Androshorts: A Friend with Benefits

I hated the concept of 'friends with benefits' – not the movie of course, that was a delight and still a favourite Rom-Com of mine, there's a copy on my shelf as I write this.

No, I had a problem with the concept of the 'Fuck buddy', the casual screw that you could call upon when necessary and I really thought that sort of thing was just the tiniest bit... well... trashy. Perhaps it was the 'casual' aspect I didn't like, perhaps I just wanted to be in love with my lover?

Until I met Stuart.

Now this is the weird thing, I honestly never set out to have a male roomie to share my two bedroom flat with let alone an attractive, clever, single hot male – HONESTLY.

Originally I shared with an old college friend of mine, Sharon. We both studied at the same college then when we studied at University, after our Freshers year in Halls we ended up living in the same shared house with another three nursing students, two geographers and a criminologist. It worked well.

All girls together, we split the rent and the chores, built up massive debts and partied our rather attractive arses for the best part of two wonderful, life changing and affirming years, all of us. Sharon was my bestie, and the thing you learned about her pretty quick was that she worked hard and played hard; now I'm not saying she was a tart, my grandmother would have and probably my mother would have. Chances are even her mother would have but not me. She was, perhaps a bit too casual for me.

Sharon rarely bought drinks, but she danced a lot, kissed a lot of guys, got bought loads of drinks and looked sexier than the rest of the house put together. Her skirts and dresses were short but never too short, although I do remember one nightclub bouncer asking if she kept the tiny hem in place through mind control.

She slept with a few of the drink buyers, insisting that she was every bit of a 'love 'em and leave 'em' person as her one night stands were. We all graduated and settled down to our chosen professions with Sharon and I getting a nice two bed flat in reasonable distance from the hospital we worked at.

Having had the bedroom next to hers for two years at Uni then four years flat sharing I could tell that she enjoyed sex.

She was loud, obvious and not afraid to tell her lover what she wanted from them, loudly, and then willing to complain if she didn't get it. She would kick them out afterwards or the next morning if they were better than average, but without so much as 'a thank you for shagging me' let alone exchanging phone numbers.

So after eight years and one nursing degree later, no one was more surprised than me when she had the same guy stay over for almost to two weeks. For Sharon this was totally unheard of, practically a marriage proposal and within three months he was resident in our flat and I wasn't even consulted.

But Stuart was a nice bloke, did a regular job Monday to Friday and never seemed bothered by Sharon and my shift patterns at the hospital we both worked in. I was a theatre nurse specialist while she specialised in paediatrics and some weeks we saw each other most days while others we would need to check each other's laundry baskets to see what clothes we were wearing to give us clue. No texting or phoning as you never knew if you would be waking up your roomie.

Stuart was an Environmental Health Officer for our local council that she met at a public health conference. I soon learned after their second night in bed together that he was a good lover, at least he did what Sharon liked as she never complained and her growls, giggles and cries all sounded that she was impressed with what he was doing, sometimes twice a night.

In the meantime I was still looking for Mr Right, and as my group of mates got nursing jobs up and down the country, started working shifts, or settled down our Friday nights' out kind of petered out and eventually I was searching through on-line options but with all the dates I went on, it became obvious why many of the blokes were single; some were strange, some weird and some economical with the truth if not outright liars, while some were just arseholes.

The first wanted to sleep with me then see how we got on, the second was terrified of his own shadow while the third had told me about him being in control of his small/medium business and how tough it was being staff and being the manager. He offered me a lift in his van. OK, he was a hard working bloke and I admired him for that but his small business was as a roofer while he'd made it sound like he was in charge of a multi-national.

We went on a second date and he told me he'd just had to pay his tax bill. A hair's breadth later and he started to rip into the 'public sector' and how easy our lives were with our above inflation pay rises, early retirement and guaranteed vast pensions that would see us all retire with huge lump sums at 37.

I pointed out that I hadn't had a pay rise in six years while costs had rocketed and unlike him I never had the opportunity to do work off of the books or claim back VAT. It wasn't like the chief surgeon was going to ask me to work a Saturday morning cash in hand after all.

