You’ll have seen those bucket lists, you know, the ones which say Twenty Places To See Before You Die or Fifty Things To Do Before You’re Thirty.
Well, the heroine of my new novel The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green accidentally comes up with her own version - Ten Sex Education Lessons To Win Back Her Husband. Except, it doesn’t quite turn out like that!
You see, Frankie’s journey begins innocently enough because she’s head-over-sensible-heels married to her childhood sweetheart Jason. But when he produces a pair of black fluffy handcuffs in bed, she freaks out - she had always thought they were a perfect fit. It all comes crashing down when he tells her things have become boring and predictable - and asks for some time out.
She decides she needs to broaden her horizons to prove to him the grass is greener on her side. While she’s read Fifty Shades of Grey she doesn’t know how to translate the words into action. Step forward the adorable and funny Floyd, the brother of one of her best friends who’ve known one another for years. He helps her get to grips with nudey rudies over ten tender, sweet and yes, embarrassing and awkward, lessons.
Here’s the moment she unveils her bucket list to him - stand by for a cringeworthy bum-clencher which reveals how far she has to go to become the sex kitten she thinks she needs to be…
****
Frankie cleared her throat as the list shook in her trembling hands.
“So, I’ve called it, um, Frankie Green’s Sex Education and then in brackets I’ve put How Not To Be Boring In Bed,” she said more boldly than she felt.
Floyd nodded encouragingly. “Yes, good. I’m getting a sense of ownership from that. And it’s always handy to make a note of your name should you forget it.”
“Shush!” she said, laughing, despite herself, “I won’t do this if you’re going to take the piss.”
“All right, all right,” he said, laughing, holding his hands up by way of apology, “I’m sorry. Carry on.”
Frankie stared back at the sheet of paper to collect herself. Just treat it like an adult education class, she told herself. Some people learn a language, others do pottery - I’m signing up for lessons in loving, that’s all. And at least I don’t have to drink crap coffee in a drafty classroom full of strangers.
“As I was saying,” she said, “I’ve made a list of 10 things I need to do, that we need to do, um, would you mind closing your eyes or not looking at me because this is embarrassing.”
“Sure, no problem, in fact, why don’t I sit under the table and you can pretend I’m not here?”
“Yes, good idea,” Frankie said, delighted.
“I was joking,” he said before sighing, heaving himself up and squeezing under the table, tucking in legs and arms like a spider playing hide and seek.
“Ready?” she asked as the sound of him shuffling about finally stopped.
“Fire away! By the way, you know this is quite ridiculous because we are going to have to touch one another at some point?” came a voice from below.
“Look, I just need a run-up, that’s all,” she explained. “Right, so here I go. Number one, I’ve called it Not The Missionary and by that I mean I need some direction in positions other than lying flat on my back.”
His hand appeared out from beneath the table to ask a question.
“Yes?”
“Sorry. Can I just check something? Do you mean you’ve only ever done it like that? I’m not judging, I just need to clarify it so I know my starting point.”
Frankie was crestfallen. Even though she’d anticipated she’d feel like a freak and he was right to ask, it still stung.
“Well, that’s the only position I am properly familiar with,” she said, utterly grateful she didn’t have to look Floyd in the eye. “We got together young. We tried a few things at the beginning but then after 10 years you sort of fall into a pattern…”
“That’s fine, not a problem,” Floyd said. “Proceed.”
“Okay. Um, number two, that’s the…er…sixty-nine,” she said quietly because it was the rudest number in mathematics.
“What?” he said.
“The sixty-nine,” she repeated slightly louder.
“The sixty-nine?” he boomed.
“Yes,” she almost shouted, “thank you for making me feel even more mortified, Floyd.”
She heard a snigger and was tempted to boot him when he produced both hands from below in an act of surrender.
“I, um, chose this because I found it very hard to co-ordinate everything while things were going on downstairs. Legs and lips and hands and tongues and…well, I just got all tangled up that time we tried it.”
“That time you tried it? As in once?”
“You’re making me feel like a fridge, Floyd.”
“Sorry. Again. I’m just making sure, that’s all. The soixante-nerf is like learning to drive.”
She felt a pang of gratitude. Which dissolved quickly as he made references to “floppy gear sticks” and “erect handbrakes”.
She kicked at his body to show her disgust - it was time to move on. But as she drew breath she realised it was like leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Number three, spanking. I’ve never done this. I can’t really see how hitting someone or being hit would be pleasurable.”
“Righty-ho,” he said, “it is a niche area. It’s all about the spur of the moment, that one.”
That was a much better response, she thought, and it gave her a boost to carry on.
“Number four, something risky. Somewhere where we might get caught. Although even thinking about that makes me scared.”
