu skirt with sheer polka dots layered on top. The bodice is black and strapless with a high fashion, asymmetrical, red, feather sprout on one side. Her long auburn hair is pulled back into a high, bouncy ponytail, and her makeup looks stunning if not a bit pissed.
“You’re just in time,” Finley giggles, tugging up her strapless mini, red dress and sipping her drink.
Frank reappears beside me with a red cocktail in a martini glass. “Drink up! You’re three behind these lushes.”
He ushers me away from Leslie’s grasp just as I take a sip and says, “Okay, introductions. You know the Lezbo. The bitch can’t hold her booze since my beautiful goddaughter was born. Then we’ve got smartarse Fin Bin, who lives here with her sex monster of a husband. And there’s Jiggly Jules, who also lives here.”
“What makes me jiggly?” Julie asks, narrowing her Asian eyes at Frank. It’s a good question because she is petite by any standards, and dressed in a red miniskirt and red tank, there’s not much I can see jiggling on her.
Before Frank replies, a Prince song kicks on. Julie screams and runs into the living room to dance, dragging Finley and Leslie with her.
“See what I mean?” Frank asks, circling his finger by his temple. “I’d avoid her if I were you. Her boyfriend, Mitch, moved out last week and she’s a ticking time bomb, that one. You remember Oxford,” he says, gesturing to Reyna, who’s striding over from the other side of the table. “You can call her Rey or Bitch Face. She answers to both. I’ve checked.”
“Rey works,” she replies flatly, glaring at Frank and then smiles sincerely at me. She looks fierce in a pair of red leather pants and a red sleeveless tee, revealing her extensively inked arms. Her dark hair is loose and wild down her back, making me feel slightly overdressed as I smooth my low ponytail.
I eye Rey curiously as I consider what kind of relationship Hayden had with her, but then internally kick myself for even thinking about him again.
“And I am Ameerah, child,” a large dark-skinned woman peels as she strolls into the dining room from the kitchen. She’s wearing a head wrap and holding a cocktail, looking perfectly at ease with herself in a red and white print moo moo.
“Ame brings the cocks,” Frank crows.
“The what?” I nearly choke on my drink.
“Let us begin, Frank,” Ameerah says in a thick Caribbean accent.
Frank releases me to gather everyone around the table and props us in our assigned chairs. Ameerah makes a grand gesture of pulling back the red cloth to reveal a table full of…
Cocks.
Loads and loads of scary-looking cocks.
Bugger, that one has three heads.
“A new hot dog!” Leslie crows. “Frank, you shouldn’t have!”
I look around confused as Ameerah begins her speech. Apparently she owns a sex toy boutique in Brixton and I have found myself smack dab in the middle of a sex toy hen party.
“I’m definitely going to need one of these.” Julie hiccups in my ear and grabs a pink thing in front of me. It’s shaped like the letter C, and I’m not even sure how it would work. “Since I’m newly single and all.”
“Brody would go gaga for these, Finny!” Leslie laughs and chucks a sack of cock rings at her.
“Um, these are to make the guy last longer, and Brody has zero problem there, thanks.” Finley tosses them over to me.
I eye the toys nervously as Ameerah begins describing the uses for each item. I wouldn’t say I’m sexually prude, but I definitely don’t have a drawer of sex toys. I’ve only had two partners, and neither of them seemed too keen on experimenting with BOBs. And I certainly don’t need anything to help pleasure myself.
“See anything you like, Vi?” Frank asks from the other side of me.
I grab a small garment box with a pair of hot pink lace knickers sitting inside.
“That’s French silk,” Ameerah purrs, sauntering over to me. “I own a fabric store next to my husband’s sex store. I commission all the lingerie from a designer I know.”
“And it’s not me!” Leslie whines. “I don’t have time to sew anything anymore. I had to buy my own wedding dress for Pete’s sake.”
I smile fondly at Leslie. She always did have a great eye for technique. It’s a big reason why she did all the China trips before she had Marisa. I’m better at digital design, but I’m becoming more well-rounded in her absence.
