Desiree Baxter walked out of her fourth relationship in eight years on the eve of her 28th birthday fed up, determined to enter a convent although she wasn't sure they accepted agnostics.
The problem was men only wanted to fuck her; she wanted them to also love her. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently.
Oh, each one of those four men – and some others in between the gaps – had been great a fucking but they tended to only love their moms, their cars and themselves.
Desiree loved to fuck too, but after gushing fluid she found herself looking for more. A cuddle would be nice rather than 'him' reaching for the newspaper or actually leaving her to watch from mindless game of football on the idiot box.
She knew was love was all about; she read about it in weepy paperbacks and had her heart wrenched and elated watching it in eye-dabbing films. She classified herself as an incurable romantic without really knowing what that meant.
A feeling similar to orgasm perhaps?
Her mom loved serving her daddy her meals, even after all these years. Was that love? Difficult to tell – her mom adored to cook. She was sure that it wasn't love her father had for those sluts he and Toby Winters took up to Toby's mountain cabin.
Two days later, living briefly with her parents who really did appear to live separate lives, Desiree moved into a room in Agnes Browns' small apartment. The first night they mixed some martinis and ended up crying over Desiree's dilemma, Agnes pontificating that it really wasn't a dilemma because no man was worth loving; she'd found love in the arms of a co-worker, Maddy. "But you'll never meet Maddy – we are just so secretive."
Two weeks later Agnes said, "I'm going home on Friday afternoon for the weekend. Want to come?"
"No," Desiree sighed, "I'll just get my nails done."
"You're coming with me, and that's that," Agnes said firmly, almost aggressively, making Desiree conclude Agnes wore the strap-on when she was with Maddy.
They went to King Springs, a small resort serving town. The Brown's house was actually a cottage, a very pretty one, painted beautifully with climbing roses over the entrance.
Claire and Henry Brown came out to greet them warmly, followed by Agnes's brother Clive, assistant general manager at the Kings Springs Country Club, who scowled at Desiree but managed a smile when attempted to break her fingers in the greeting handshake.
Agnes and Desiree were to share a room, single beds Desiree hoped. Brother and sister went off with the bags and as the pleasantries with the parents commenced Desiree cringed, hearing Clive shout, "Why did you have to bring frigid face with you and have me thrown out of my room?"
"Because I'm entitled to friends and anyway, have you noticed the tits?"
"Yeah, but I don't even like giving up my room for a decent pair of handgrips."
"You're foul."
"You're gay."
Mrs Brown sighed, "Oh dear, the settling in period, in a couple of hours it will be normal between those two again. Clive is convinced Agnes is having it off with women at her workplace. Have you seen them in action?"
"She's never had another woman in the apartment during my time there and I have my own room."
"Oh, thank goodness for that, but on the other hand perhaps it's safer these days woman with woman."
"It's bloody unnatural if you ask me," grunted Mr Brown lifting down his newspaper a little.
"No-one is asking you, dear. Agnes says you compose the wording for advertisements."
"Yes, I do work in an ad agency as creative director."
"Is that above the person who writes the words."
"A little," Desiree smiled. "I love your cottage; it's so beautifully looked after. A prime place."
"That's lovely of you to say so. Here come the kids. Open the wine, Henry."
Clive entered behind Agnes and immediately eyed Desiree's breasts which told her he'd lied to his sister and hadn't noticed them. What a typical male cheat.
"Oliver's calling in for a drink," he grunted.
Agnes rolled her eyes and referred to him as Dolly Ollie, She said in a loud whisper to Desiree, "He's sex mad; will do anything on two legs."
"How is it he's missed me," giggled her mother.
Everyone laughed.
"The truth is he doesn't much like women; we think he's gay," said Mrs Brown.
"You guys don't know what you're talking about," Clive snorted. "He often takes out one of his sister's friends. Just because he doesn't shaft them on the first date doesn't mean he's gay."
They heard a motor-cycle draw up. The door opened and a shaggy blond guy with misty blue eyes and a great tan said, "Hi everyone. Spare a drink for a thirsty guy?"
Desiree emitted a secret sigh and squeezed her thighs together; if she was going to be fucked this weekend she hoped it would be this guy; he was gorgeous. Fleetingly she prayed he wasn't gay and would notice her. The guy ought to be in films.
Harry stood and held out a glass of wine. At that moment Ollie saw Desiree. He was looking at a slim and stylish vision with fair hair and intensely green eyes, wide mouth and cute smile.
"Ohmigod."
Desiree's cheeks flamed and because of the intensity of the way he said that, spilled her drink. Mrs Brown fussed off to fetch a cloth.
"She's my friend Desiree. Desiree this is Oliver Roth," Agnes said. "Everyone calls him Ollie. Go sit beside her, Ollie."
"No, sit with me, Ollie," Clive countered.
