The Horny Geek Club Pt. 03

Saturday morning was not good. Saturday morning was very bad. Very, very bad.

I woke late, but still way too early for my head. The light was streaming through the curtains I'd forgotten to pull. I was face down. My duvet was half on and half off and one leg was hanging over the side. My head was on the point of implosion and my stomach felt like a tumble dryer full of bricks. I refused to lift my head. I thought that if I lay still enough, I may just go back to sleep, or better still, die.

I heard a noise in the kitchen. I considered that I should get up. My clock said it was 11. I never slept to 11, but then again, I never drank to 3. I pushed myself up and my movements were slow and painful. I needed the toilet and I needed a drink. I couldn't just lie there anymore. That sucked. To add to the head and guts, every joint ached, so movement hurt. The combined effect was like I'd spent the night getting beaten up and then for good measure a badger had a shit in my mouth after he'd been eating raw garlic all day.

I looked in the mirror and the make-up fairy had missed me out. I was smudged and smeared, and my hair was, let's say, unfashionable. At least I'd managed to get undressed. I could tell that by my jeans chucked into one in one corner, my blouse over a chair and my underwear in various random locations. I could see one shoe. No idea where her friend was. Today will be difficult, I thought.

I pulled on sweatpants and my dressing gown and dragged a box of make-up wipes across my face. I went to the loo and shuffled into to the kitchen. Alli was making coffee.

"Morning..." I said.

"Morning..." she said back not looking up. Ahhh, I thought, a fellow sufferer.

She turned round and gave me a cup. Bless, even when feeling like death she always thought of others.

"You look like absolute shit, Sal. And believe me I have waited almost two years to be able to say that. You are a fucking mess." She smiled and hugged me with a slow, pained movement. I stood limp in her arms holding the coffee.

"Thanks, honey, I appreciate your honesty. If it makes you feel any better, I feel like shit too."

"You and me both."

We sat on the sofa and blankly watched a Saturday morning cookery show. I rested my head against her shoulder and hoped that sleep may take me, and the pain would disappear. The damned coffee was doing its work though. I was awake for the day. Sarah joined us and sat on the armchair; her legs curled under her.

"That was a great night!" she said, in an all too chipper voice as she cradled her tea.

I nodded. So did Alli.

We sat the whole morning working our way through pots of coffee. I still felt terrible but being with best friends made it comfortable. We laughed about the evening and I nearly peed my pants when Alli admitted she'd given the guy from the club who thought we were lesbians her number. He was called Colin and was on her History course.

"You do know what he is expecting, now, don't you? Him and us.... doh! It's like every boy's dream!"

Alli gasped in horror. She genuinely hadn't thought of that. He sent a text that morning to her too and that just set us off again. She was going to meet him for coffee. Alli took the ribbing well and laughed with us.

Sarah had good news. She had chucked her boyfriend. Something twigged in her head about a girl she knew, texted her last night and got a response this morning. He was shagging them both. Neither knew. So, in synchronised texts he got dumped twice that morning. Alli and I had front seat tickets for the pathetic nonsense he came back with. Alli disapproved of dumping by text, but she made an exception for this dick.

"As Sal said, he's a..." She was building up to saying something.

"Go on Alli, you can say it, go on..." I egged her gleefully.

"He's a CUNT!" Alli shouted it out and we roared with laughter. She looked ever so pleased with herself.

As for me, I had nothing to say about my relationship life, love life, sex life. Nothing. As they talked, I asked and gave my opinion (I'm good that way) but would carefully avoid and steer away anything that came near my feelings about anyone or anything. I simply didn't have any.

That wasn't strictly speaking true. Even as I sat there, Angela kept popping into my head without being asked. Our encounter had been a genuine erotic connection, but there was more to it than that. There was more to her than that. There was something about her. Something about the way she spoke, or looked at me or moved, or led me by the hand to her bed. I wanted to banish these thoughts; they served no purpose at all.

My alcohol weakened defences were useless. She kept finding a way in. She was always smiling. Sometimes she was looking at me and sometimes she was in the middle of sexual delight. I couldn't empty my head of her.

