Page 284 of Hell Hath No Fury
“I’m a solicitor.” I’m taken back by the question and the eagerness of all their expressions.
“Oh, you’re so much more than that. You may as well have worn a cape for the impact you had on us ladies last night,” Philippa adds.
“So, do you? Could you teach us?” Cheryl urges.
“You want to learn how to throw a bullwhip? Why?” I’m so confused. These yoga pant wearing, bran muffin eating vegan mums want me to teach them how to throw a whip. Then again, why not? I’m just as guilty of judging them as Stephanie was of judging me.
“It’s not so much the whip, just the whole empowering thing. You owned that room and—” Sara’s tone is filled with as much awe as Mary just a few minutes ago. It’s hugely flattering and odd at the same time.
“Yeah. I mean you’re stunningly beautiful, but that confidence, I could use some of that.” Becky says.
“And wielding a whip would do that?” I can’t hide the scepticism in my tone.
“We need something or everything is just going to go back to usual when you leave. Stephanie will regroup and—” Milly’s mum pleads.
“Okay, okay, you had me at stunningly beautiful.” I joke, waving them down from full-on begging at the school gate.
“Really? You’ll teach us all?” Cheryl is clapping excitedly in anticipation.
“I guess,”
“Oh, my god, that’s fantastic. My husband is going to flip. We had the best sex we’ve had in years last night, we were both so turned on,” Milly’s mum blurts.
“Oh, right, we’re into sharing already.” I grimace and find myself taking a slight step back.
“Sorry, it’s just—” Milly’s mum shrugs. Her cheeks are bright pink, only she doesn’t seem embarrassed; she looks relieved, joyful even.
“Us too.” Philippa and Becky are nodding.
“And me.” Sara raises her hand and the remainder follow.
“Not sure what you unleashed last night, Sam, but I can tell you, for one, my husband is a big fan.” Cheryl grins.
“You know I’ve heard this happen before, women reading steamy novels getting their spark back. I think life just gets in the way and—” Mary pipes up, a huge grin plastered on her face.
“Okay, sex therapy next week, ladies. One thing at a time.” I flap my hands slowly to stem the oversharing.
“So next week?” Cheryl asks, flips her phone open and searches the diary screen.
“Um, it’s Christmas next week.” I point out.
“Oh, yes, of course. Maybe in the new year. We can meet up and sort some diary dates?”
“Like play dates, but for us girls.” Sara says excitedly.
“Just us girls,” they all join in. Seemingly satisfied, they begin to walk away. Some give a slight wave, and a few step in and give me a hug when they say goodbye. I’m stunned, and only when I’ve walked numbly to the end of the road, do I turn to face Mary.
“What just happened?”
“You got girlfriended.” She beams, threading her arm in mine and pulling me along toward our local coffee bar.
“That’s a new one on me.”
“Embrace the sisterhood. They’re a nice bunch.” She assures me. She laughs when I seem unable to get past the unprecedented turn of events. My feet won’t seem to move. She tugs me forward. “Come on, let’s get you some coffee.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The luxurious bubbles reach my chin, surrounding me in the rich fragrant aroma of jasmine and acacia berries, whatever acacia berries smell like. It’s heavenly, and the searing hot water is draining every last ounce of tension from my muscles. Jason brought in a chilled glass of wine about five minutes ago, thus securing his spot in the best husband hall of fame, and ensuring I am never getting out of this bath. He’s sitting on the chair at the end of our oversized roll top tub, his fingers languidly stroking whatever skin he can reach, which is mostly my feet and sometimes an occasional calf when I lift my leg high to cool down.
