by BarnaWilde
I slam the drawer so fast it traps my tie. As I try to step back I find I can't straighten my legs. Carole has come back into the room without me even hearing her. She's carrying a hose pipe, and when she puts it down she plays with the end of it. Holding it in one hand and caressing it with the other. I can't move. I have to watch her in the mirror. I am completely at her mercy.
"I was just....."
"Oh, there's no need to explain, Tom." She advances towards me across the room. I need another coincidence badly, but the sky is completely clear. Not a chance of thunder.
"I've measured the downstairs, Mr F."
Thankyou Julie. Bless you Julie. "In here," I croak. "I think you should check this room next."
Carole looks furious.
"Mr F. Why are you standing like that?"
I can see their reflections in the mirror. Two attractive women. One blonde and middle aged. One dark and glowing with youth. One ruthless and sex starved, and one a picture of innocence. I'm trapped in a bedroom with two beautiful women. It ought to be exciting, but my legs are beginning to hurt with having to stand like this, and my tie feels distinctly tight around my neck. I can't open the drawer without taking my hands off the top of the dressing table. If I move them I think I might fall over and strangle myself. Somebody needs to do something.
I can hear a sort of rushing noise in my ears. It's getting darker too and my legs seem to be drifting away from me. In fact I feel quite lightheaded.
"Mr F. Are you alright?" Julie's reflection is looking worried.
"F..fine," I gasp. "D..do you think you could open this drawer for me, please?"
"Do you think I should, Mr F? It is a private house? Do you think Mrs Carroll would mind?"
Carole's reflection is starting to spin. The whole room is starting to go round. Carole is making no attempt to help. There are two rubber things where my legs used to be.
"Q..quickly,..p..please," I whisper.
"If you think Mrs Carroll won't mind," says Julie, but it's too late. Just as I start to slide down the front of the dressing table, Carole strolls across and releases the drawer. I finish up sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed.
"Oh, what lovely clothes," says Julie as she glimpses the contents of the drawer.
I gulp in great lungfulls of air. As my head clears, the room slows down. I feel safer down here. I may not stand up again for a while. I look around the room. The deflated water mattress hangs limply over the bedframe. The old mattress is propped against the wall. There is a hosepipe on a reel by the door. There are small cupboards on either side of the bed. Each has a little shelf. On the shelf of the right hand unit is a book and a wallet. My wallet. I can see my wallet. All I have to do is to crawl over and pick it up.
When I look up, both Julie and Carole are watching me. Waiting to see what I will do next.
I move over to the bed and pull the water mattress straight. "Better get this filled up then," I say in a businesslike way. "Miss Green, could you unroll the hose down the stairs, please."
"Yes, of course, Mr F."
I edge round to the right side of the bed as the hose begins to disappear down the stairs. Carole regards me suspiciously. She thinks I'm up to something, but she's not sure what. I start to whistle. That convinces her I'm up to something.
"What are you doing, Tom?" she asks.
"Nothing," I say. "Just helping."
The hose unwinds completely and Carole grabs the end before it disappears altogether. While she is distracted I reach in and retrieve the wallet. She doesn't notice.
Carole starts trying to fit the end of the hose into the water bed. "I'll go and help Jul...Miss Green attach the other end," I say as I slip past her and out onto the landing.
Julie is in the kitchen. She has already managed to fix the hose onto the cold tap.
"Shall I turn it on, Mr F?" she asks.
"Yes, full on," I reply. The hose gives a little shiver as the water begins to flow.
"Time for us to leave, I think, Julie."
"But Mr F, aren't we going to stay and fill the water bed for Mrs Carroll?"
"I think she'll be fine on her own now," I say.
I am propelling Julie as fast as I am able to the front door. I remember to grab my shoe and my trousers as we pass. The wriggle in the hose is moving rapidly up the staircase. As we reach the front door there is a mighty shriek from the bedroom.
We don't stop.
"Mr F." says Julie when we are safely in the car.
"Yes."
"I found some woodworm."
"Really," I say.
"Yes, Mr F. On the landing."
"Hmmm."
