The third date wasn’t really a date – more an entirely unapologetic and surprisingly acrobatic sex session, after which he vanished completely into thin air.
Lucy was just about start googling for news of Peter’s death, when he resurfaced and invited himself over again. How romantic, she sighs, starry-eyed. It’s just what every girl dreams of.
But Lucy’s decided that since Prince Charming is taking his sweet time showing up, she’ll have to take what she can get in the meantime. So she’s accepted Peter’s terms of engagement.
He rolls up in his flashy white Porsche and climbs the stairs. Lucy waits for him at the top. It’s just like that scene at the end of Pretty Woman except that Peter is shorter and has far less hair than Richard Gere. Also Richard Gere brought flowers, while Peter has come empty handed. Nice to see he’s made an effort, she sighs.
When Peter reaches the top of the stairs, he goes straight in for a full-on snog. They kiss in the stairwell for a while, until Lucy realises that the family who live opposite may be watching through their peephole. She ushers him inside before they scar the young children for life.
Lucy and Peter sit on the sofa. Lucy has a large glass of wine. Lucy is sure wine makes her sexier. At least, she thinks it makes her sexier. Which is kind of the same thing. Peter has orange juice. Clearly he will not be staying the night. Sex AND a good night’s sleep, thinks Lucy. Win.
Lucy and Peter both know he is only there for one thing. But they pretend to chat and be interested in each other’s lives.
“How has your week been?” she enquires.
“Pretty stressful,” he replies. “Work has been extra busy because of that disaster that’s been all over the news in which dozens of people died.”
Peter needs to work on his chat-up technique.
Lucy wants to tell Peter how infuriating she found it that he didn’t reply to her messages last time. She also wants to know why he sometimes sends enthusiastic replies but then vanishes for days, and why he’s so hard to pin down to a date.
I’m literally offering no-strings sex, she thinks. You should be chasing me, not the other way round.
But Lucy knows that if she says any of this stuff she will come across as needy or nagging. Instead she must pretend to be cool and sexy and a little bit hard to get. Guys like that.
So she puts her glass down and takes off her top.
They have sex twice. Despite having been hard to pin down, now he’s here Peter seems very enthusiastic – and he’s also extremely chatty. He seems to like describing what’s going on in graphic detail, narrating what he’s doing, what’s going where, how it all feels… Lucy finds it slightly offputting. It’s nice to have feedback but she’s not sure she needs a running commentary. It’s a bit like what watching the horse racing must be like – if horse racing was on a porn channel.
Lucy only knows three positions, but Peter seems keen to try out several more. Lucy’s fine with this, although she’s not too keen about being on top. It means she has to remember to hold her stomach in. I must start doing more sit-ups, she thinks.
She tries sitting up tall and running her hands through her hair like they do in the movies. Is this supposed to make her boobs look more pert? It might work if you’re a movie star with unfeasibly round breasts, she thinks. Sadly if Lucy is like anyone off the telly, it’s Monica from Friends.
Afterwards, they lie together on Lucy’s bed. Lucy idly strokes Peter’s chest. She notices that he has quite a lot of body hair, but he has completely shaved his pubes. Lucy panics: was she supposed to have shaved hers? Is this what the etiquette is these days? Lucy doesn’t think this is the sort of thing she can ask her friends.”You’re quite hairy, aren’t you?” she observes.
“I’m actually hairier than this really,” he replies. “But I trim it with a body hair trimmer.”
Lucy has never heard of such a thing.
“It’s like hair clippers for your head, except for your body. You can set it to any length you like and then you can just trim all over.”
Peter seems to have gone for Grade 3 or 4 for his legs and arms, and Grade 1 for the pubic region.
That’s an awful lot of hair, she marvels. How on earth does he keep his drains clear?
She hopes she never finds out what he’d look like without the trimmer.
Lucy goes to the bathroom, and catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her nose and chin are rubbed red from Peter’s stubble.
I look awful, she grumbles. How come this never happens in the movies?
Lucy wonders if she should put some more make up on to cover it up. Then she remembers she’s supposed to be not giving a fuck. So she doesn’t bother.
Lucy tells Peter that she thinks they should just use each other for sex, regularly.
Peter says he feels violated but clearly he’s delighted.
“What, so we’re going to be friends with benefits?” he asks.
Lucy’s not sure they are really friends.
“We could be friends too, but we might have to keep our clothes on for that part.”
They decide to just do benefits. That’s assuming Peter doesn’t just disappear again.
(To find out what happened next, click here)