“Right.”
“Number five, dressing up. But not as a naughty nurse or schoolgirl because that makes me want to throw up. Something else, I’m not sure what exactly.”
“We’ll find something,” he said, all business-like.
Amazingly, Frankie was beginning to feel empowered getting this off her chest and she was almost enjoying herself.
“Number six, erotica. I don’t mean watching porn because I’ve accidentally clicked on some sites and I don’t think I’ll ever eat cucumber again. But perhaps lap-dancing?”
“Lap is not erotica. It’s a bunch of office lads smirking over their stiffies. Leave it with me. Next?”
“Number seven, it’s talking…dirty.”
“As in, ‘I can’t believe how filthy the car is’?”
Frankie pursed her lips, knowing he was trying to get her to spell it out.
“Oh, I get it,” Floyd said, straight-faced, “‘ride me, you slut, and call me horsey’. That sort of thing?”
“Floyd!”
“Sorry! Next?”
“Number eight, um, orgasms because it didn’t really happen…at all…and it was clearly my fault and I was obviously not doing it right.”
“Well, I happen to think the opposite - it’s the man’s job to make sure of it. And really, this shouldn’t be a category by itself because hopefully we can approach it as we go.”
Frankie was stunned - it had never occurred to her that it was a joint concern. She’d thought it was her problem, not that she’d minded because it was all about that connection with Jason. But if there was a possibility every time, well, that would be nice.
“Number nine, sex toys. And I don’t even want to talk about this, it’s so frightening."
“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. Vibrators, love eggs, cock rings, you name it, I’ve done it. Although no strap-ons, right?”
“Strap-whats?”
“Forget it.”
Then he rubbed his hands as he said: “So what’s number 10? Is it something spectacular? Swinging from the chandeliers?”
“Not quite,” she said, pausing because this was the one she was most scared of. That’s why she’d left it until the end.
“It’s the bondage thing,” she said softly. “That was what Jason wanted to do the night he left. He had black fluffy handcuffs and even now, the thought of them makes me want to be sick. They were just so…tacky. But it feels like I need to do it to get over it, and there must be other ways, if you know what I mean. Oh, God. Why did I not just agree to it? Then we’d still be together.”
“Hey,” Floyd said, “don’t go off on one. And that isn’t true anyway,” he reminded her gently
And his hand was on her knee. “Small steps,” he said. “And whatever happens, we’ll always stick to the lesson plan, always. No add-ons, no deviations - it will give us boundaries and it will keep things professional. We don’t want either of us feeling things have got out of hand.”
His warm touch did something then to her body. There was a strength, a security even, flowing from him to her. Her worry seemed to drain away and for the first time she felt as though this arrangement was entirely possible. Maybe it was because she’d known him for so long - they already had an intimacy, a foundation on which to build.
Suddenly the pressure of his fingers changed. It was a subtle shift, setting off the hairs on the back of her neck, going from safe to…what was it? Sexy?.
Her breathing changed, it felt shallow from the nerves of anticipation but deep with something physical, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time. She shut her eyes and she was floating, swirling and rolling, as if she was underwater.
“AAARGH!”
“WHAT IS IT?” she shouted, jumping up, dancing around like she was on hot coals.
“I’ve got cramp in my leg, bloody bollocking cocking cramp, aaargh.”
He scrambled out from under the table and began hopping then hugging his limb while Frankie flapped her hands with adrenalin.
Finally, he stopped moaning.
“Well, that was good timing,” he said, sheepishly, ruffling his hair, then coughing and fidgeting with his T-shirt. “Sorry about that…I better, you know…shift it. If that’s okay?”
“Yep, fine,” Frankie said, still in a daze, “Hairdressing to do. Tomorrow. Work, I mean, so, yes, I’ll see you…soon, then.”
“Righti-ho,” he said, walking to the front door.
Frankie’s heart began palpitating. She needed to process what just happened and there was still the goodbye to come. Would he go to kiss her or offer a hug? She sincerely hoped not now, the moment had passed and if he did, she would most certainly die.
Instead, he crossed the threshold, turned back around and put out his hand.
Frankie was so relieved at the inappropriately appropriate offering that she shook it like a rattle.
“Laters,” he said, offering an entirely unnecessary salute. “I’ll be in…er…touch.”
Frankie shut the door and performed a full-on wide-mouthed silent scream.
And that’s just the start of it!
I hope it makes you want to read more and if you do, let me know what you think! I’m on Twitter @laurajanekemp so I can’t wait to hear from you. xxx
Thank you for sharing with us Laura Kemp. Having read the rest of the book I can assure you all it is as fabulous as the extract above makes it sound, and my review is also live on the blog today.
