Candid Confessions of a Shameless Sexaholic...Part One: Just What The Doctor Ordered (11 page)

Well, I certainly wasn’t imagining it.
When I got back to the office, there was a long slim box lying on my desk,
neatly gift-wrapped and tied with a bow. I opened it up to find a single red
rose inside, identical to the ones I had received the other day. There was no
note, no card…but there was no need for one either. The rose said everything
all on its own.

            I found it hard to
concentrate for the rest of the day. All I could think about was my
relationship with Brad. What did it mean? Where was it going? What was it all
about? More than that, I was trying to get in touch with my own feelings. What
was this topsy turvy feeling that I sensed deep within me…this strange yearning
and longing that I had never felt before…like a strange mix of happiness and
wretchedness all at once. Was this love? The idea seemed preposterous, but it
was certainly a feeling that I had never sensed before. And yes, it was better
than sex. Better, that is, than the meaningless sex encounters I had mistaken
for happiness for so long.

            When I got home, I confessed
my feelings to Ellen as we sat watching TV late in the evening, and she almost
fell out of her armchair laughing.

            ‘In love? The great
man-eater Angel? That’s the funniest thing I have ever heard.’

The bitch. ‘I
don’t know if it’s love, but it something I have never felt before, and I like
it.’

Ellen tried to
look serious, but I could see that she was struggling to keep a straight face.
‘Good for you, Angel…I’m glad you have found something – someone – special at
last. I guess by law of averages it was bound to happen sooner or later. I hope
you can make it all work, because it won’t be easy.’

‘What does that
mean?’ I grabbed the remote control and switched the TV off. ‘Why shouldn’t it
work?’

Ellen struggled
to find the right word. ‘Brad is an awesome guy, that’s for sure. But you
really need to think about the foundation of this “relationship” before you get
too deeply into it.’ As she said “relationship” she did the quotation mark
thing with her fingers. What did that mean?

‘I don’t
understand.’

Ellen paused and
took a deep breath. ‘What I mean is, good relationships are built on trust,
right? That means being open and honest with each other. And let’s be frank,
you are certainly not being honest with Brad right now. You weren’t exactly a
virgin who was innocently seduced last night. There is a whole side to your
nature that he knows nothing about. You can’t tell him without scaring him off,
but if you don’t tell him, then whatever relationship you have is based on
lies. Which means it is no relationship at all.’

She was right.
It hit me like a train wreck. I was making a fool of myself, letting Brad
believe that I was some innocent young lady, when the reality was that I had
fucked my way through half the men in Sydney, and then made a good start on the
second half. I sat there shellshocked. What an idiot I had been, living in a
dream world, and ignoring reality.

‘I’ve got to go
out,’ I said. Ellen called after me, but I wanted to be alone. I stormed out of
the apartment, down into the street and started walking to nowhere in
particular at a furious pace.

I turned it all
over in my mind, and tried to make sense of it. But I knew deep down that Ellen
was right. If I wasn’t honest with Brad, the whole thing would be a charade. I
didn’t know what kind of relationship we had, and where we might go, but if I
wasn’t honest with him, our relationship had about as much future as the
Titanic steaming towards its iceberg.

But there was no
way I could tell him the truth, either. The idea was absurd. If I started
recounting the details of my sexual exploits, he would run for the hills. I was
caught in a trap, with no way out. Heads I lose, tails I lose. A lose/lose
situation.

I kept walking,
not knowing or caring where I was going. Eventually, I found myself on George
Street, the main street through the city, heading North. I walked further than
I could ever remember walking before, past George St. and Circular Quay and
into the Rocks, one of the oldest parts of Sydney harbour. I only stopped when
I reached the water’s edge. I felt like Forrest Gump – just keeping going until
I reached the ocean, for no particular reason whatsoever. Any reason I had in
my life had just evaporated.

The more I
thought about it, I realized that option A and option B were both out. I
couldn’t carry on without saying anything to Brad about my past, and equally
there was no way that I could ever talk to him about it without losing him. I
realized that the only available choice was option C…end the whole thing now
and walk away. The idea hurt, it really did, but it would be the best thing for
both of us. I would be able to get on with my life as if we had never met, as
painful a concept as that seemed. And Brad would write me off as just another
silly woman who didn’t make the grade and move on.

Yes, that was
it. I would have to end it. But how?

***

Yes, I know. What I should have done is
pick up the phone and tell him straight. Or better still, tell him face to
face. The only thing I can say in my defence is that at least I didn’t try to
end the relationship with a text message or an email. Even I don’t sink as low
as that.

            The truth is, I did nothing.
I put the decision off, and then put it off some more. Procrastination is
speciality of mine. I can put things off for weeks or even months at a time,
especially if they are things I really don’t want to do. So instead of facing
up to what needed to be done, I became an expert at avoidance. For the next
week, I did everything I could to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

            Brad rang me at work, but I
didn’t take the calls. He rang my mobile, and sent me text messages, but didn’t
get a reply. I felt like a complete shit, but I just didn’t know how to handle
the situation. I just buried myself in my work, and tried to forget what had
happened between us. Fortunately, we had a lot to do in the office, so it
wasn’t hard to find things to keep my mind occupied. We were working on a
special edition, so that meant plenty of extra work with photographers,
writers, contributors and suppliers.

            For that whole week, the
days flew by, but the evenings dragged. And the nights were as lonely as hell.
Ellen was away on business, so I was completely alone in the apartment. Several
times the doorbell rang during the evening, but I ignored it every time. I
didn’t want to see anyone, or speak to anyone…or to have anything to do with
anyone else on the planet. My plan was to just keep on working hard and focus
on my career until life sorted itself out again, sooner or later. My mum used
to tell me that things always work out for the best in the end. I hoped she was
right.