"Little piles of sawdust."
"Good. Good."
"Mr F."
"Yes."
"I'm glad I came with you. You know ever such a lot. I shall tell Mr Hudson what a good job you did."
I know I'm in love. I'm in love with Julie. I start to hum to myself. I could whistle, but I feel more like humming just at the moment. It's not been a bad morning really, all things considered. There was that little misunderstanding with Mr Hudson, of course, but I didn't actually get fired. At least, I don't think I did. And then there was that little problem in the newsagents, but we did get away before the police came. And then I did sort out the smell in the car. My jacket's in a bit of a state I suppose, but it'll probably wash out, and then I did get my shoe and my trousers back.
And my wallet.
And I didn't get eaten by Carole. And best of all, I'm sitting in a car with my lover.
Well, perhaps she isn't my lover yet, exactly. But almost.
Yep. A pretty good morning really, even if I do say so myself.
CHAPTER 15
Being Friday, it was fish on the canteen menu, and, as fish went, today's wasn't bad. Geoffrey sat alone in one corner of the dining room and ate his meal quietly. He followed the battered cod and chips with a portion of fruit pie and custard.
It had been a pretty uneventful morning. A couple of short meetings, and then back in the office dealing with the daily bumf. The afternoon was unlikely to be any more exciting. Still, the weekend was imminent, and he had also promised himself a little treat. He smiled inwardly at the prospect.
The treat wouldn't happen until monday. It couldn't, of course. The risk would be too great. But he had remembered to book the day off, and part of the pleasure would be in the anticipation.
***
I have my wallet back. I can feel it pressing against my thigh as we drive. There's been no time to check whether the little foil packet is still inside, but even if it is, my blowpipe is broken. I need to find out.
Julie is draped over the seat beside me. My pulse races each time I look at her. I have to let her know how I feel. I just don't know how to do it. How would Bond do it? He wouldn't have to, of course. Gorgeous women just throw themselves at him. It doesn't happen like that to me. Or perhaps it does, and I just don't recognise it. Yes, I reckon that must be it. It's happening all the time and I just don't notice. She's probably sitting there now, dreaming about me and she doesn't know how to make the first move. She probably wants me to start something. Probably she can hardly hold herself back. I should just put my hand on her knee, lean over and kiss her, and she'll melt.
I glance over. She's lounging back in the seat with her eyes closed. Her coat is undone, and the diagonal strap of the seat belt across her chest is accentuating her bust. Her skirt is pulled up to mid thigh. All I have to do is reach across.
I loose my grip on the wheel with my left hand and it moves waveringly in her direction. I can feel my pulse rate begin to climb, and those little beads of perspiration have started to grow on my forehead again.
At the instant my hand makes brushing contact with her knee, she springs awake,
...and screams!
The shock makes me almost jump out of my skin and I jerk the steering wheel in surprise with my right hand.
The car, which until this moment was cont
ent, more or less, to follow the one in front, lurches sharply to the right and into the path of the oncoming traffic. Even in my state of shock, I am aware that this is not a good place to be. Indeed we seem to be headed for the front of a bus.
Julie screams again. Just as I am about to take avoiding action I am once more scared rigid by her yell. I brake and heave the wheel simultaneously. The car reacts by performing a gentle pirouette in the path of the oncoming bus. I see a momentary look of horror on the driver's face as we career across his path and bump over the kerb.
Shoppers scatter, and I am aware of dogs and small children flying through my field of vision. We slide backwards across the pavement, narrowly missing a wooden gatepost, and come to rest inches from the rear wall of a small car park. and parallel to a large black BMW saloon. We seem to be parked in the forecourt of a public house.
"Lunch?" I say.
"It was horrible Mr F."
I've blown it. I know I have.
"I felt it Mr F. On my knee. It was horrible." She isn't taking this well.
"It made me feel sick, Mr F."
I feel wretched. I don't know what to say.
"I hate spiders, Mr F."
God she thinks I'm a spider. That's worse than a louse, isn't it? I hang my head in shame.
"I felt it walking across my leg, Mr F."
I'm not listening any more. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. I am a pervert after all. I sit looking at my lap.
