Chapter Fourteen
Dee’s Sunday…
At the time of Amber still slumbering in her puke-whiffy bed, Dee had set about making Josh a top-notch Sunday morning breakfast.
There was an old saying Dee’s mum had sworn by. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Dee had decided to put it to the test. She’d made Josh the full works. Egg, bacon, sausage, beans, fried tomatoes, mushrooms and giant slabs of toast smothered in real butter, not margarine.
‘Brekkie, darling,’ she trilled as she set his plate down on the breakfast bar.
Josh came into the kitchen, pulled out a tall stool, and stared at the heaped plate in disdain. ‘I can’t eat all this.’
‘Oh.’ Dee was visibly crestfallen.
‘I’m still full from last night’s meal with Roger Brown.’
Dee resisted the temptation to ask why Josh’s female dinner companion had a man’s name and innocently said, ‘Poor Josh. It must have been a huge steak.’
‘Yes, it was.’
Dee busied herself loading up her own plate, all the while appearing cheerful and upbeat, even though her brain was whirling. She’d given Josh the perfect opportunity to correct himself and say, ‘Steak? What am I talking about! I took Roger Brown to Serafino’s Cucina in Sevenoaks. I had a bowl of spaghetti. It was the size of a coffee table. I don’t think I’ll want anything to eat until next week. And by the way, Roger is a transvestite. He always wears a dress and full make-up on a Saturday night. He completely fooled the head waiter.’ But Josh said nothing. Instead he picked up his knife and fork and began toying with a sausage.
‘Nice?’ Dee asked. She sat down opposite, her own plate before her.
‘S’okay,’ Josh shrugged.
‘Excellent!’ Her tone was jolly, belying any anxiety. ‘I do love a bit of sausage,’ she chirruped. Dee hadn’t meant for her banter to sound smutty, but it had.
Josh put down his knife and fork, and regarded her coolly. ‘Are you being sarcastic because we haven’t had sex recently?’
Dee’s eyes widened. ‘No. I’m simply saying I like a nice big sausage.’ Oh heck. Josh would think she was winding him up. ‘And…and egg,’ she added. She speared a virgin yolk which oozed over a sausage. ‘Mmmm,’ she said, sounding like she was orgasming.
‘Okay, I get it,’ said Josh, looking peeved. ‘You’re definitely being facetious about the lack of sex.’
Dee continued to smile, but her mouth was suddenly very dry. She ran her tongue across her lips. ‘No, Josh, I’m not. Really.’
‘Then what’s with all the oohing and aahing and lip licking? I presume you’re dropping hints.’
Dee put down her own knife and fork. ‘Would it be so bad if I was dropping hints?’
‘I knew it,’ Josh crowed. ‘You want sex.’
‘Is that an invitation?’
‘No.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘I’m not up for it.’
‘And what about Willy? Do you think Willy might be up for it if I smear egg yolk all over him and lick it off?’
Josh regarded Dee as if she’d spoken in tongues. ‘Are you feeling all right?’
‘Never better. You?’ Now the subject of sex had come up she was determined to pursue the subject to the bitter end.
‘I’m tired,’ Josh snapped.
‘At eleven o’clock in the morning?’
‘I have a very physical job,’ Josh countered.
‘Then perhaps you need to go back to bed. With me,’ Dee added seductively. ‘I’ll massage all the kinks out of you and,’ she waggled her eyebrows, ‘kiss your tired bits better.’
‘I’d like to relax, thanks. Not embark on a sexual marathon.’
‘I’m not asking for one. I’m suggesting we have sex. You can lay back and think of England while I climb on board. In fact, forget the bedroom. Let’s do it in the kitchen!’ She whipped off her sweatshirt revealing a jacked-up bosom. Dee was a busty girl and proud of her assets. When she’d first got together with Josh, he’d joyfully caressed her breasts and called them “Dee’s Delights”. Well now they could work their magic on her boyfriend all over again. She leant back on the tall stool, thrusting out her “delights” for Josh to admire. ‘You’d better tell the soldier in your trousers to start standing to attention,’ she purred.
‘Dee, I said I don’t want a sexual mara–’
‘I’ll do all the work,’ she said dismissively, and began shaking her shoulders so her breasts jiggled in their lacy hammock. ‘All you have to do,’ she said, her voice breathy as she tangled her fingers in her hair and parted her lips wantonly, ‘is sit there, you…you hunky..,’ she tried to quickly think of something sexy to call Josh, but the lie he’d told invaded her brain, ‘…steak.’ Bugger. She ploughed on. ‘I want to jump off this stool, leap on your lap and grind like…,’ oh God, like what? She was so badly out of practice. ‘…like a salt mill all over your pepper pot and–’
‘Dee, I really think you should put your top back on and–’
‘Ooooooooh,’ Dee gasped, sounding like the soundtrack to a porn movie. She unhooked her bra and released her boobs. They bounced forth in fulsome glory, until gravity took over. Josh watched, unmoved, as her breasts landed with a faint squelch on her plate.
Dee decided to style it out, and gave a naughty giggle. ‘Bet you weren’t expecting bosoms with your bacon, eh?’ She shoved her hands into her breakfast and began smearing brown sauce and egg yolk across her nipples. ‘Ahhhhh,’ she gasped, shuddering with apparent pleasure. ‘Get your tongue out, babe,’ she panted, ‘and start licking this lot off.’
Josh jumped off his stool. But instead of roaring towards her in a blaze of hot breath and bulging trousers, he headed toward the kitchen door. Dee’s gung-ho shrivelled and died.
‘W-where are you going?’ she asked in a panicky voice.
‘Out,’ snapped Josh.’
‘B-but why? Please, stay. Let’s have some fun.’
‘Fun?’ Josh barked. ‘Look at you, Dee. Are you deranged? And since when did “hunky steak” become a term of endearment? What the hell’s got into you?’
‘Not you, that’s for sure,’ Dee shouted. She felt completely humiliated, but also angry. Josh had made her feel smaller than the condiments on the breakfast bar. Only the other day he had told her she was boring and unimaginative in bed. Here she was, pulling out all the stops and making Nigella Lawson look like Theresa May in a soup kitchen, but Josh wasn’t having any of it. ‘What’s wrong with initiating sex with my boyfriend?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘I can’t remember the last time you made love to me.’ Tears threatened. She tried to blink them back into their tear ducts. She knew Josh wasn’t swayed by blubbing. But the more she tried to stop it from happening, the harder it became. A small river seemed to be rushing down her face, dripping off her chin, and splashing across her food-covered breasts. Her nose was filling up with snot and threatening to dribble. When she spoke, her voice was choked with emotion. ‘Don’t you f-fancy me anymore?’
There. She’d asked the question. It was out. She’d meant to spend today taking a softly-softly approach with Josh, gently cajoling him to get to the bottom of what was wrong between them. But now, after weeks of wondering, she’d ended up throwing a very dangerous question at him. It hung in the air like an unexploded hand grenade, and from the expression on Josh’s face he was contemplating whether to pull out the pin. Dee didn’t have long to wait.
‘No, Dee,’ Josh murmured. ‘I don’t fancy you anymore.’
And Dee felt the explosion of his answer boom through her heart, ripping it into a million tiny pieces.