Lucy has a ‘date’ with Peter, her new Friend With Benefits.
To find out how on earth a woman as utterly-crap-with-men as Lucy managed to bag herself an actual FWB, click here (this takes you back to the very beginning). Or click here to catch up on what happened last time.
Lucy and Peter have only met a few times, but already they’ve settled into an entirely practical arragement which is only nominally about Friendship and mostly just about the Benefits.
So when Peter texts and asks Lucy if he can take her out for lunch this time, she’s a bit confused. Does he want to actually take her on a date? Or is he just hungry?
They meet on a Sunday. That morning, in preparation, Lucy has been to the gym, washed her hair, and epilated her legs and bikini line. For the uninitiated, this means using a device containing a rotating wheel of about a thousand pairs of sharp tweezers to violently rip each hair out by the root from the most sensitive part of her anatomy. It sounds like a plane taking off and probably wouldn’t be out of place in a torturer’s toolkit.
This might make it sound as though Lucy is hard as nails (and yes, it fucking hurts), but honestly choosing to epilate her bikini line is mostly about laziness.
After The Ex left, and she was thrown back into the dating pool, Lucy worried about what she was supposed to do about her lady garden. She came of age in an era where women were actually allowed to have body hair. Back then, a bikini line was so-called because you only needed to remove the bits that peeked out around the edges of a substantial pair of bikini bottoms. Certainly none of the men she dated in her 20s or early 30s ever commented or complained.
But in 2015 times had changed. Women were going crazy with Hollywoods and Brazilians and Vajazzling and God Knows What Else that made Lucy deeply anxious. Was this the sort of thing that single men were expecting now? Would they run for the hills when she stripped off in front of them and they discovered that she had actual pubic hair?
She even consulted a couple of single male friends on the subject, who assured her that by the time a girl is getting her knickers off, the guy is probably so delighted he doesn’t even notice. So Lucy went back to her low-maintenance tactic of just grabbing the epilator once in a while and nipping out the strays around the edges. It’s far cheaper, less messy, and less time-consuming than going to get waxed. Even if it does burn with the pain of a thousand knives.
So this is what she does the morning of her date with Peter. Well, you’ve got to tidy up before inviting visitors in, don’t you?
For the first time, Peter is punctual. He bounds up the stairs like an enthusiastic puppy and gives her a proper, serious snog on the landing. It’s been a while since Lucy has had one of those; it makes her (and her lady bits) wish she hadn’t agreed to go for lunch. She’d much prefer to spend the restricted hours she has with Peter doing the sort of things she currently can’t do with anyone else.
But he wants to take her for lunch, so lunch it is.
They head to a gastropub round the corner. As you might expect, the menu is full of typical sturdy pub meals: burgers, Sunday roast, sausage and mash. Lucy, who hasn’t had any breakfast, is starving. She’s about to go for the roast before she realises that immediately after eating she is going to have to take all her kit off and get physical. Don’t they say you’re not supposed to eat just before exercise?
This is a Dilemma. Yummy Sunday roast and a food baby, or salad and a flat stomach?
But Lucy’s not really one to let anything get between her and food. Fuck it, she thinks, and orders the roast.
Over lunch, Peter asks her about how the dating is going. Lucy finds this a bit odd. Yes, they are supposed to be Friends as well as With Benefits, and certainly neither of them is under any illusion that this is an exclusive arrangement, but all the same… It feels a bit inappropriate to talk about other guys with a man whom she is about to take home and get frisky with.
“Why do you want to know so much?” she asks. “Isn’t this a bit weird?”
“Oh My God… is it?” Peter asks. Lucy’s noticed he says Oh My God a lot. “I just want to know how much longer I’m going to have you for before I lose you to someone else.”
“Don’t worry,” she assures him. “There’s nothing on the horizon at the moment. Of course if I did meet someone who was going to become a boyfriend, this would have to end. I wouldn’t sleep with more than one person at a time. But you’re safe for now, and for the foreseeable future for that matter. Is that ok?”
“Hundred Per Cent.” Another of Peter’s little catchphrases.
“If I did meet someone, would you be jealous?” she fishes.
