Spanky

by Christopher Fowler

  ‘I feel mischievous today,’ he exclaimed, breathing deep and patting himself on the chest. ‘Glad to be alive. I could spiral through the clouds like a rocket. Anything could happen this morning. I honestly feel that, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what—’

  ‘Whoa!’ he shouted suddenly, slapping his head and spinning around. ‘What’s happened here? Everyone’s naked!’

  I looked along the crowded pavement, my mouth hanging open. He was right. No one was wearing any clothes. Two tall, elegant women strode by, denuded of everything but their shopping bags. A beautiful Spanish girl with dark-nippled, pendulous breasts and a virtually rotating backside squeezed past us to enter a Body Shop. Two stem policemen, bare-assed except for their helmets, stood at the kerb. Workmen were sitting outside a pub, their goose-pimpled buttocks poking through ironwork benches. Ahead, a sightseeing coach was disgorging a fleet of chubby nude Americans.

  Spanky threw his hands over his eyes. ‘Enough! Begone!’ he cried. ‘It’s too early in the morning for this sort of foolishness.’

  And everyone was dressed again.

  We stopped before an open-fronted restaurant. Even at this hour it was full of wealthy young diners. Pony-tailed waiters were negotiating cramped steel tables at dangerous speeds.

  ‘Is this part of my self-improvement?’ I asked. I didn’t understand the point of sitting down to eat with someone nobody else could see. If I spoke to Spanky, everyone would think I was mad.

  ‘You only have to consciously transmit your thoughts and I’ll receive them,’ he replied.

  Like this?

  ‘Exactly. From now on, if you have a question to ask, just think it. Don’t say it aloud. I want to see how you conduct yourself with women.’

  What do you mean?

  The maître d’ was looking over at us with a quizzical raised eyebrow. ‘Just do what I tell you to do. Go over there and ask to be seated. I’m right behind you.’

  I carefully threaded my way through to the reservations desk. The maître d’ gave his blonde pony-tail a self-conscious flick and looked along the bridge of his nose at me.

  ‘’Elp you?’

  ‘Do you have a table for one, please?’

  ‘No, I am sorry.’ He rudely turned his back and made himself busy. I was about to leave when Spanky grabbed my arm hard.

  ‘You’re not going to take that from him,’ he hissed. ‘What’s the name of the owner?’

  I have no idea, I thought.

  ‘Look around. The pictures on the wall over there. The same fat bitch is in virtually every photograph.’

  He was right. In one the plump, laughing figure sat at a table with a place-card in view.

  ‘Read the name underneath.’

  Anna Tamboure, I thought.

  ‘The place is called Tamboure’s so it must be her restaurant. But she won’t be here now.’

  Why not?

  ‘It’s Saturday morning. Too early for parties. The type of customer she shines for won’t be here yet. She wouldn’t receive enough attention from this crowd. Tell the maître d’ that you’re meeting her for brunch, but you’re a little early. He’ll give you a table, and a good one, even if he has to throw those old women off over there.’

  The daemon was right. Taking a deep breath I did as I was told, and I got my table. In the front. By the window. Following Spanky’s instructions I told the waiter that I would go ahead and order.

  Do you want me to order something for you too?

  ‘I don’t need to eat. I only do it for the pleasure of the taste. Ask for the salmon and scrambled eggs, a lemon poppy-seed muffin, English breakfast tea and a Bloody Mary. And leave the book on the table, face up.’

  I ordered and looked around the restaurant. Here, my expensive new clothes blended in perfectly. I was dressed in the same manner as everyone else. Chelsea uniform.

  ‘Martyn, pay attention. Look over to the door.’

  A tall young woman was standing inside the entrance, studying the room for a table. The sunlight fell in a crooked stripe across her breasts. Her hair was cropped in a sixties cut, and coral pink lipstick coated a pair of small but sensual lips.

  ‘Catch her eye. She’ll look away at first. When she looks back—and she will—catch it again. Now gesture with the flat of your palm to your empty seat. Smile, but don’t look smarmy.’