I can feel Julie moving in the seat next to me. I hear her seat belt click open. She's probably going to call the police. I shan't resist arrest. I'll go quietly, take my punishment like a man. Maybe I'll get probation. Bound to lose my job though. Socially ostracised. Probably have to move house. Take on a new identity. Maybe even have to emigrate.
I feel a moist kiss on my cheek. "You are brave, Mr F. Trying to knock that spider off like that."
"Australia," I say.
"Australia, Mr F?"
"Penal colony," I add.
"They have big spiders there, Mr F. I wouldn't like that."
I think she just kissed me. I'm not actually sure. I think she kissed me and I missed it. I'd like to rewind and run it through again, but I don't have a remote control. I'm rooted to the seat.
"Are we going in, Mr F?" she says, breaking the silence.
I feel my left cheek. I'm sure I can feel a trace of moisture. A few molecules left by her kiss. An infinitessimal quantity of lipstick transferred from her to me.
She opens the car door and I follow in a daze. She goes in through a discoloured door marked 'Public Bar'. The pub is a dark and dingy affair when we get inside. There are some unsavoury types scattered in the gloom in the nooks and crannies around the bar, and there is a small stage at one end of the room.
We order drinks and sandwiches and find a table. Someone unseen starts up some music, too loud, on the intercom system and a girl moves up onto the stage. She has no clothes on. I find this surprising, but noone else reacts. The other people in the bar are more interested in continuing their discussions. A couple of people leave.
The girl is not completely naked. She has a tiny glittery G string that covers almost nothing, and a couple of silver tassels. I watch, fascinated, as she gyrates in an unenthusiastic way to the music. Julie is sitting with her back to the stage, and she appears not to be aware of the dancer. In fact, I seem to be the only person in the whole pub who is taking any notice at all.
Perhaps we should leave. This isn't a suitable place for someone like Julie. I start to drink my beer, and take a bite from my sandwich. I try not to look at the girl, but I can see her from the corner of my eye all the time. She is running her hands over her body in a very suggestive way. I take another drink.
"She's very attractive, isn't she, Mr F," says Julie suddenly.
"Pardon?" I reply, surprised. I didn't think she could even see the stage from where she is sitting.
"I said she's very attractive, Mr F."
"If you like that kind of thing," I say. I try to sound sophisticated. I can't stop staring at the girl. She sees me watching and blows me a kiss.
"Lovely clothes. All that silk."
Silk? How can she tell from here? There isn't much of anything that I can see. The girl smiles at me. I seem to be her only audience.
"She has nice taste," continues Julie. "Very sophisticated."
Sophisticated? I study the girl intently over Julie's shoulder. She is stroking her crotch with her right hand, and running her left hand down her thigh.
"Do you think it's her natural colour, Mr F?"
I look hard at the girl. She looks a pretty normal colour to me. Slightly tanned. Maybe she's been using a sunlamp. She has both hands on her thighs and is squeezing her breasts between her arms. I think she's doing it for me. I can't look away. I've stopped chewing. I can feel my collar getting tighter.
"I'd love to be blonde, Mr F. Do you think I'd look nice blonde?"
The dancer is doing amazing things with her tassels. She is swinging them in circles. Clockwise in time to the music, and then counterclockwise. My eyes are starting to pop.
"Do you, Mr F?"
"Pardon?"
"Do you think I'd look nice blonde?"
The tassels are now going in two directions at once. The left one is going clockwise and the right one is going anticlockwise. How does she do that?
"I think I might do that, Mr F?"
"Do you know how?" I ask in surprise.
"Oh yes, Mr F. It's easy. Lots of girls do it."
They do? Why didn't I know this? Where have I been? The tassels are going mad. The effect is hypnotic. I'm transfixed. The other people in the bar are taking no notice at all.
"I'd like to see that," I say.
"I wouldn't go as blonde as Mrs Carrol, I don't think. But it suits her."
"Carole? Where does she come into this?"
"That's who I was talking about, silly. You weren't listening were you Mr F?"
The girl on the stage is going wild. The tassels are going every which way. She has her thumbs tucked into the top of her G string and she is thrusting her hips at me. I fumble for my drink.
"I thought," I begin. But as I start to talk I knock my beer off the edge of the table and soak my right leg. Julie moves back to avoid being soaked too, and catches sight of the dancer for the first time.
"Sandra!" she calls.
"Julie!" The girl on the stage stops her frantic pelvic thrusting and jumps down from her dais. "Julie," she says again, and throws her arms around Julie. The two girls clasp each other in a bear hug. There is beer draining gently down my right leg and into my shoe. I stand there feeling somewhat left out.
"Mr F," says Julie, when they finally pull apart. "This is my friend Sandra. We were at school together. I haven't seen her for years."
I'm staring at Sandra's right breast. Her tassel has become caught in Julie's coat and has detached itself from it's rightful owner.
"Sandy, this is my friend Tom," says Julie. She hasn't noticed that she now owns a tassel. I wonder what I should do. I'm so absorbed in the tassel, that I don't even notice that Julie has introduced me.
"Pleased to meet you Tom," says Sandra. I raise my arm to shake her hand, but she leans across and kisses me instead. As she does her exposed nipple brushes my hand.
This is a terrible dilemma. It's like sitting opposite someone at dinner with a piece of lettuce stuck on their teeth and not knowing whether to mention it or not. Only worse.
"Did you like my dancing, Tom?" asks Sandra. "I saw you watching me."
I'm staring at her breast, and then at the tassel. I can't see what holds it on. Should I say nothing, or would it be suave to replace it for her? Why don't I know these things?
"Your uh ..costume," I say.
"Brill innit," she replies. "Me mum made it for me. Well she bought the bits anyway." She looks down and notices that the tassel has gone for the first time. "Oh, god, I've lost me doofrey again."
I reach across and take it from Julie's coat. I wonder whether I should reattach it for her.
"They fall off all the time," she adds. "I've got a box full out the back. I usually chuck them to the blokes at the end of me dance, if anyone's interested. Here have the other one. Keep em for souvenirs."
I sit with a silver tassel in each hand. The two girls are talking nineteen to the dozen. I think I've just become invisible again. Perhaps I'm not really here at all. After all it isn't very likely is it?
Listen. Perhaps you think I'm making this up. Do you really think I could invent something like this? Who would ever believe a story about a bald, middle aged man with a wet leg sitting in a pub with a naked woman?
Exactly.
Julie and Sandra seem to have lost interest in me completely. My right leg is starting to feel pretty uncomfortable too. I think I must have about half a pint of beer in my shoe. The two girls disappear through a door at the back of the bar leaving me alone.
"What are you on mate?" A voice startles me in my left ear. One of the shadowy customers from another table has moved up alongside me.
"Tabs?" he asks.
I don't know what he means, but then I realise that I'm still hanging onto Sandra's tassels. "Uh, just looking after them for a friend," I say, pushing them down into my pocket.
"What's your scene, man?" he continues.
"Just waiting for a friend," I say. "You didn't think I was going to wear those things did you?"
"Snow? Acid? Crack?"
I think I wish he would go away. I think he's trying to sell me something, and I don't know what it is.
"Look," I say. "If you are trying to sell insurance, forget it. I've got all I can handle." I feel pretty cool. If there's one thing I can do it's get rid of unwanted salesmen.
"Hash? Speed? Coke?"
"Nothing to drink, thankyou. You can't get around me that way. I've already got a drink thankyou." I look down at my empty glass. "You're not timeshare are you?" I ask.
"Ecstasy? Grass? Reds? Blues?"
"Double Glazing?"
"Come on man. I can get you anything you want. You want a girl?"
"No thankyou. I don't want any salespersons coming to my house."
"You want two girls? A boy? A girl and a boy?"
"Ha. I've got it. It's encyclopaedias, isn't it? Well you're wasting your time. I've got a very good one already, thankyou. A complete set of the Book of Knowledge."
"Pictures? Magazines? Videos? I can do porno, sado, rubber, all women, mixed, schoolgirls. Whatever you want man."