            On Friday morning, I arrived
outside the office on the stroke of nine, clutching a Starbucks and a sticky
bun. My calorie consumption had gone up by a factor of ten in the last few
days. I had eaten all the chocolate that Ellen had hidden around the apartment,
and was now working my way through all the buns and cakes in the dozens of
cafes around the office. If I kept going at this rate, I would double my weight
in three months, and then I would never have to worry about my sex life again –
I wouldn’t have one.

            I hurried into the office
foyer and jabbed at the elevator buttons. The elevator took an age to arrive.
When it finally showed up, I hit the button for my floor and turned round to
face the doors. The doors had started to close when someone called out, ‘wait!’

            Now I bet you are the kind
of bitch who wouldn’t try to hold the elevator, aren’t you? You would make a
token effort at reaching for the ‘open doors’ button, then smile helplessly as
the doors closed anyway. OK, sorry – that’s not fair. You’re probably not that
kind of person at all. But you know what I mean, right? Anyway, I’m not that
kind of person, either – that’s the point I’m trying to make. I reached out and
poked at the buttons, and the doors jumped outwards as if I had given them an
electric shock.

            A man stepped inside, and it
was only as he said ‘thank you’ that I realized who it was.

            Brad.

The doors closed and the elevator
started to move. Brad smiled at me. ‘Well, there’s no getting away from me this
time. I’ve been chasing you all week. You haven’t returned my calls or my
messages.’

 I felt like a
complete bum – and yes, I know, I deserved it. I felt my face flushing. ‘I’m
sorry…I’ve been busy. We’ve got a lot on.’

‘Angel, we both
know there is more to it than that. So please tell me what’s going on. I just
need you to be straight with me.’ With that, he pressed the emergency stop
button, and the elevator jarred to a sudden halt.

‘I just need you
to tell me the truth,’ Brad said, with a rather pained expression on his face.
‘If you want to end this, just tell me straight. I will walk out of this
building and you will never see me again. Just tell me what I did wrong.’

I felt a tear
running down my cheek. ‘Oh, Brad…it’s not you. It’s me. You are better off
without me. There are things about me that you don’t know, and I could never
tell me. I’ve ruined everything, and it is all my fault, not yours.’

Brad gave me a
gentle smile. ‘Please tell me…what is it that I don’t know. I think I have the
right to know why I can’t see you again.’

I shook my head.
‘You wouldn’t want to know, you really wouldn’t.’

‘I think I
should be the judge of that, don’t you?’

Well, OK, if he
wanted the truth, maybe I should let him have it. I placed my coffee and bun on
the floor, then crossed my arms defiantly. ‘You know that friend of mine…the
friend of a friend…the one who loves sex?

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it’s not
a friend of a friend. It’s me.’

There I’d said
it. It was all over. All I had to do now was put up with a few minutes of his anger
and frustration, then he would storm off in a temper and I would never see him
again. But I couldn’t stop the tears, tears that were now coming faster than
ever.’

Brad looked
disappointed. ‘Oh, I thought you were going to tell me something I didn’t know
already.’

I looked up at
him puzzled. ‘You knew?’

He chuckled.
‘Angel, I have people coming into my consulting practice every day to talk
about the relationship problems that a “friend of a friend” is having. If I
couldn’t see through that one, I would be out of a job. It’s the oldest line in
the book.’

I was totally
confused now. ‘But…after all that I told you, you still wanted to date me…and
make love to me?’

He took my hand
in his. ‘The one thing that I have learned in my job over the years is that it
is not who you were that counts…it is who you are – and who you want to be in
the future. We all have skeletons in our closets. That is not important. What
is important is how we deal with those issues, and how we choose to go on and
live our lives. I know that you are a beautiful person…I want to find out more
about you.’

I squeezed his
hand hopefully. ‘You really don’t mind? I can’t help it…I just seem to have a
very high sex drive….’

Brad pulled me
closer. ‘What red-blooded male in his right mind would turn down a beautiful
woman with a high sex drive? You might say it’s a perfect combination.’

Looking at it
that way, I could see he had a point. Brad kissed me deeply, and I felt the
release of all the tension that had been building up for the last week. I just
wanted to hold him close. But Brad seemed to be after more. His hands slid down
and pulled up my skirt, and I felt him grabbing my buttocks and slipping inside
my panties. He pressed his body against mine, and I could feel his erection growing
as our bodies touched. He wanted to make love, right there and then, in the
elevator.

For once, I
surprised even myself. I gently pushed his hands away. ‘Why don’t we save this
for later? I mean…there will be a “later” won’t there?

Brad grinned and
hit the “Start” button on the elevator. As we started to rise, he stroked my
cheek and said:

‘Oh yes,
Angel…there will be lots of “laters” – you can count on it.

***

See? I’m not the hopeless basket case
you thought I was. You’ll never guess what happened next – it was absolutely
amazing! But I don’t have time to tell you about that now…I’ll give you all the
sexy and exciting news in my next book…

***

Safe Sex is Better Sex

This book is a work of fiction, and the
characters bear no intended similarity to any persons living or dead.

In the interests of pace and keeping the
story moving, I have omitted the details relating to safe sexual practices. But
you can rest assured that all of my characters ensure that proper protection is
in place before any sexual contact occurs, unless they are in a long-term
monagamous relationship. Safe sex is always better sex, in fiction as in real
life.