  She looked over at me, glanced off in the direction of the kitchen, then back. I gave a light smile and gestured to the only unoccupied chair. She feigned indifference, but coolly appraised the situation.

  Then she caught sight of the novel and seemed to reach a decision.

  ‘Statistics show that women feel safer near a strange man if he’s carrying a book,’ he said. ‘When she comes over, offer her the seat.’

  ‘Would you care to join me?’ I asked. She was even taller than I had realized, but beautiful in a highly cosmetic manner. Deep-set violet eyes, wide false lashes. Those lips.

  ‘Thanks, it’s always so bloody crowded in here.’ She turned over a menu and began to study it.

  ‘Introduce yourself,’ said Spanky. I looked around for him, but he had disappeared.

  Where are you?

  ‘I don’t want you getting distracted. Introduce yourself. Tell her the salmon is very good. Offer her tea. Be natural.’

  I did as I was told. Over the next twenty minutes, I heard all about her. Katisha was a model, but it was tough finding work at the moment.

  ‘Not her real name,’ commented Spanky.

  She’d been offered a job in Japan, but wasn’t sure if she should take it. She had gone to a party last night, but it hadn’t been much fun. Once I’d started her talking, she didn’t let up. Mostly she told me about her career and her recently departed boyfriend, who sounded like a total creep. When I had first looked over at her standing there bathed in sunlight, she had appeared virginal and innocent. Talking to her now, I could tell that innocence was not a recent memory.

  ‘That’s because you place women on pedestals. To you, they’re all goddesses,’ Spanky cut in. ‘Men who do that are usually lacking in experience. Stop her from talking about herself for a minute.’

  How do I do that?

  ‘Tell her something that has a conversational angle for her. Something that she can see as advantageous. Tell her you work for Gavins.’

  What’s Gavins?

  ‘It’s a very successful model agency.’

  That would be lying.

  ‘Don’t be a drip. You want to have sex, don’t you?’

  Sex? I thought you were monitoring my manners. It’s still morning! That must be the last thing on her mind.

  ‘Maybe, but it’s definitely there on her mind. I assume you caught the nuances in her remarks about the party being so terrible and the boyfriend leaving her. She didn’t meet anyone interesting last night. Get it? You are not sitting opposite Miss Goody Two-Shoes here. Really, this wholesome pose of yours is beginning to wear a bit thin.’

  I suppose it started there, with the initial lie. The first of very many.

  Katisha instantly perked up when I mentioned the model agency. Throughout the conversation that followed I was fed with dialogue lines, Cyrano-like, by my invisible tutor. I found myself explaining the set-up at my agency, and heard myself hinting that they might have work for her. By the time we had finished our respective meals (she had taken my advice and ordered the same dish), she was talking to me with her elbow on the table and her chin resting on her fist, in rapt attention. I felt ashamed of myself. I felt dishonest. But most of all, I felt very, very horny.

  ‘She lives nearby,’ said Spanky, cutting across her conversation. ‘I just saw the address in her purse. She’s out shopping for lipstick.’

  How do you know that?

  Spanky reappeared beside me. He had taken a piece of toast from someone’s table and was slowly munching it. ‘All women are out shopping,’ he explained, ‘virtually all of the time. They just don’t realize it. It is commonly as
sumed that a woman’s main preoccupation in life is the purchase and mass accumulation of shoes. Not true. New shades of lipstick are, however, another story. Right now she’s thinking about the new lipstick from Paloma Picasso. It’s expensive, it’s classy, and she has to own at least two of them or she will surely die. Offer to leave with her.’

  ‘So, you’re out shopping this morning?’ I asked self-consciously.

  ‘Oh, just cosmetic stuff I need.’

  ‘The department store she wants to visit is between here and her flat,’ said Spanky, producing an enormous Ordnance Survey map of the area and folding it back. ‘Suggest going there with her. I’ll plan the route.’

  ‘I love that shop,’ she said, agreeing to the suggestion I repeated from Spanky. ‘Wouldn’t you mind? Men usually hate waiting for me in stores. Because you know, sometimes I can be hours. I lose track of the time.’

