Dial it Up

So, I’ve spent half the evening with a glass of Chardonnay and a dating app. What a bore. I’ve connected with a few guys but they are all so unfunny and predictable. I’ve been getting horny though and can’t think of what to do. I know! I’ll call Sherry. We go way back to boarding school. Whenever we get drunk and horny, we umm well, take care of each other’s needs. No time like the present for a booty call.

‘Hey Sherry! Wazzup?’ I say enthusiastically when she picks up the phone, ‘Do you fancy coming over for some Netflix and chill?’ That’s our secret code.

She makes a variety of noises that sound like she’s thinking and then she says ‘Yeah! Why not? But I want to do something different. I’m bored of the same old same old. Let’s dial it up chick.’

I think about it and say, ‘I’ll come up with something. Just hop in a cab and get your arse over here!’

Sherry and I have both identified as bisexual since our teens. We just both enjoy sex and don’t really care what’s going on in the trouser department. There are enough toys out there to take care of any urge you could think of and while I love guys, sometimes they just annoy me. They take everything so fucking seriously sometimes. So, when I just want to have a good time without the intensity, I always choose women.

I’m wondering what Sherry meant about dialing it up and then it occurs to me. I remember ages back talking about making it a threesome, but then we nixed it because we thought having someone else involved might create issues with our friendship. But now a thought was crossing my mind. I used to date a fella who I finally split with when I found out he was hiring escorts. I mean, nothing against escorts, but it’s what I was saying about guys. They are just annoying sometimes.

If we had talked about it, I might have been OK with it as he had, well, let’s say, some special needs that I didn’t particularly get off on. But instead, he snuck around behind my back and I don’t like sneaks and liars. So, we split up. But I do remember the escort company he used and if it was good enough for him, why not me? I wonder if they service women.

I grab my glass and move over to the table and my laptop. I want to look at this page properly. I find the page for Cleopatra Escorts and boom! That’s what I’m talking about. They even tell you whether they are bisexual or not. By the time Sherry knocks on the door, I already have a few girls in mind to invite to our little party.

I answer the door, put a glass of wine into Sherry’s hand, take the other one, pull a chair up next to mine at the table and pat it for her to sit down. She doesn’t say anything. She looks at the page, I’ve got pulled up and looks back at me. Smiling with a very naughty glint in her eye, she says ‘Now that’s dialing it up!’

‘So’, I say. ‘Which one is it?’ I flick between the half a dozen women I’ve selected as good options and she seems to take a liking to a French girl. I poke her and giggle, ‘You like the Frenchie. You like the Frenchie.’ She’d had a crush on a French girl in school and that’s what I used to say to her then.

She slaps my hand away, gets up and goes over to the settee. ‘Just book her already. I don’t want to get too drunk before she gets here.’ She reaches over to the bottle on coffee table and tops up her glass, licking the edge suggestively.

I fill out the form, which seems pretty easy, explaining that we were a female couple. I wonder if girls like us do this often. I wonder if she’ll look like her photos. I realise I’m starting to get nervous and I plop down next to Sherry on the settee, switch on the telly and we try to pretend we are watching it while we both wait.

Sherry’s nodding off on my shoulder, when there is a knock on the door. I gently extract myself from under her and lay her down on the sofa and go to answer the door. Our date has arrived! I almost forgot I’d made the booking. I shake the wine bleariness out of my head as I invite her inside and take her coat. I realise I’m trembling a bit. Shit. This is like a first date or something.

We haven’t said a word yet and I awkwardly hold out a hand to shake hers and introduce myself. She takes my hand as she looks into my eyes, pulls me towards her and kisses me, and I mean like proper kisses me. I definitely remember booking her now. She tastes sweet like some sort of drink. Wait. I know. Baileys. She tastes a bit like Baileys, which I love. I look over at Sherry, still crashed on the settee and I decide not to wake her. At least for now.

We carry on making out for a few minutes and undress each other as we do. She whispers crazy sexy things into my ear in her French accent and gets me gushing. I put my finger to my lips, so she understands to stay quiet, look guiltily over at Sherry, and then lead her up the stairs to my bedroom. Once we get there, we waste no time in getting to know each other’s desires and before I know it, I’m on my back with her head between my legs. My eyes are closed and I’m certainly not thinking of England, when I hear a gentle cough at the door.

I open my eyes, but my date doesn’t even lift her head and continues what she was doing. I look over and there is Sherry, standing stark bollock naked at the door, grinning like an imp that just found the Spanish Fly. Before I know it, she’s kneeling behind the French escort, turning us into a rather odd but very pleasurable human centipede.

We all take turns and, as we do, we get to know our lovely, and gorgeous French date, a little bit better. We’d only arranged for a 2 hour out call and having the utmost respect for our lovely visitor, her time and her professionalism, we made sure that we were all finished in plenty of time to allow her to freshen up before she had to leave.

By now it was about 11.30. She had a driver coming to collect her and we all got dressed. I offered her a glass of wine, which she refused but she kissed us both deeply, before putting on her coat and heading out into the cold night.

Sherry and I looked at each other and burst out into fits of laughter. She says ‘Did that just happen? I mean, you know, like, what just happened?’

I could barely speak because I was laughing so hard but managed to catch a few breaths. ‘Too right it did Sherry and you missed half of it. Never mind. We’ll need to do that again. That was crazy!’

We sat down on the settee, hand in hand, like we had, so many times before in our friendship, and fell asleep watching some rubbish on the telly.