An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy)

by David Jester

  ‘And the night with the chocolate pubes and anal lube?’

  ‘Best night of my life.’

  I nodded, understandably.

  ‘You like Jessie then?’ He quizzed, picking herb infused flesh from the remaining bones of his main course.

  ‘She’s sweet,’ I said. ‘Not as shy as Melanie.’

  ‘Unlucky for you huh?’

  The night had been spent as a group, conversing as four people. But when the girls returned from the bathroom they had a different agenda and concentrated solely on their separate dates.

  The more I found out about Jessie the more I liked. She was attractive, her skin the darkened shades of middle-eastern parentage, her eyes a hypnotising shade of black; she was exciting, passionate about everything she talked about; she was witty, possessed of a boisterous laugh which she threw her head back to fully commit too.

  After dessert we stayed for a few drinks and then went back to the flat that Melanie shared with Jessie. When Melanie disappeared into one of the bedrooms with Matthew, I stayed on the sofa with Jessie.

  ‘Do you want to join me in the other room?’ Jessie asked after a patient wait, her eyes twinkling with the promise of sex.

  We had been listening to Matthew going at it for twenty minutes or more. Meanie’s bed squeaked under their movements, the headboard banged intermittently against the far wall, vibrating noise throughout the small flat.

  They had tried to drown out their intercourse by playing Rock music on a Hi-fi, but that had only encouraged Matthew to thrust in time to the songs. It was disconcerting, but Jessie didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘I can’t,’ I told her, hanging my head.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jessie replied understandably. She pulled away put her glass on the table and then looked at me earnestly. ‘Is there a problem downstairs?’ she wondered.

  ‘With this racket I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘No,’ she scratched her forehead. ‘I mean, you know, downstairs,’ she nodded towards my groin.

  ‘Oh, oh, God no. I’m fine.’ I shifted uneasily on my seat, and then opened my legs wide, as if to show that I had the correct equipment hidden underneath my jeans.

  She seemed relieved. ‘What is it then? If you don’t mind talking about it.’

  ‘I have a girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh,’ the relief vanished in an instant. She deflated like a balloon.

  ‘I think,’ I added.

  ‘You think?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Long distance?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Well, not really.’

  She looked perplexed.

  ‘Not at all,’ I clarified. ‘But it is complicated.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I like you though,’ I was quick to add.

  She smiled gratefully. ