Lucy’s been looking for a new Friend With Benefits.
This isn’t Lucy’s normal style. She’s not really the kind of girl who wants to sleep around, or have a succession of random men passing through her bed. But she also has, you know, physical needs, and while she continues the hunt for just one lovely guy who will be able to satisfy them long term, she needs to find a backup. Someone who’ll help her scratch that itch without her having to delete the line ‘no hookups’ from her Tinder profile.
And just when she thought finding that person would be next to impossible, Adam walked back into her life, and volunteered for the job.
To read more about Adam, and how this all happened, click here.
Lucy and Adam arranged to have their first FWB hookup last week, but then at the very last minute he had to cancel. Now they’ve rearranged for Monday afternoon, and so Lucy has nicknamed him Mr Monday.
If he cancels again, she’ll have to call him something else. Maybe ‘You Cunt’.
But there’s no need for a backup, because on Monday morning Adam texts to confirm that he’ll be setting off after lunch, and so the nickname becomes official.
As the hour of his arrival ticks closer, Lucy gets more and more nervous. She tries to distract herself by going to the gym (a few last emergency situps for as flat a stomach as possible), washing her hair, and tweezing a few stray hairs out of her bikini area. But nothing can really stop her mind from overthinking. What if it’s awkward? What if she’s not feeling it? It’d be so fucking embarrassing to have made him come all that way and then not put out. Or what if she wants to but he doesn’t. What if he takes one look at her, after having not seen her for nearly a year, and then changes his mind?
Breathe Lucy. It’s going to be fine. After all, he’s volunteered to drive for two hours to see her (I know, right?!) so he’s not going to back out. And if there’s any awkwardness, it’s nothing that a bottle of wine won’t fix.
Still, Lucy doesn’t want to take any chances. She takes extra care over her makeup, puts on her sexiest underwear (red, from M&S’s Autograph Collection) and dresses in her favourite jumpsuit which is a perfect mix of comfortable-at-home wear meets stylish date attire.
And then she waits.
At 3.30 pm, he calls to say he’s arrived. She buzzes him in through the front gate and watches from the window as he parks the car and gets out. He’s just as she remembers: tall, lean, muscular, and, now that sex is very much on the table, looking… well… sexy.
Only one thing has changed since she last saw him. For some stupid, infuriating reason, he’s grown a beard. And as regular readers of this blog will know, Lucy hates beards.
What the fuck is it with men and facial hair? What possesses an otherwise attractive man to suddenly decide to ruin his good looks by sprouting an offensive mass of wiry fuzz on his chin? It’s something Lucy will never understand. And surely Adam should have warned her about this critical development? If she had gained three stone she’s pretty fucking sure he would have wanted to be informed. Surely this kind of dramatic change in a person’s appearance warrants at the very least a polite heads up?
But it’s too late now: he’s here, and she’s just going to have to fucking deal with it. He buzzes her flat, she lets him in, and waits at the top of the stairs.
But what sort of greeting should this be? The last time they saw each other, they’d already been on a few dates, so a kiss on the lips was standard. But now? They haven’t met for nearly a year. Are they friends? Should it be a hug or a peck on the cheek? Or does the fact that they both know he’s here for sex mean they should go in for a full-on snog right away? Having never done this before, Lucy has no idea what the etiquette ought to be.
She decides the safest and most appropriate option would be a quick peck on the lips, but as he gets to her front door he goes in for a hug, and she has to awkwardly convert her movement into a cheek kiss instead. She smiles nervously. “Hey! Nice to see you! You’ve grown a beard!”
“Well spotted,” Adam says, and strokes it awkwardly. “I just got bored of shaving one day, so I stopped.”
Lucy shrugs. “Huh.” If you can’t say anything nice, say nothing at all, right?
In fairness, it’s not so terrible. Quite neat. She’s definitely seen worse.
“So how’s your grandma?” she asks, pointedly.
“She’s ok now, but my God we were in A&E all day! It was such a pain! I’m so sorry I let you down!”
Lucy’s still not entirely convinced she believes the sick grandma story, but never mind. He’s here now, and that’s what matters.
Adam comes inside. He looks good: he’s wearing jeans and a chunky knit jumper that makes him seem strong and dependable. Lucy had forgotten how lovely and crinkly and bright blue his eyes are, and somehow they seem even more so now that his face is half covered by beard.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she smiles. “Shall I give you the tour?” She shows him the kitchen, living room and bathroom, and, somewhat awkwardly, her bedroom, the queen-size bed standing there like the elephant in the room, laden with suggestion. Finally she shows him the spare room. “And this is where you can sleep,” she jokes. Except she’s not really joking.
“Actually that’s fine,” he replies, “I’m a pretty terrible sleeper anyway and I wouldn’t want to keep you awake.”
Well this could be very handy. Looks like she’s going to get sex AND a good night’s sleep. Win!
But he still hasn’t touched her, and the tension between them is palpable. Lucy, however, has prepared well and has stocked the fridge with the saviour of nervous daters everywhere: wine. She grabs a bottle and two glasses, and invites Adam to join her in the living room.
They settle side by side on the sofa. Lucy half turns towards Adam with one leg curled under her so her knee is just very gently touching Adam’s thigh. It’s the faintest physical contact, but Lucy feels her pulse quicken with anticipation. Suddenly she knows this is going to be ok.
They drink their wine and make small talk. How was your day? How was the journey? Ways of passing the time while she necks the wine as fast as possible and waits for it to take effect.
Adam coughs, “Actually, I’ve got a bit of a cold coming on. I might not be on the best form. I even thought about not coming because of it but I didn’t want to let you down again.”
Lucy pulls a face, “You probably wouldn’t have got another chance if you had!” she retorts.
“I figured that, that’s why I didn’t cancel. But I don’t want to make you sick too.”
It’s the first direct reference to the fact that they might be about to come into very close contact. She holds his gaze for just a fraction longer than is comfortable, and then looks away and laughs. “Oh, man up! You don’t seem that sick. I’m sure we’ll both be fine.”
They swiftly get through the first bottle of wine and head back into the kitchen for a second. With half a bottle inside her on an empty stomach, Lucy has relaxed and her confidence is returning.
“Have you told anyone you’re here?” she asks, as she pours out two more glasses.
“I told my friends about you before, when we were dating, but no one knows about this now. You can be my dirty little secret.” He tails off and looks at her with a naughty twinkle in his eye.
This seems like Lucy’s cue. She puts the bottle down, takes two steps across to where he’s standing, and kisses him.
He responds, and even with the beard, it’s a great kiss. He always had good technique: a varied, irregular rhythm and not too much tongue, and now with all the build-up and suggestion, it’s even better. Lucy immediately gets feels in all the good places.
They return to the sofa for a full-on make-out session. This is way better than it was last time she saw him, when she was undecided about how she felt about him and worried about hurting his feelings. Now that they are just two people who want to fuck each other, everything is clear and simple and uncomplicated. Adam manoeuvres her so she’s lying on her back with her head on a cushion, lies on top of her and kisses her again. She wraps her legs round him and he grinds into her. It’s exciting, but also a little squished and awkward. Lucy suggests moving to the bedroom, and makes a mental note to buy a bigger sofa.
Adam has some trouble figuring out how to get the jumpsuit off, so Lucy lends a hand and soon she’s down to her bra and knickers. If he notices them he doesn’t say, and again Lucy feels a flicker of irritation. Why does she buy this stuff anyway? But she’s soon distracted from that thought by the sight of Adam taking off his top.
His body is just as good, if not better than expected: toned but not too beefy, with smooth skin, lightly tanned and strokeably soft. A light sprinkling of blonde hair on his chest, but not too much on his arms and – hurrah! – none on his back. A surprise tattoo on his right bicep – some sort of symbol, slightly blurred and faded, no doubt a throwback to a more adventurous youth. Lucy’s not a fan of too many tattoos, but this one, inked onto his golden, taut, 34-year-old skin, looks sexy as fuck. Or maybe it’s just the situation and the wine. Who cares? It’s all awesome.
Lucy feels underdressed in just her underwear while Adam still has jeans on, so she reaches for his belt buckle and fumbles with it, making a shockingly poor job of undoing his jeans. You’d think she’d never undone a belt before. This is the part where usually she’d hope to cop a quick feel, you know, to get the, um, measure of him, but she doesn’t get a chance. Instead, Adam helps her, and then whips off his underwear (snug-fitting jersey shorts, nice!), and hers too for good measure.
And now he’s completely naked, and she can take a proper look at what she’s dealing with.
This is the part that Lucy’s always a bit nervous about. They say that size doesn’t matter, and to a great extent that’s true. She’s dated guys who were bigger, but who were selfish and boring in bed, and guys who were more diminutive, but who were enthusiastic and generous. So as long as there is something reasonable there, all bets are on. But even so, there’s always a slight fear at pants-removal time, in case some unknown terror might lurk within.
Now that she can get a good look at Adam full-frontal for the first time, she’s delighted to see that there’s no such issue here. He doesn’t appear to have any worries in the trouser department… at least as far as she can tell. But the reason she’s still unsure is that in spite of all that kissing and touching, which certainly has managed to get Lucy, well, um, ready to go, Adam still seems to be lagging behind. Not much happening down there at all. She might as well have just spent the last half hour talking to him about town planning.
Could it be that he’s suffering from a little performance anxiety? she wonders. Or is it me? Maybe he doesn’t fancy me as much as I thought? Or did I do something wrong? Does he think I’m too old?
But before those ideas take hold, Adam disabuses her of any insecurities by flipping her onto her back, spreading her legs, and getting involved. Lucy’s never had a man-beard all up in her, um, lady-beard before, and it’s rather disconcerting: she can feel his chin fuzz brushing against her inner thighs, all soft and ticklish and entirely unexpected. But as much as she’s unsettled by the new sensation, she’s also soon distracted by his excellent tongue technique, and it’s not long before she’s gasping her way to a delighted end.
A satisfied and obviously pleased-with himself Adam looks up at her from between her legs. “You liked that, huh?”
She gives him a grin. “You can stay.”
He sits up and leans towards her for a kiss, and Lucy realises with utter horror that his beard is now drenched and slick with all sorts of unmentionable juices that don’t bear thinking about and certainly should not be allowed anywhere near her own face. It’s one thing for boys to like getting all up in that sort of thing (though to be honest she’s never been able to understand how or why) but she doesn’t want him coming anywhere near her like that until he’s washed. So gross!
Lucy didn’t think there could be any more reasons left to hate beards, and yet here’s another one. Seriously, why TF do guys do it?
She packs him off to the bathroom and he returns a moment later smelling strongly of her Dove handwash. It’s quite a pungent smell – why didn’t he use the face wash on the side, she wonders? – but at least he’s clean now. It’s a fuck of a lot better than whatever was in there before, that’s for sure.
Adam rejoins her on the bed and kisses her again, a deep and extremely exciting kiss, if a little handwashy. And after all that play and teasing and tongue action, Lucy is now most definitely ready to be assertively and energetically fucked, so she reaches down to see if maybe now he might have perked up a bit.
But he hasn’t. Adam Junior is still showing no interest in her whatsoever. Hmmm… this is Not Good.
To find out what happened next, click here.