“Actually… yes. I would be jealous if you sleep with someone else and ditch me.”
But he doesn’t ask her not to. So Lucy lets it go. She doesn’t want to be in a relationship with Peter anyway: he’s the perfect fuck buddy, and she wants to preserve that easygoing, hassle-free arrangement for as long as possible.
She pops to the loo, and when she comes back he’s requested and paid the bill.
Cute, she thinks. Lucy likes it when a guy does that. No debates, no arguments, just decisive and chivalrous in one stroke.
It’s also about bloody time. Lucy would normally never sleep with a man before he’s bought her dinner. Things have been all about-face with Peter, but happily order is now restored.
They head back to hers, where Peter starts removing her clothes before the door has barely even shut behind them. Lucy has to concentrate on holding her stomach in but the roast beef and potatoes are making it even trickier than usual.
But she has a cunning plan. She kneels in front of him and gets busy with her mouth. Guys like this – and the flattering angle will mean he won’t be able to see her belly. Lucy makes a big play of looking up, making eye contact, and pretending to be sexy. Hopefully the distraction technique will do the trick.
It seems to work. Peter responds perfectly, making appreciative noises and telling her how amazing she is. Lucy has never been entirely sure about this, so it’s nice to have reassurance.
Lucy’s actually fairly ambivalent about giving blowjobs. It’s not exactly her favourite thing to do, but she doesn’t mind as long as the guy has washed and trimmed. The beauty of the arrangement with Peter is that because it’s all planned, he always arrives fully prepared – no messy spontaneity or inconvenient surprises. So she’s happy to reward him with a little treat – he’s been extremely generous in that department anyway, so it’s only fair that she returns the favour.
He pushes her onto the bed and starts getting down to business. But first he has a request. He’d like to – just briefly – have a go without using protection. Just for a moment, he says. Just so he can feel the connection of skin on skin.
Lucy isn’t a huge fan of condoms either. To be fair, they have their uses – obviously the no-pregnancy/no-STI’s thing is a big plus, and also they make sex a whole lot cleaner and tidier, which for a practical girl like Lucy is a great advantage. But the issue is with the chafing. Go at it for a while with a condom on and a girl can soon start to feel the sort of raw that would have a marathon runner reaching for the Vaseline.
So Peter’s request is tempting – but it’s also frightening. Girls have it drummed into them from a young age that you can still get pregnant even if the guy doesn’t, you know, finish. And Lucy definitely doesn’t want to get pregnant. She also doesn’t want to catch anything, and she doesn’t know where else he’s been. Can you catch an STI from just a few seconds’ condom-free penetration? Probably.
It’s a risk. But Lucy’s a little fed up of always being well-behaved. She’s never done anything remotely naughty or dangerous – and she’s thirty-fucking-eight. It’s about time she found out what all the fuss is about.
So she lets him – just for a moment. He’s the first man to have done this since The Ex, and it feels gooooood. But much as she’s enjoying the connection, there’s a problem. The annoying little goody-two-shoes voice in her head – the one that always bloody ruins the fun – is nagging that she shouldn’t be doing this.
Lucy tries to tell the uptight little sissy to shut the fuck up, but as usual the preachy voice has already ruined whatever fun was to be had. So Lucy stops Peter, reaches for the bedside drawer, and safety is restored.
He gets back down to business with renewed vigour. If anything, a little too much vigour – after all, it’s been a while for both of them so he’s particularly energetic – and for a shorter guy Peter is surprisingly generously endowed (proving that you never can tell). Lucy starts to find his enthusiastic pumping rather bruising.
Amir is short. Lucy finds herself wondering if there’s any correlation. Probably shouldn’t be thinking about Amir right now, though.
But it’s too late. The moment is lost. Now all she can do is wait for Peter to get to the end, hopefully as soon as possible before the chafing starts. She starts making encouraging sexy noises, and in return Peter resumes his running commentary – a blow by blow description of what’s going on punctuated with frequent ‘Oh My God’s.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Maybe Lucy is not cut out for the carefree FWB lifestyle after all.
To find out what happened next with Peter, click here.