As I sat with my friends laughing through our hangovers, my mind was always drifting back to her. I wondered if Angela had a hangover that morning. Does Angela get hangovers? Who does she laugh it through with? I pictured her curled up with a coffee. Her red hair tied up and her skin fresh and Scottish sun pale. I pictured her looking at me. I pictured her handing me wine, smiling at how naughty she was being. I pictured her in orgasm.

It was easier to just give in and pretend to myself there were no complications whatsoever, like the fact she paid for me to pleasure her. Although I felt like death, I was with two people I loved and who loved me, watching shit TV on a Saturday morning. In that security I could pretend to myself that it was ok to have feelings for someone. For Angela. I knew that was dangerous and pointless, but oh so easy in that moment, and I hadn't the energy to fight it off.

I smiled at the thought of her.

That little daydream was quickly dismantled by my reality.

Alli and Sarah went to the Kitchen to make more toast and coffee, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. It had vibrated with a message five minutes before and I was desperate to check it. I could only imagine it was Angela, desperate to connect with me somehow after our time together.

I opened WhatsApp immediately. It was from Harvey.

Oh, Fuck. I remembered immediately. I had an appointment later. My heart sank. Oh, boy.

"Sal, I hate to do this and of course, if not possible just that's ok. But...any chance we could move the appointment today from 5 to 6.? I'm coming back from Somerset and the train has been delayed. So sorry...! Harv"

Fuck.

There was no way I could face a geek today, and sweet Harvey had just offered a way out. That worked well. The idea of giving head made me want to heave. I thought if I bent my head forward, I would throw up, let alone what would happen if I then were to put anything in my mouth. I had no intention of vomiting on a geek lap. I was about to text back and cancel when Sarah and Alli came back in. I put my phone away quickly. They put the toast down and Sarah was opening the mail.

"Bad news bitches". Sarah looked after the flat bills and rent and whatever else came in. She was good at it and Alli and I were permanently grateful. Flat admin was a thankless shared living task.

"Gas, leccy, rent and oh, fun fact, the TV licence is due."

We groaned. That was my reality check. I was still financially always on the edge. My mind went to Harvey, and I knew I would have to go through with it. The boy would have something to look forward to all the way up from the country. I would let him know that six was good. Fuck this shit.

As for thoughts of Angela, my little sepia world was drifting away, and the downer effect of booze leaving my system was doing its work. That was an appointment last night, she paid me for it and later on today someone else would pay me for my extraordinary oral sex skills. There was no erotic, or any other kind of connection.

I cursed that bitch fun, party, drunk Sally for leaving me with this to deal with when I had a dose of the hangover blues. I felt pretty stupid at allowing my defences down for those 10 minutes when I indulged my never-will-happen sapphic fantasy.

Oh Sally, I thought, what are you doing to yourself. Just simplify things. Forget her.

I leaned into Alli and focussed on the TV. She put her arm around me. Alli was so amazingly lovely that even though I hadn't said anything she knew I needed a hug. Sarah put Netflix on and as the titles popped up with "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia", we all mumbled back to the TV in unison with our little flat ritual.

"It always fucking rains in Manchester!"

I looked out the window. It was. I wanted to go back to bed.

Sarah and Alli were both studying in their rooms later that afternoon, so slipping out for the appointment required no fabrication. I frankly didn't have the energy for lying anyway. Doing a different course from my flatmates was another one of those little things that helped me maintain my house of cards double life. They had no real idea of my schedule and they were often busy at convenient times for me. It was useful, but I hated lying to them.

I gathered up every ounce of energy my little body possessed to make Harvey's half hour exceptional. I was good at customer service. I even let him fondle my tits as a definitely-one-off-special because he'd had a hard day. He was incredibly grateful. I suspected that this add-on service would move things along more merrily than usual and I wanted done quickly. I was right. Poor guy looked overwhelmed with desire and probably broke some land speed record. I momentarily considered that a bit of fondling wasn't too hard and brought time efficiency to my service, so, maybe I could introduce more widely? No way - that was a slippery slope to go down. Angela only. Yup, still in my head.

