Tequila & Tea Bags by Laura Barnard

into the mattress.
    I smile despite my worry. I mean, will I ever orgasm? Was I cursed as a baby or something? Did that scary guy that came for Harry Potter come for me instead, but decided it would be crueller to never let me achieve the one thing I want. All I bloody hear about is everyone having them. I can't open a magazine without seeing top ten ways to achieve the best orgasm. None of them work. Not on me anyway. I’m the only girl in the world who’s never had an orgasm. But I still enjoy it, don’t get me wrong.
    ‘I should go.’ I get up and put my bra on quickly, careful for him not to steal it again.
    I don’t know what it was about this time, but it felt wrong. Maybe it was the fact that I was all dressed up and he couldn’t even be bothered to leave the house. He just had to send a quick text and I came running with my tail wagging. How pathetic.
    ‘See you soon,’ he says, his arm over his face. He’s already starting to fall asleep, his breathing slowing and becoming steady.
    By the time I’m dressed and have reached the door I can hear his snores. Why am I such a bloody whore?
    ***
     
    Sunday 12 th October
    I walk into the field the next morning, feeling ridiculously self-conscious. I mean, I had no idea what to wear, so I decided on jeans, my black hoodie, scarf and Elsie’s UGG boots.
    ‘Alright, Rosie!’ a jovial voice sings.
    I spin around with a glare, ready to kill him, only he looks super-hot. He’s wearing a checked flannel shirt with a black padded gilet. He’s got a thick red scarf around his neck, which only seems to accentuate his green eyes.
    ‘Don’t call me that!’ I snap as my cheeks redden. I lower my face to the floor in an attempt to hide it. Why am I being so bashful?
    ‘Sorry, it's Rosemary , right?’ His eyes twinkle in amusement.
    I ignore him, choosing to jut out my jaw to show my annoyance instead. He only seems to find it funnier.  
    ‘Come on. Let’s introduce you to Mitsy.’ He grabs my hand and pulls me along after him, almost pulling my arm out of its socket.
    It feels weird to have my hand in his, but it's also too comfy and warm for me to object. It’s smooth too, unlike James’ calloused ones. He’s obviously never done a hard day’s work in his life.
    ‘Are you nervous?’ he asks, glancing back at me, not breaking from his huge strides. I’m practically running after him or I’d be dragged, face down against the grass. I have a feeling he still wouldn’t stop.
    He looks back at me again, this time with a quizzical expression. He must think I’m acting weird. I hope my hands not sweaty.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ he smiles reassuringly. ‘She’s going to love you.’
    Ah, he must think I’m agitated about meeting the horse. Come to think of it, I am. I don’t have the first bloody clue about horses. He’s going to think I’m an idiot.
    I attempt a deep breath, suddenly feeling as nervous as he described. I stop when I collide with his back.
    ‘Ow.’ I rub my forehead.
    He turns and smiles at me, clearly amused. I look around him to see that we’re in front of a small stable. It stinks of poo. Let’s hope the horse doesn’t smell this bad.
    He leads me over to it and goes towards a dark chocolate horse.
    ‘This is Mitsy.’ She has the brightest blonde hair contrasting it. It's almost as if she’s had highlights. What a bloody gorgeous horse. Who knew they could actually be stylish? Then I look down and see that she’s wearing a onesie. A onesie?
    ‘Err…why on earth is she wearing a onesie?’ I can't keep the laugh out of my voice.
    ‘They’re her pyjamas,’ he says, his eyes seemingly serious.
    ‘Horses wear pyjamas?’ How weird. ‘ And they dance?’ I can't help but blurt out.
    He chuckles loudly. ‘Yep. Just like you and me.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Come and say hi.’
    I realise I haven’t moved and I’m still some way away from her. A quick stab of fear hits my chest, bringing with it a quickening heartbeat. I slowly