Page 11 of Festive Flings

“She wouldn’t do anything silly, right? She will have told someone where she is going and who she’s going with? You know she’s never dated anyone except for Carl.” I am hoping my questions portray me as a concerned boss rather than a creepy stalker, but Jamie’s safety is more important than office gossip.

“Oh, shit! I didn’t even think. She's been so wound up about something today. She asked me to set her up, and I threatened her with Jason when she annoyed me. So she told me to shove it because she would find her own date. I’ll call her now. We’ll find her.”

My heart is pounding. She was right there in front of me, and I was too busy being jealous to think to question her about who she was going out with.

Tim gets his phone and tries calling her, but she doesn’t answer. My stomach turns and fills with knots of anxiety. “I’ll check her socials, hold on.” He scrolls through the different platforms before shouting, “Bingo! She checked in at The Ivy; it’s just down the road. Come on.”

I run after Tim who leads us down the stairs, out of the building and down the road. “It's on the next block,” he shouts back and we both slow down as we approach the restaurant.

I hear Jamie before I see her. She is shouting angrily at someone. “You dirty, twisted, little pervert. If I ever see you again, I will chop off your bollocks and make you eat them. You make me sick.” She almost runs into us as she turns to leave.

“Woah, Jamie, what’s going on?” Tim holds her arms to steady her as he asks the question.

Jamie recoils at the sight of us. “What are you two doing here? Did you follow me? Are there any decent men in this fucking city? Leave me alone!”

She runs away, flagging a hackney cab and speeding out of our view, and I have never felt so desperately heartbroken as I do watching her go. I’ve definitely messed up my chances now.

~ Jamie ~

This day just keeps getting worse. It's hard to believe how much of an idiot I am. How many times must I fall for all the bullshit men feed me before I realise that there are no good ones; they are all bastards.

As I cry in the taxi home, the driver tries to talk to me twice before I tell him to fuck off and leave me alone. I set up the date all by myself, and I had been proud that I had been able to not only do it by myself but do it so fast.

The man I ‘met’ said his name was Harry, he looked gorgeous, the body of a Greek god and devastatingly handsome. I had already decided I was going to sleep with him, so that Carl was no longer the last and only person I’ve ever had sex with.

When I arrived at the bar, I couldn’t see Harry anywhere, so I bought myself a drink and waited for him to arrive when a man in his fifties approached me.

“You look even better in real life, love.” I gave him a tight smile and carried on waiting for Harry. “Are you going to give me a kiss, then? I’ve come all this way to see you and you act like the cat’s got your tongue.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” I told him impatiently. He laughed at me, so I frowned back at him. What the fuck was his problem?

“Jamie, it's me, it's Harry. Now, are you taking me back to your apartment to fuck me senseless or what?”

How could I have been so stupid and reckless? I am an idiot, and even Tim and Mr. Matthews know it now, too. I completely humiliated myself and I never want to leave my bed ever again.

Picking up the box Billie must have left for me, I let myself into my apartment where my cat, Smokey, greets me. It is cold and dark in this place I call home, and I have never felt so alone.

~ Billie ~

My talk with Jonty is going better than I expected. He is hard and excited just from talking about the fun we will have if we allow our boundaries to widen again. For the past year, our sex life has been so monotonous, and I know if I’m honest there has been more than once I imagined him fucking another partner. All three of us together or Jonty watching me screwing someone else. The possibilities are endless.

Jonty has always been sexy. I was 22 years old when we met, and he was almost 30. Some of the things I found most attractive were that he was older, more experienced, and definitely more open to new adventures than anyone I had ever met.

Now, Jonty is 41 years old; he has aged well. He is a distinguished silver fox. He is still toned and fit and even more handsome, like a good aged wine. I am looking forward to reigniting the flame between us.

We make love after our talk, and it is hard, fast and ferocious between us. There is more passion and enthusiasm in this single act than I have felt in a long time. It is so hot and it sets my soul alight. I want more; I need more. I want it all with him, and now I know he wants it too.

He agrees to us looking into a third party, and my insides churn in desire and need. We enjoyed many threesomes in the past. I enjoyed the times we had with another female, but I quickly grew bored of that. I want a variety of girls and a second man to join our bed again, and Jonty is willing to facilitate that.

The memory of the first time I slept with two men at the same time comes rushing back and I have to squeeze my knees together to ease the throbbing in my core.

~*~ Flashback ~*~

~~~ Nine and a Half Years Ago ~~~

We picked him from a catalogue. His name is Romeo, apparently, and he is young, dark-skinned, tall, toned and hung like a donkey. I lick my lips as I sit facing him, and notice that he looks up my skirt when I uncross my legs. I like that. A rush of excitement runs through me. I am desired, I feel sexy and dirty, and it thrills me.

“Okay, ground rules. I am happy for you two to engage in everything you desire apart from kissing on the lips. Is that clear?” Romeo quickly agrees but I frown. He’s happy for another man to fuck me but not kiss me?

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