The evening was more slumping in front of the TV and early to bed. I was exhausted. I sat propped up (make-up off this time, clothes put away and clean sheets on) and stared at my phone screen. More specifically I stared at the message thread from Angela. I knew what I was doing was so desperately unhealthy. I knew she was a client and not a lover. I wanted a message from her suggesting coffee, or a drink, an appointment. Better still a 'we gotta talk', and some way of moving to something more...more... well, just more.

I typed out a message.

"Hi Angela, I've been thinking about you all day..."

Nah, way too needy. I thought how I felt every time I got a message like that. Ugh.

"Hi Angela, I hope you had a great evening last night..."

Nope. What bit? The cunnilingus or the party with her geeky project team. The first bit was undoubtedly amazing, and the second bit was probably all about wiring and satellites and broadband and whatever they talked about.

"Hi Angela, when do you fancy your next appointment...?"

No way. I don't solicit. It went through my head that solicitation was technically illegal, and the way I worked things wasn't. The advantages of being a lawyer whore, I thought. Knock that 'whore' bit on the head, Sal. Hungover, tired, and emotional was not the time to analyse life choices.

I could always just be honest and say that I had developed feelings that had taken me by surprise, and I need to talk to her. Yeah, right, as if. Simplify.

"Coffee...S x?"

I paused over that one. It said nothing really. Bollocks. It said everything. I couldn't.

I deleted the message and threw my phone on the floor. Fuck this shit.

I lay back and decided not to think about the situation, but I could just allow myself to think about her. No real point in fighting it now, it had been a long day. That was nice, that was easy, that was horny. For the second night in the row I brought myself to climax thinking about a pretty, Scottish red-haired girl kissing me hard and exploring my body.

Sunday was a better day. I had another chat with myself and got my focus back. That is, I got my focus back on not remotely attempting to address anything emotional in my life. I spent the whole day in the library going over bits of the course I had already nailed. Just double locking it in. I did that regularly. There was no way I was going to have made the choices I made and not blast my studies out of the water. No, I had made too many sacrifices. That was good simplifying.

I was exhausted again when I got back to the flat and fully intended to head straight to bed.

Alli intercepted me with a smile.

"Remember that we have a 'date' tomorrow with Neil. 10.30, Starbucks?" I had totally pushed that non-simplifying arrangement out of my head.

"Yeah, of course, I do." Alli looked at me with mild disbelief. We both knew that wasn't true.

"Sal, For a girl who remembers all your dorky law stuff, can actually get answers correct on University Challenge, and knows every word to every Abba song ever written I have a sneaky suspicion you were going to forget that!"

"Hmmm" I said back in my best Marge Simpson. I had deliberately not put it on my phone either. A slight complication was that I had a final year doctor called Simon at 12.30 to blow, so that could be awkward if things ran on. This was not simplifying at all. This was unnecessary bullshit.

I protested, but I knew it was wasted and I was only half hearted. She wanted to help, and I owed it to her to let her help. Or think she was helping.

"Sal," Alli had her concerned face on, and that always just made me love her a little bit more. I could never let her down. (except for the lying and the double life, obvs). "I'm only doing this because I think he's really nice and you will get on. I don't expect anything other than that. Please give him a chance. I'd love it for you to be happy."

Turns out that putting me with Neil would have been inspired matchmaking by Alli, had it not been for, well, the entire rest of my life. He was tall, very tall, in fact perfect tall for me. He played rugby for the University (ahh, thought I, therefore an arrogant arsehole, which will make dispensing with him after today easy). He had a stunning physique, not only tall but broad. No beefcake though, he was just proper boy eye candy. He was there first, and he stood up to kiss us both on the cheeks when we arrived. He towered above me in my flats, I felt small and sexy beside him straight away.

He asked loads of questions and was interested in the answers. Course, school, interests, travel. I found myself genuinely fascinated by his story about getting lost in Thailand. He never once mentioned how much he and his rugby chums could drink, or how much they beat the shit out of Liverpool University the previous weekend. He had a bit of a black eye from a match at the weekend. It was strangely quite hot. He was attentive, polite, funny and spoke to my face the whole time.

He was confident without arrogance and after an hour, as I was checking the time very blatantly, he asked for my number. Alli positively beamed at this. I was taken aback but gave it to him. All of a sudden, he was on my contacts list and I was on his. That suggested this wouldn't be done today and I would have to find another way out.