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

  We rose to leave.

  ‘From the random thoughts I’m catching,’ said Spanky, following behind us, ‘she’s going to offer you coffee at her place. But not until you’ve been hanging around at the shop for a while. It’ll be a kind of reward. She already told you she has no plans for the rest of the day.’

  As Katisha and I reached the restaurant door, Spanky shifted beside me. ‘There’s a packet of flavoured condoms in your left pocket,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Lemon, strawberry and liquorice. You can misbehave yourself as much as you like, but whatever you do, don’t offer to pay for the lipstick.’

  Chapter 9

  Sexography

  ‘The body,’ intoned Spanky, ‘is a sacred temple. Sex is not just a matter of knowing how to enter that temple, it’s finding out where everything is, shifting the furniture about, and remembering to move more slowly and with more respect than you’d really like to.’

  We were standing in Katisha’s lounge, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom. Her apartment covered the top floor of a sloping redbrick Victorian block. Large curving windows admitted dusty light over furniture that was expensive but mismatched and lacking in taste. Katisha was Thanet Furniture’s dream customer. I liked her. She was ditzy and funny and kind of awful, but seemed to know what she wanted.

  Right now, it appeared she wanted me.

  I knew that it wasn’t just the effect of my changed appearance. Something of Spanky was starting to rub off on me. My confidence was growing. I waited before I moved. Thought before I spoke. Common sense to most people, but a new experience for me.

  ‘Charismatic osmosis,’ said Spanky, turning over a fluffy troll with distaste. ‘That’s what’s happening to you, my dear chap. I’m imparting some of my own qualities to you. The more time we spend together, the more your behaviour will change. You’ll grow more knowledgeable, more sophisticated. When you reach a point of true emotional independence, the process will be finished. But for now, just relax and have fun.’

  I wasn’t too sure about that. How much of my personality could change before I stopped being me?

  ‘You’ll still be the same person, Martyn. I can’t make you accept any changes you don’t consciously want. When the muse alighted on Socrates it only imparted those characteristics that the philosopher required. And he was the guy who insisted know thyself.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Katisha called. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’ She sounded as if she was brushing her teeth. She’d drawn one set of blinds, shielding the front half of the room from the brightness of the day. I moved into the shadowed area and seated myself.

  I can’t believe I’m about to do this. It’s two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, for God’s sake. I’ve only known her two and a half hours.

  Spanky gave one of his characteristic shrugs and replaced the troll on the dresser. ‘How did you ever get to be so prudish about guilt-free safe sex, Martyn? I suppose I’ll find out when I meet your family.’

  What do you mean, meet my family? They can’t tell you anything about me.

  ‘On the contrary, old bean, they’re the key. Look out, she’s coming back.’

  Behind me, the bathroom light clicked off and Katisha emerged in minuscule black underwear. She stood before me with a faint smile on her lips, then soundlessly reached down and moved her face close to mine. Her strong tongue found its way into my mouth, and I slipped my arms around her waist. In the brief moment that I opened my eyes, I found Spanky standing behind Katisha’s right shoulder watching her unclip her lace brassière with unconcealed fascination.

  Spanky, can’t you fade out for this part? It’s embarrassing.

  ‘Don’t be so old-fashioned. Anyway, this is a scientific experiment. I’m going to guide you through, help you to make the right moves.’

  I don’t want you here!

  ‘Why not?’ He pouted theatrically. ‘I thought we were friends.’

  It’s a matter of privacy. Besides, I won’t be able to—you know. Get an erection.

  A hand suddenly appeared and grabbed my cock through my trousers. ‘I think you already have one. I’ve put the condoms in your left-hand trouser pocket.’

  Katisha leaned forward into the embrace, gently rubbing her groin back and forth across my leg. As I raised my hand and slid it around the top of her thigh, I realized with a shock that my arm was being guided into place.

  For Christ’s sake, stop that!

  ‘Just trying to help. You know what to do then, do you? What’s your next move going to be?’

