Love is a Place Ch. 02: The Solution - Sex Stories

Love is a Place Ch. 02: The Solution

... but it's cheap.

This Christmas is going to suck. Next year is going to suck.

I cry in the shower. Then I cry into the pillow. Sleep doesn't come for hours and, when it does, it brings no peace at all.

* * *

Christmas Eve, I'm coming back from grabbing a pint of milk when I see them up ahead. Samantha and her parents. They are letting themselves into the flat.

She must have forgotten something. I retreat and hide behind a parked van, where I can see their car.

40 minutes later it's still parked there. I'm frozen.

I'm due on shift in 2 hours anyway. Might as well go in early.

Mike lets me make myself some late breakfast in the kitchen. He's a good guy. It's busy, so he lets me start work an hour early.

It's during a lull when the phone rings. A new girl I don't know well, Molly I think, answers, then she's looking around, the handset held to her shoulder.

"Errr... you're Sarah, right?"

I start waving my hands and making the cut getsure. She looks at me quizzically.

"Tell them I'm not here. Take a number," I hiss.

"Oh, okay," she lifts the receiver. "Hi? Sorry, she's not here. Can I take a number and have her call you? Uh huh. Ok. Got it. Your name was...?"

"Thanks," I mouth as she passes me the paper. I ignore her raised eyebrow inquiry.

Ugh, it was Rachael, Samantha's mum. Phew, glad I avoided that. I really didn't want to be yelled at while at work. Even worse, she might have turned up here. Like I want all my colleagues to know ...

... what a disgusting cow I am.

The rest of the day predictably sucks. Surrounded by groups of friends celebrating Christmas Eve. Nobody here for me. Nobody at home. I go through the motions like a reanimated corpse.

I feel like getting blind drunk. I don't. Can't afford to lose the job. Every time somebody buys me a drink I charge them for a vodka tonic, pour myself a soda water and pocket the difference. I'm going to need the cash. A guy with a Tintin quiff in a pink Ralph Lauren shirt keeps flirting with me. I'm tempted to just go home with him. Gotta be better than going home alone.

I suck. My life sucks. Maybe I should just embrace it and, well, suck.

* * *

It's 1am, Christmas morning. I drag myself up the stairs to our flat. Soon no longer to be. I'm tired and heartsick. I feel wrung out, like an old rag; no tears left to cry. No emotions left at all.

As soon as I turn on the light in the sitting area I burst into tears. Guess I did have something left.

There on the sofa in front of the door are a pile of presents. Tupperware filled with muffins. Boxes of biscuits. Bags of kettle crisps. A jar of olives. Two bottles of wine.

These have to be from Sarah. She doesn't hate me. The weight I've been carrying these last few days is suddenly lifted from my soul, and all the feelings, all the fear, I've been trying to keep pressed down and locked away breaks out. I slump down on my heels and sob with relief and happiness, gripping the arm of the sofa as I ...