Page 1 of Can I Tell You Something?
Chapter 1
Hannah
ForaslongasI can remember, Christmas has always meant three things: snow, skiing, and sugar cookies.
Ever since I was a baby, my family has spent Christmas and New Year at my grandma’s chalet in the French Alps. The first thing we’d do when we arrived in the sleepy mountain village was head straight to thepatisseriefor cookies. And since my brother, Ryan, isn’t joining us this year,again, that means I’ll get to eat them all by myself.
At least, that’s the positive spin I’m putting on spending Christmas alone with my parents.
I could stay in London, but the thought of waking up in my poky little flat alone on Christmas morning is too depressing. My grandma is sadly no longer with us, and though Dad suggested I bring a friend, I’ve been working so hard I haven’t been keeping up with my social circle much. Plus, it’s always beenour place.I wouldn’t love it so much if I were hyper analysing our annual traditions through the eyes of an interloper.
Truthfully, I need this trip, and I need a break. My first year as a lawyer has been intense, and I feel guilty about taking time off. The workload will only get heavier, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit the mountains again after this year. Ryan certainly finds it difficult now that he’s working out in L.A.
My brother moved to California for film school a few years ago, and now he’s working hard to make a name for himself in TV production. In fact, he’s working so hard he didn’t make it home last year, nor the year before that, and he’s not making this one either. Which means I haven’t seen my brother in three years, and… ugh. I swallow hard and fix a smile on my face as I inch along in the queue.
I know that’s what’s really getting me down, but I can’t push the thought away. A lifetime of Christmases in the happiest place in the world will soon become a distant memory. No more competing for top speed, no stuffing ourselves with fondue, and no sledging home from dinner in the dark.
It’s the end of an era, another thing outside of my control. Much like the dark clouds threatening to delay my flight.
London City airport is packed with businessmen frantically typing and aggressively shouting into their phones as they shuffle their way through long security lines. I swear this is the most testosterone filled airport in the country, and every briefcase owner in London is escaping for winter break.
I briefly wonder where all their luggage is, before remembering I’m amongst the one percent here. Men who aren’t quite wealthy enough to justify a private jet, but likely have holiday homes stocked with every outfit they could possibly need, including the latest winter sports gear. And a driver to collect them once we land in Geneva, of course.
I can hardly judge them. I am off to my family’s chalet after all, but ours is small by Alpine standards. My ski gear lives there all year round, but I’ve still had to cram everything I need into my cabin sized bag, lest I get stiffed for fees on both legs of the journey. Fortunately, it’s mostly comfy loungewear and I’ll enjoy a visit to a French pharmacy to stock up on toiletries and skincare.
After collecting my hand luggage from security, thankfully without being stopped for an extra bag check, I weave my way through the Duty Free shop.
I’m tempted by a giant Toblerone. We used to beg Dad to buy them for us, but he always refused and told us the artisanal, handmade chocolates we could buy in the mountains would be worth the wait. He wasn’t wrong, and I’ve been a snob about chocolate ever since, but those chunky triangles still have a certain allure.
Gin, however, that I certainly will need if I’m to survive two weeks alone with parents who will only want to talk about my career plans and lack of relationship status. I can hardly wait to be ambushed before I’ve even taken off my coat. I pay for two bottles of Malfy and scroll Instagram as I weave through the crowds.
The departures board has no gate listed, so I’m early enough for a glass of champagne and a spot of people watching. After ordering, I nab a high stool along the bar that faces out towards the crowds and settle in.
Several extremely attractive men stroll by. There are those in suits and tailored wool coats, others in dark jeans that hug them in all the right places, shirt buttons open at the collar just so. Some are alone, others are in a group, frenetic chatter that suggests they’re also about to kick back and enjoy some downtime together. One man catches my eye as he walks towards me, a dazzling smile spread across his clean-shaven face.
A girl could do well for herself in a place like this. A girl with confidence and charisma, that is. I’m cursed to flush beetroot red and look down at my feet until he passes me by.
My dating life is abysmal, and that’s nobody’s fault but my own. I’ve dabbled with apps, and agreed to being set up a few times, but no man can scratch my particular itch.
The truth is, I have deep-rooted trust issues. That and I’m already in all-consuming love with a man who lives on the other side of the world, has no idea I exist, and makes me come multiple times a night.
And if I want him, as I often do, all I have to do is push in my earbuds, and there he is, ready to whisper the most delicious filth straight into my ears.
You see, the man of my dreams is American audio erotica voice actor,Mac’n’Please.
In my search for sexual stimulation a little less aggressive than mainstream pornography, I found audio porn on Reddit a couple of years ago. Entire libraries of creators work featuring every fantasy you could ever think of, plus plenty I could never have come up with on my own. There are sexy stories, creator confessions, guided masturbation tutorials, and even comfort audios to soothe you into a blissful sleep. I can’t tell you exactly what drew me to Mac, except that after two minutes of listening to his voice, I was more turned on than I’d ever been with any man in real life.
I’ve been shamefully addicted ever since. Not that seeking sexual gratification is anything to be ashamed of, but it’s not the sort of thing you bring up at parties. Though at this point, I’d rather spend my evenings at home listening to men moaning than pretending to be confident enough for parties.
Me:Just boarded
Ryan:Safe travels
My brother’s blunt replies are a new thing, mostly caused by a heavy workload. When we both lived at home our parents couldn’t shut us up. Now, I’m half convinced I’d never hear from him if I didn’t force him to call me and check in once a week.
Me:Sure I can’t change your mind?
Ryan:Afraid not. Work is crazy busy right now