  Take her pants off.

  ‘Charming. Why don’t you simply stun her with a house-brick and fuck her through her clothes? Have you never heard of foreplay? Sensitivity? The breasts, man, lightly kiss the breasts.’

  Jesus, I don’t believe this.

  I slid my hand beneath the slipping bra and ran my fingertips lightly over her nipples. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes.

  ‘Listen for the tell-tale sounds that will let you know she’s enjoying herself. Keep one hand in the small of her back, the other on her breasts.’

  Katisha began to emit a low moaning sound. The more I rubbed and tweaked the nipples, the louder she moaned. She sounded like a mugger’s victim coming round.

  ‘What’s your other hand doing? You can put it into the back of her panties now and give that lovely rump a good massage. Unbutton your shirt so that her nipples can brush against your chest.’

  I can manage this without any more advice!

  ‘I’m sure you know how to enjoy yourself. I was thinking of her.’

  I’m sure you were.

  Spanky was clearly enjoying the show. I should have been repelled by his presence in the room, egging me on as if he was betting on a racehorse, but oddly it didn’t disturb me. His running commentary got on my nerves, though.

  By the time we reached the bedroom, Spanky was already sitting cross-legged on one of the pillows, unwrapping a piece of bubblegum.

  Christ, Spanky, can’t you leave the room for a few minutes?

  He thought for a moment, chewing slowly. ‘How long exactly? I don’t want to miss the big finish.’

  I don’t know, ten minutes.

  ‘You haven’t had sex for a while, have you? Anyone would think you’d been in prison for a year.’

  He rose and stood by the bed, cocking his head to one side, admiring Katisha as she removed her panties and flicked them across the room with her big toe. Slowly she opened her legs, smiling at me all the while.

  ‘I say, Martyn. Do you think she might have done this before?’

  I glared up at Spanky. Just go, all right?

  ‘Can’t I at least stay for penetration?’

  No!

  ‘Spoilsport.’ He crossed his arms, impersonating Arnold Schwarzenegger. ‘I’ll be back.’

  I can honestly say that Katisha showed me things I had never before considered physically possible. At one point she slipped backwards from the bed and actually stood on her head. I tried not to let my amazement show. I was entering her with long, deep strokes, nearing
my own climax, when Spanky reappeared beside us.

  ‘She’s making an awful lot of noise,’ he complained. ‘Her neighbours have had to turn their television up. I was very impressed with the acrobatic trick, though.’

  You weren’t supposed to be watching us!

  ‘I peeked. Forgive me? Tell you what, I’ll let you know when she’s coming.’ He disappeared from sight, then reappeared, smoothing his hair back in place. ‘She’s almost there.’

  How do you know?

  ‘I just popped into her body. Her nerve endings are going absolutely wild.’

  Katisha was lying back on the bedspread with her arms thrown over her face, grunting loudly. I was standing at the bed edge with her legs twisted around my thighs, knotted at the ankles. I could feel myself reaching orgasm, and began pumping faster.

  ‘Whoa, slow down there. Remember what I said. Slow and deep. Here.’ Spanky raised his leg, placed the heel of his right shoe on my buttocks and pushed down hard. A thrilled cry burst from Katisha as she writhed beneath me.

  Thank you.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  We reached a mutual climax of cataclysmic proportions, and I collapsed on top of her.

  Spanky blew a large pink bubble and burst it. ‘And they say romance is dead. Jolly well done the both of you. I for one was very impressed.’

  Shut up, Spanky.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Katisha raised herself on one arm and checked the patch of wall where my eyes had been focussed.

  ‘Oh—nothing.’ I turned back to her sheepishly, but she was already studying her alarm clock.

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I just remembered. I’m supposed to be at an audition at five, and it’ll take me ages to get ready.’ She carefully extricated herself, then jumped up and began searching for her underwear.

  ‘That’s okay. Do you need any help?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. You’ll only be in the way if you stay.’

  Her sudden change of attitude confused me. ‘I’d really like to see you again, Katisha.’