He got extremely defensive and insisted that he never did that kind of thing and hated how we people that had it so easy always went on about how small businesses dodged tax.

We had a very quiet meal and this time he didn't offer me a lift in his van, so I got the bus home.

We didn't go an a second date.

Sharon and Stuart sounded like they were getting on well, most nights at least, and I got used to sharing the flat with them both.

After Sharon had him move in we split the rent three ways which was cheaper all round and I was happy enough. When she was on nights or lates Stuart was pleasant company and I could have sensible conversations with him that didn't involve sex or men or the short comings in both.

He had been renting a flat as well and was happy with cheaper living with his girlfriend and for a while they were all over each other. We had our own food cupboards seeing as Sharon was so picky about what she ate, we did our own laundry and there was a large TV in the sitting room plus one in each bedroom, excellent WiFi and Stu had Netflix so all was good.

I did miss not being able to walk around the flat naked or virtually so, but the extra cash meant that my standard of living had improved enough to make up for that. The bathroom rota had always been a bit hit and miss because of my and Sharon's shifts and I confess that on some mornings he would see me in just a towel and I would see him, no embarrassment, no problem. Just a nod and a smiled 'good morning' as we looked each other up and down for a brief second without it looking like we were and Stuart's broad chest was well worth the look.

All was going well until the July of that year when Sharon announced that she had decided to take our NHS trust up on an offer to become a midwife which would involve her moving a whole city away to train and she would stay over three or four nights and come back for weekends.

I wasn't impressed or convinced; she promised to continue to pay her share of the rent but this was my mate Sharon. She was about to become a bloody student again and would be getting pissed every Thursday and would end up shagging someone she fancied.

But that was none of my business and not something I was going to discuss with her or her boyfriend.

It lasted for 9 whole weeks until she flushed it down the toilet. I may sound disappointed but it was actually five weeks longer than I gave it originally. Sharon was back in a university town with thousands of students and everything was laid on, including her.

Meeeoow!

I can hear you complain about my bitchiness from here but she was a fucking grown up with a serious boyfriend of four months that had given up his flat to move in with her, well us actually, and now she had decided that she didn't want to be in a relationship and much preferred her new city and new life to the old one.

She didn't even have the bottle to tell Stuart face to face – choosing instead to rent a small van, drive back while we were both at work, take all of her stuff, leave a cheque for almost two months rent – she kept back her part of the deposit – and that was that. There was a note for Stuart but I never saw it.

She sent me a text message explaining what was going on and being very chatty and funny about the whole thing and saying that she loved me and would see me real soon with hearts and smiley faces.

As for me, I was pissed that my rent had increased by a half, my roomie of at least six years had fucked off without so much as a 'kiss my arse' leaving me to share a flat with her now ex-boyfriend. I texted her back and told her so.

Brilliant.

He was a really nice guy don't get me wrong, but he wasn't someone I would have chosen to live with.

The evening of the fateful day Stuart came home from work looking cross. Sharon had sent him a text message saying that she had cleared her stuff, thanked him for being such a great 'friend', apologised in her usual ditsy way and told him it was for the best.

I got home after a twelve till eight shift to find him in the sitting room staring at a note, then his phone and then managed a smile up at me.

"I'm really sorry Stu," I said, at a loss to anything else I could say or do.

"Thanks Becs," he said with a rather wan smile. He shrugged his shoulders, there was bugger all he could do or say either really.

"You're not going to go running off after her then?" I said, desperately wanting to tell him not to waste his time on my best mate.

"Nah," he said, "really don't think there's any point to that, I'm guessing that there's a new bloke on the scene and if her friends' Facebook pages are anything to go by, she's as loved up with him as she was with me."

I didn't do social media at all preferring to talk to my friends and drink coffee with them rather than looking at pictures of what they had for lunch. Stu showed me pictures that she had been tagged in and there was the reoccurring man getting closer and closer as the evening progressed.