Well, the heroine of my new novel The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green accidentally comes up with her own version - Ten Sex Education Lessons To Win Back Her Husband. Except, it doesn’t quite turn out like that!
You see, Frankie’s journey begins innocently enough because she’s head-over-sensible-heels married to her childhood sweetheart Jason. But when he produces a pair of black fluffy handcuffs in bed, she freaks out - she had always thought they were a perfect fit. It all comes crashing down when he tells her things have become boring and predictable - and asks for some time out.
She decides she needs to broaden her horizons to prove to him the grass is greener on her side. While she’s read Fifty Shades of Grey she doesn’t know how to translate the words into action. Step forward the adorable and funny Floyd, the brother of one of her best friends who’ve known one another for years. He helps her get to grips with nudey rudies over ten tender, sweet and yes, embarrassing and awkward, lessons.
Here’s the moment she unveils her bucket list to him - stand by for a cringeworthy bum-clencher which reveals how far she has to go to become the sex kitten she thinks she needs to be…
****
Frankie cleared her throat as the list shook in her trembling hands.
“So, I’ve called it, um, Frankie Green’s Sex Education and then in brackets I’ve put How Not To Be Boring In Bed,” she said more boldly than she felt.
Floyd nodded encouragingly. “Yes, good. I’m getting a sense of ownership from that. And it’s always handy to make a note of your name should you forget it.”
“Shush!” she said, laughing, despite herself, “I won’t do this if you’re going to take the piss.”
“All right, all right,” he said, laughing, holding his hands up by way of apology, “I’m sorry. Carry on.”
Frankie stared back at the sheet of paper to collect herself. Just treat it like an adult education class, she told herself. Some people learn a language, others do pottery - I’m signing up for lessons in loving, that’s all. And at least I don’t have to drink crap coffee in a drafty classroom full of strangers.
“As I was saying,” she said, “I’ve made a list of 10 things I need to do, that we need to do, um, would you mind closing your eyes or not looking at me because this is embarrassing.”
“Sure, no problem, in fact, why don’t I sit under the table and you can pretend I’m not here?”
“Yes, good idea,” Frankie said, delighted.
“I was joking,” he said before sighing, heaving himself up and squeezing under the table, tucking in legs and arms like a spider playing hide and seek.
“Ready?” she asked as the sound of him shuffling about finally stopped.
“Fire away! By the way, you know this is quite ridiculous because we are going to have to touch one another at some point?” came a voice from below.
“Look, I just need a run-up, that’s all,” she explained. “Right, so here I go. Number one, I’ve called it Not The Missionary and by that I mean I need some direction in positions other than lying flat on my back.”
His hand appeared out from beneath the table to ask a question.
“Yes?”
“Sorry. Can I just check something? Do you mean you’ve only ever done it like that? I’m not judging, I just need to clarify it so I know my starting point.”
Frankie was crestfallen. Even though she’d anticipated she’d feel like a freak and he was right to ask, it still stung.
“Well, that’s the only position I am properly familiar with,” she said, utterly grateful she didn’t have to look Floyd in the eye. “We got together young. We tried a few things at the beginning but then after 10 years you sort of fall into a pattern…”
“That’s fine, not a problem,” Floyd said. “Proceed.”
“Okay. Um, number two, that’s the…er…sixty-nine,” she said quietly because it was the rudest number in mathematics.
“What?” he said.
“The sixty-nine,” she repeated slightly louder.
“The sixty-nine?” he boomed.
“Yes,” she almost shouted, “thank you for making me feel even more mortified, Floyd.”
She heard a snigger and was tempted to boot him when he produced both hands from below in an act of surrender.
“I, um, chose this because I found it very hard to co-ordinate everything while things were going on downstairs. Legs and lips and hands and tongues and…well, I just got all tangled up that time we tried it.”
“That time you tried it? As in once?”
“You’re making me feel like a fridge, Floyd.”
“Sorry. Again. I’m just making sure, that’s all. The soixante-nerf is like learning to drive.”
She felt a pang of gratitude. Which dissolved quickly as he made references to “floppy gear sticks” and “erect handbrakes”.
She kicked at his body to show her disgust - it was time to move on. But as she drew breath she realised it was like leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Number three, spanking. I’ve never done this. I can’t really see how hitting someone or being hit would be pleasurable.”
“Righty-ho,” he said, “it is a niche area. It’s all about the spur of the moment, that one.”
That was a much better response, she thought, and it gave her a boost to carry on.
“Number four, something risky. Somewhere where we might get caught. Although even thinking about that makes me scared.”
“Right.”