"I'll text you later in the week, for perhaps a drink or dinner?"

"Sure, I am very busy though." I could set this up to drift. Not my first rodeo.

Alli frowned. I looked at her. She frowned deeper. I sighed, possibly too visibly.

"But I'll have time for a drink, for sure." Neil was happy and Alli was happy. I guess I was okay too. One date, and then Neil would exit stage left.

I suddenly imagined how small Angela would look standing beside him. Small and cute. What the fuck? Is she going to pop into my head all the fucking time? Come on, this isn't fair.

I arrived back at the flat at six after my appointment and an afternoon in the library. Alli hugged me when I got in and told me a date would be good for me, and went on about how lovely Neil was. Proper boyfriend material, and soooo into you, she said. I nodded along with her enthusiasm. Simple was disappearing quickly. I tried not to fidget openly with her. She hugged me and went to her room to finish her essay on the French Revolution.

I did a lot of thinking over the next few days. I knew I was in a life moment and I wasn't enjoying it.

I was trying to forget Angela, but every single time my phone buzzed my heart leapt in anticipation that it might be her. That was ridiculous and I knew it. I know that what I wanted was to hear that she wanted something less, well, professional to our relationship. I thought that if she did, I'd have heard over the weekend. It's the hope that kills.

I started a message to her a million (minor, but only minor exaggeration) times. I could never get it right and as the week slid by it got tougher. I couldn't get past the payment for sex barrier. This was not normal, but my feelings didn't seem to give a shit about 'not normal'.

She had stirred stuff up in me in a way I had worked very fucking hard to avoid for the last two years. I felt something tweak at me the first time I was with her and I felt much more second. I opened the gates and she barged through in a geeky lab coat. I thought long and hard that it might just be that she was a girl thing too. Was that it? Was this just some sort of experimental lesbian crush? I knew that wasn't it though.

But, what was going on? I didn't like it at all. My thoughts no longer seemed to belong to me. I hardly knew this girl, yet I was close to obsessing about her. I wanted to know her. I wanted to know all about her.

Then there was the constant deceit. I always hated lying to Alli, but this Neil situation was shaping up like a potential disaster. Not only would I have to lie to him to weasel out (no biggie), but I would then have to explain to Alli too, and she knew me very well (biggie). There'd be no way I could tell her the truth. It was all fucked up. I still needed to simplify.

By Thursday I had to do something. Communication from Angela had been nil, and she still dominated my idle thoughts. I'd put Neil off a few times, but he was charmingly persistent. I was sitting in the living room by myself with the TV off. The other two were at lectures.

"I have to fucking deal with this fucking shit." I said to an empty room.

I picked up my phone and opened WhatsApp. I was going to grab the moment and send a message that would simplify things and give me a chance to find some peace and possibly, some happiness too.

"How would you fancy a drink tomorrow (Friday)? S x." A simple message to simplify. I pressed send, threw my phone on the sofa, and put the news on.

The time of the response from my phone was short enough so I wasn't hanging but delayed enough to not seem desperate and clingy.

"So nice to hear from you -- that would be great!"

We went back and forward a few times after that and we settled the details of our date. A nice wine bar on Deansgate was the choice. I knew it and liked it.

I had just arranged a date with Neil. Time to get control.

They say that the best way to get over one man is to get under another. If you change the gender in the opening part of that, you have where my head was with that decision. Was I avoiding things? Yes. Was this more world-class Sally avoidance technique? Yes. Was I into Neil? Not really, maybe sort of, meh, even though he was a straight up hottie. I wasn't in to him because I was massively in to someone else where there was no future at all. This would cure that. They also say if you can't hold the one you love then love the one you hold.

I realised I was conducting my sex life through the medium of aphorisms, but that was fine. They were clichés because they were true.

There was no future with Neil either. I knew that, so my motivation was quite singular. It was entirely carnal. I have never been the sort of person to jump into bed on a first date, despite what my 'professional' credentials would suggest. I like the tease. Like everyone else I have made a few 'horny bad choices', as Angela put it. (Whoops. There she was again. Even appearing in my preparations for a one-night stand), but this was deliberate and calculating. I knew what I wanted.