“Your dress is beautiful, Lez,” Finley rebuffs and rubs Leslie’s arms affectionately.
“I know, but it’s not an original.” Suddenly, her eyes alight with a renewed sense of purpose. “However! I might have some time to do some tweaking to it now that Jaci’s on the scene! That’s Jaci…no K!”
I try to school my features to look surprised as Leslie tells the group about Jaci being her new wedding coordinator. Apparently she tackled nine things off the list while Leslie got her hair done today.
“Guys, I think I might have a lady boner for Jaci. She’s scary and reminds me a bit of that mean British chef, Gordon Ramsey, but it’s kind of a turn-on! Maybe I should get her a present.” She giggles and begins riffling through the products.
I’m relieved to see Leslie embracing the coordinator. That’s exactly what I wanted her to do. However, if she knew it was me who paid for Jaci’s assistance, she most certainly would refuse the help. But when I turned twenty-one, I received a large trust from my dad. I have never done a lot with the money except purchase the lease on my flat, so it felt good to spend it this way.
I knock back a couple more cocktails and relish in the fact that none of these women are like the women I went to school with. Perhaps it’s because most of them are happily coupled off? Or perhaps it’s because they don’t have a clue or care in the world about who my family is, which is usually the deal-breaker for me and my new girlfriends. Regardless, this group feels so down-to-earth and completely unaffected by trivial London society troubles. It’s refreshing.
The night takes a wicked turn when Leslie disappears into the bathroom to try some warming lube on her wobbly bits. I’ve never laughed as hard as when she waltzed out in her beautiful dress like she had just stepped off a horse. You’d think that would scare everyone away, but Finley ran in to try the same product!
These girls are so pleasantly original.
In the end, I don’t buy any freaky sex toys, but I do purchase several of the sexy lingerie pieces. I have a little thing for sexy underwear ever since I moved out of my dad’s house. I think I was always too scared to buy it before, fearing that my brothers might see it in the laundry and go ballistic. Now I have a proper collection of filmy goodies that make me feel girlie and sexy when I go to bed every night.
“The cabs are here!” Frank roars. “To Club Shay we go!”
We hustle into a couple of black cabs and buzz through the intoxicating city lights of London all the while musing over the last time I was at Club Shay. I haven’t been back since before Leslie and Theo became a couple. Leslie was in the middle of some sort of insane love cleanse that Frank had put together for her. The night we were all there, she was challenged by Frank to do a girl kiss, and she ended up shocking all of us when she smacked Finley right on the lips. It was a right proper snog, too, which Theo was there to bear witness to.
I laugh at the fact that all of that was part of their unconventional love story. Now they are getting married soon with their own beautiful daughter as their flower girl. Will I ever find anyone who loves me enough to chase me through an entire love cleanse? Or am I destined to only be a motherly figure to my brothers for the rest of their lives?
“Why so glum?” Julie asks, sitting directly across from me and watching me through hooded eyes. She’s possibly the drunkest of everyone here. I’m actually a bit worried for her.
I shrug my shoulders and smile. “I’m just really happy for Leslie. She’s really got it all, you know?”
“It’s not that easy for all of us,” she drawls menacingly and stares out the window. “No sense getting your hopes up to find something similar because, just when you think you have your happily ever after sorted, you get the rug ripped straight out from under you. You think you know someone? You don’t. You never really do.” She sighs heavily and her eyes narrow further. “I’m just looking for a bloke to shag tonight. Someone to wet my whistle and walk away from. That’s. It.”
My brows lift as Julie speaks to the voice in my head that’s trying its hardest to shout at me to stop obsessing over Hayden and wanting to turn him into something more. He pulled back because he’s not interested, and I know I’d do right to avoid him full stop from now on. Tonight isn’t about men anyway. It’s about having fun with some friends.
When we pull up to Club Shay, I’m feeling on top of the world and ready to make tonight about me and nobody else. I’m not as pissed as the rest of the party, but I’m feeling relaxed and ready for anything.
Anything but a dizzyingly sexy Hayden Clarke standing at the entrance of the club.