“Number five, dressing up. But not as a naughty nurse or schoolgirl because that makes me want to throw up. Something else, I’m not sure what exactly.”
“We’ll find something,” he said, all business-like.
Amazingly, Frankie was beginning to feel empowered getting this off her chest and she was almost enjoying herself.
“Number six, erotica. I don’t mean watching porn because I’ve accidentally clicked on some sites and I don’t think I’ll ever eat cucumber again. But perhaps lap-dancing?”
“Lap is not erotica. It’s a bunch of office lads smirking over their stiffies. Leave it with me. Next?”
“Number seven, it’s talking…dirty.”
“As in, ‘I can’t believe how filthy the car is’?”
Frankie pursed her lips, knowing he was trying to get her to spell it out.
“Oh, I get it,” Floyd said, straight-faced, “‘ride me, you slut, and call me horsey’. That sort of thing?”
“Floyd!”
“Sorry! Next?”
“Number eight, um, orgasms because it didn’t really happen…at all…and it was clearly my fault and I was obviously not doing it right.”
“Well, I happen to think the opposite - it’s the man’s job to make sure of it. And really, this shouldn’t be a category by itself because hopefully we can approach it as we go.”
Frankie was stunned - it had never occurred to her that it was a joint concern. She’d thought it was her problem, not that she’d minded because it was all about that connection with Jason. But if there was a possibility every time, well, that would be nice.
“Number nine, sex toys. And I don’t even want to talk about this, it’s so frightening."
“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. Vibrators, love eggs, cock rings, you name it, I’ve done it. Although no strap-ons, right?”
“Strap-whats?”
“Forget it.”
Then he rubbed his hands as he said: “So what’s number 10? Is it something spectacular? Swinging from the chandeliers?”
“Not quite,” she said, pausing because this was the one she was most scared of. That’s why she’d left it until the end.
“It’s the bondage thing,” she said softly. “That was what Jason wanted to do the night he left. He had black fluffy handcuffs and even now, the thought of them makes me want to be sick. They were just so…tacky. But it feels like I need to do it to get over it, and there must be other ways, if you know what I mean. Oh, God. Why did I not just agree to it? Then we’d still be together.”
“Hey,” Floyd said, “don’t go off on one. And that isn’t true anyway,” he reminded her gently
And his hand was on her knee. “Small steps,” he said. “And whatever happens, we’ll always stick to the lesson plan, always. No add-ons, no deviations - it will give us boundaries and it will keep things professional. We don’t want either of us feeling things have got out of hand.”
His warm touch did something then to her body. There was a strength, a security even, flowing from him to her. Her worry seemed to drain away and for the first time she felt as though this arrangement was entirely possible. Maybe it was because she’d known him for so long - they already had an intimacy, a foundation on which to build.
Suddenly the pressure of his fingers changed. It was a subtle shift, setting off the hairs on the back of her neck, going from safe to…what was it? Sexy?.
Her breathing changed, it felt shallow from the nerves of anticipation but deep with something physical, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time. She shut her eyes and she was floating, swirling and rolling, as if she was underwater.
“AAARGH!”
“WHAT IS IT?” she shouted, jumping up, dancing around like she was on hot coals.
“I’ve got cramp in my leg, bloody bollocking cocking cramp, aaargh.”
He scrambled out from under the table and began hopping then hugging his limb while Frankie flapped her hands with adrenalin.
Finally, he stopped moaning.
“Well, that was good timing,” he said, sheepishly, ruffling his hair, then coughing and fidgeting with his T-shirt. “Sorry about that…I better, you know…shift it. If that’s okay?”
“Yep, fine,” Frankie said, still in a daze, “Hairdressing to do. Tomorrow. Work, I mean, so, yes, I’ll see you…soon, then.”
“Righti-ho,” he said, walking to the front door.
Frankie’s heart began palpitating. She needed to process what just happened and there was still the goodbye to come. Would he go to kiss her or offer a hug? She sincerely hoped not now, the moment had passed and if he did, she would most certainly die.
Instead, he crossed the threshold, turned back around and put out his hand.
Frankie was so relieved at the inappropriately appropriate offering that she shook it like a rattle.
“Laters,” he said, offering an entirely unnecessary salute. “I’ll be in…er…touch.”
Frankie shut the door and performed a full-on wide-mouthed silent scream.
And that’s just the start of it!
I hope it makes you want to read more and if you do, let me know what you think! I’m on Twitter @laurajanekemp so I can’t wait to hear from you. xxx
Thank you for sharing with us Laura Kemp. Having read the rest of the book I can assure you all it is as fabulous as the extract above makes it sound, and my review is also live on the blog today.
 |
| Amazon UK |
No comments:
Post a Comment