Stu closed the App.

"Like I said, don't think I'll bother," he went quiet for a moment, "Look, Rebecca..." here it comes I thought, thinking he was going to lose it or something, but no. "this is your flat – if you want me out I will totally understand and will start looking for somewhere else straight away..."

I thought about that for a moment.

Yes I could advertise for another girlie nurse to share and I could go back to my walking around the flat half naked and talking about boys and sex; OR I could carry on living here with 'The Quiet Man', the educated, high earning (well much higher earning than me at least) guy that I could STILL have an intelligent conversation with that liked good books and intelligent movies, had his own car and could save me struggling with shopping bags on buses.

"I'm fine with it Stu," I said, then adding, "so long as you are?"

He smiled,

"Thank you, this will do nicely!" he held out his hand and I took it, "Thank heaven's for that," he all but sighed, "Last thing I wanted to do was have to start looking around again! Especially in the run up to Christmas!" Yes, the festive season was now just six weeks away.

"I know," I said, "wasn't particularly looking forward to finding someone else and do all of that contract shit with the landlord again."

"Look," he said, "I'll contact the agent and change the lease to my name and take Sharon off, not fair that you should pay for that."

"Thanks," I said, "I'd appreciate that."

"Excellent," he said, "So Becs," he said pursing his lips, "It's nearly nine o'clock, there's nothing quick in the fridge and I'm bloody starving, fancy a pizza with all the crap?" I must have had a look on my face so he quickly added, "delivered of course?"

One of Sharon's eccentricities was that while she loved restaurant food, she wouldn't have it in the flat. Couldn't be doing with the smell the next morning or having to clear up after. Apparently one of the reasons she had given for not moving in with Stuart was that the place 'smelled funny'.

I don't think it did for a second but that would have saved HER from having to bugger around and move.

"Hell yeah," I said with a smile, "have fancied one of them for ages!"

"My shout then," he said getting his phone out and ordering through an app.

Half an hour later he shouted out that it had arrived and I came back into the sitting room in my jammies and slippers and we sat down to a veritable feast. He'd ordered a huge ten slice with everything, mozzarella garlic bread, potato wedges, Coke and even a tub of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough.

"Dig in Becs," he said opening the lids on everything. So I did.

Fuck but it was nice. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed such a simple, tasty meal as this and Stu was delightful company, even though not three hours ago his girlfriend had dumped him in a quite brutal way.

"Shit but I missed doing this," he said raising his fourth slice of pizza.

"But you and Sharon used to go out for pizza?" I replied.

"Yeah, but I like coming home from a days work, ordering it, selecting a movie, only going as far as the front door and then eating it without having to dress up and go out."

I grinned and looked down at my cotton PJ's and slippers.

"OK, you've got me!" I took another bite, "I must confess that I did love to pick up a Chinese takeaway or a good curry on my way home. Used to sit in the garden with a disposable fork when the weather was nice!"

He laughed.

"What?"

"Seriously," I said, "you know how much of a drama queen Sharon could be about that kind of thing. If she so much as smelled a hint of coriander or found a crumb of prawn cracker or a grain of pilau she would moan and bitch and insist on tearing the flat to bits and bleaching everything. Was like living in a public toilet for the first day or so."

"Oh God yeah!" said Stu picking up a potato wedge and dunking it into garlic mayonnaise, "She'd start retching like she was going to throw up!"

"Yeah!" I replied grimacing. I picked up my glass of Coke; proper red labelled, full fat, Aspartame free Coca Cola, "And none of that Diet shit she insisted on."

Stuart raised his glass and touched mine with it,

"To the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he said.

"Cheers!"

Pizza finished, he turned on the TV and selected Netflix, going with the brilliant 'Gavin and Stacey' – funny, grown up humour in half hour chunks and we both sat there giggling at the excellent writing.

He picked up the tub of ice cream and pulled off the lid,

"Want some Becs?" he said.

I lay a hand on my belly with a contented moan, thanking him but demurring,

"No, you go on though."

