Deviant by Jaimie Roberts Page B

seven-thirty when there was a knock on the door. I rushed over, glass of red wine in hand, and took a sneaky sip before opening the door. “Ian,” I sang.
    “For me?” he asked, grabbing the wine glass and drinking it down in one gulp.
    “Ian! You’re so fucking rude.”
    Coming in for a quick kiss on the cheek, he lingered. “Do you know how hard you make me when you talk with that filthy mouth of yours?”
    Pushing him away, I scowled. “Funny enough, it only seems to be you that brings out my filthy mouth.”
    Placing his hand on his heart, he smiled. “I am honoured.” I giggled, but then he was looking in the direction of the kitchen. With a big inhale, he looked back at me. “Spaghetti Bolognaise?”
    I nodded. “Yes, and no sneaking bits when I’m not looking.” He looked back at me, shocked. “Don’t give me that look, Ian. You know full well what I’m talking about. I’ve seen you.”
    Ian waved his hand in front of him. “Oh well, what can I say? You make a mean Spag Bol, and because you’ve made it tonight, I think I may let you get lucky.” Ian winked at me, but I just rolled my eyes.
    Ian and I had been in a position several times where we could have gone all the way…so many parties and so much fooling around. I think Ian was the only man who had seen all of me without it going further than a bit of playful banter. We had been friends for so long, we knew our boundaries. We knew when to stop. I knew that whenever Ian joked about us sleeping together, it was just that. He would never take it further than the odd grope when he got drunk. And it always seemed to stem from parties when we were both drunk. It was like the running joke that whenever we were out together, it would end up with us snogging or feeling each other up. It was a strange friendship, to say the least, but it worked. We didn’t want more than what we had because we didn’t want to spoil it. We loved each other, but not in the sense that we would get married and have babies anytime soon. Although Ian had joked that if we hit thirty and neither of us had found anyone, we would get hitched. I kind of agreed because I was drunk at the time and thought it was funny. There seemed to be a running pattern.
    “So, what have you been up to the last couple of days? How did your night go last night? Did you get lucky?”
    Walking towards the kitchen, I shook my head, smiling. “I did meet someone, but it didn’t go past second base.” I poured us another glass, handing Ian his.
    “Do you know how boring that is?”
    I gasped. “Ian, who is making you dinner here?”
    He shook his head and pouted. “I’m sorry. I would just love to hear you talk about having sex with another man.”
    “Pervert!” I scolded.
    “I try my best,” he smiled cheekily.
    “So you met someone last night and you never went past second base?” I shook my head. “What about Louisa?”
    Come to think of it, she never mentioned it in her email. I think she was too excited about this party next Saturday.
    “She didn’t mention it when she emailed earlier. She was too busy screaming that she had finally gotten an invite for her and a guest to attend the mansion next Saturday.”
    Ian gaped at me, mouth wide open. “You are shitting me!” I shook my head. “Louisa got an invite to the mansion?” I nodded. “And she can bring a guest?” I nodded again. “Shit, what’s her number again? I want to go with her.”
    I sipped my wine and smiled. To be honest, I wasn’t really bothered about going myself. It seemed everyone else was fighting over an invite. If it were my choice, I would let him go, but I knew Louisa would have none of it.
    “I’m sorry, Ian. Louisa’s plus one is already taken.” I smiled cheekily at him.
    “Bitch!”
    Slapping him across the arm, I growled, “Hey, I can’t help it if she prefers me to you.”
    Ian bit his fingernails as I stirred the Bolognaise. “Maybe I should offer her oral sex. Do you think she would