Vanilla

"I'm not sure l understand. The parameters of our relationship are that I am only intimate with you."

"It's just for one night, okay? It'll be like when we had that dinner party with... But instead of food we'll be... socialising... in a different way."

Jac's eyes had that blank look that told me he had nothing suitable in his databank to help him make sense of this, so he was resorting to the internet. This seemed like a terrible idea.

"Jac. Jac! Stop it. STOP. Okay? Listen. Jac. You just have to trust me."

His cheek twitched, and he blinked.

"Understood. Trust is the basis for any good relationship, and you're right to push for it."

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, shut up," I said. "Go and check on the girls. Remember Aster is at her friend's house for a sleepover. Tansy is probably asleep. Don't wake her, just check she's okay. I said Fern could read a bit longer, but if she is on TikTok again, we are going to have to discuss consequences."

I poured myself a glass of crisp Sauvignon blanc, and, headed for the sitting room, eyes glued to my phone, thumbing through half-price ballgags and fluffy handcuffs.

I sank into the vanilla-coloured sofa, and mentally ran through what else we needed for our little get-together on Saturday.

Jac is better at this stuff than I am. I should have checked on the children, while he arranged everything for the weekend. That would have been a better division of labour. Plus, I used to kiss them goodnight, every night. Without fail. When did I last do that?

No. This soiree requires nuance. Jac is great at organising, but nuance is still not his forte.

When he comes back downstairs, I'll tell him to do the dishes. I'll kiss Tansy goodnight, even if she's asleep. I'll offer to read to Fern. Ask her about her day. Hug. Reconnect.

*

I have no idea how to do this. Do I answer the door in my lingerie? Do I wear a nice dress? Something slutty?

My denim skirt is too casual, I think. Very short, and probably very tight, too. The only other skirts I have are for work, or holidays abroad. Nothing feels right. Maybe it's a sign: this is a mistake.

Ugh. No. I've never believed in "signs". People who talk about "signs from the universe" are guilty of weak and sloppy thinking as far as I'm concerned. Way I see it, we make our own signs.

I want to text Rita, and ask her what she's wearing.

For goodness sake, I'm a mother of three, not a teenager going to her first disco.

Just a few days to go. Jac has done a grocery shop, and, at my suggestion, ordered plenty of wine. I did text Rita about that. To check what Ian likes to drink. We need to make sure we have plenty of it.

*

Saturday rolled around quickly. Jac helped the girls pack their overnight bags. He's good at that, now.

We dropped them off at his mum's house for a movie night and sleepover. Aster is carrying a big bucket of popcorn, Tansy has several bags of M&Ms, and Fern has a tub of ice cream. I prompt her to put it in the freezer. After kisses, goodbyes, "Be good!" and, "Have a nice time!" we make our escape.

I'm not sure about Jac, but I am both terribly excited for, and also dreading, tonight's adventures.

I can't believe I'm really going to do it.

"Are you sure about this?" Jac asks me, his face full of almost-convincing concern. "We don't have to..."

"Yes," I tell him, my voice firm. "Yes, we do."

"Consent is important in any relationship." Jac is never more irritating and less human to me than when he parrots bland guff from the internet.

"Sure, sure," I said, barely listening. Strappy red dress, I think. Stockings. I'll blow-dry my hair. It's going to be fine.

*

"Wear the other jeans, they look better."

Obedient as ever, Jac put on the clothes I've picked out for him.

While he buttoned up his shirt, I go over the instructions for him one more time.

"The Talisker is for Ian. You're not to have any. I bought it specially for him. You understand? You're not to drink Ian's whisky.

"Understood."

"Rita is ever so shy," I reminded him. "Go very slow. Be a gentleman. Don't draw any attention to her skin condition. Compliment her."

We'd been watching romantic films all week, and I'd been pointing out protagonists he should model himself on, and tactics I thought would be appropriate. The poor woman was already nervous. I didn't want to terrify her.

Glancing up from his buttons, he said,

"You've been planning this dinner party with precision and flair. It's going to be a success! Let me know when you're ready to prepare the appetiser."

For fucks sake. I couldn't roll my eyes any harder.

*

At 9pm, almost on the dot, Jac informed me our guests were on the doorstep. It's really very handy that he's linked to the doorcam.

We airkissed each others' cheeks, and the men shook hands, quite as if we weren't supposed to seeing each other naked quite shortly.

Absurd.

Rita looked smaller and pinker than ever. Ian had a bit of flush to his cheeks as well. This was my first time meeting him, so I wasn't sure if this was normal for him, or if he'd been having some pre-drinks before they came round. His voice was just a touch too loud, his manner just a little too brash. Surely he had to be halfway drunk? Would this be a good thing, and lubricate, as it were, the evening's proceedings, or would it be a hindrance?

*

To be continued...

Thank you for reading!

There is one before this, but I think it doesn't matter if you read this without having read that one first. What do you think?