He took a long cappuccino spoon from the coffee table and took a scoop, and did so three or four more times. The ice cream was one of my favourites and it was just the right side of soft without being liquid. Stu read what my look said and slid closer, reaching down for the other long spoon and sat next to me with a grin.

"Don't kid yourself Becs," he said with a smile.

I supressed my giggle but took the spoon and leaning closer to him I dipped into the tub noticing that he had only really attacked one half of the mooshy ice cream. It was delicious.

Come the end he took a final largish scoop and then gave me the rest sitting back with the last of the Coke. It was a lovely way to end the meal and we sat up on the sofa in close company.

I had that weekend off and on the Friday sent Stu a text message during my break saying 'dinner on me', and bought two curries with all the trimmings from a highly recommended Indian place around the corner from the flat.

When I got in it was to find that Stu had cleared and laid the table, for the first time since I had moved in I think, and had a bottle of prosecco nicely chilled with two wine glasses, real wine glasses, not the cheap tumblers we'd always used from when I was a student.

"Go freshen up and get changed," he said with a big smile, seeing the white carrier bag, "I'll plate it all up."

I was still in my scrubs and it was so nice to have someone else do that for me. Catering was rarely a shared business with Sharon, and I was looking forward to this. A great curry up to the table, not sat out in the garden. I washed up briefly, trotted back to my room in just my bra and knicks not worrying that he might see my brief 'nth of a second dash to my room in nothing worse than bikini. I pulled on my tight jeans, buttoned them and stroking them over my bottom to check they were straight then pulled on my tight T-shirt.

By the time I got back into the sitting room there it all was, plated with a light steam coming off of the dishes. Stu had done it properly and there were side plates with salad, onion bhajis, naan bread and he had poured the sparkling wine and lit candles.

Candles? I didn't even know we had candles!

But the whole scene was enchanting and the food was still hot. After all, my dinner guest was an environmental health officer and food safety was his profession.

We sat down to dinner and it was great, we cleared the plates and took our wine glasses back to the sofa and put our feet up into the middle to watch a movie. It was really nice.

The next morning, Stu was up and showered and said that he was going to go grocery shopping and asked me if I wanted anything, then he paused and asked if I'd like to come with him.

"Yes," I said, "how about..." I grinned, "how about we eat together, it has to be cheaper and we both seem to like the same things?"

"A splendid idea," he said with a grin and reached behind the coats hanging in the hallway for some shopping bags.

We drove to the big out of town supermarket and I was impressed not only by the selection but the price. My shopping had normally been in my small local Tesco close to home and I had always had to pick carefully for something I could eat, would eat, and would go for a couple of meals. I ate an awful lot of ready meals.

With Stu's knowledge as a foodie, he selected lots of veggies, meats, breads and I was most surprised at the cost. It was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be and there was a lot of stuff that I really liked and the makings of meals that I would have no problem creating. We went up to the in-store restaurant and had a breakfast that was really nice.

We went back to the flat, loaded the cupboard, the fridge and freezer sitting down with some cakes we had bought and large mugs of tea.

And that was how life went on; we went shopping together once a week or once a fortnight depending on my shifts and each night we took turns cooking, depending on what I was working. Stu was a standard Monday to Friday worker with the occasional late shift while I worked various depending on my rota. It's fair to say that Stu cooked more than I did, but then he was a far better chef than I ever was. And every Wednesday I wasn't working became our 'movie night', something nice to eat, a pudding and a feet up to watch a good film just to celebrate that half of the week was over and Friday was now in sight.

It was during one of these that my Mum came to visit having dropped my Dad at an event he was going to and I was really pleased to see her. I was just back from work and there was Stu with our dinner almost ready to plate up. I was still in my scrubs and said to Mum to take a seat while I got changed.

When I came back out with my jeans and light sweater on, Mum was sat on the sofa chatting with Stu with a mug of tea in her hand as he explained which film we were going to watch. He had already asked her if she would like to join us for dinner but being my Mum she had already cooked and eaten.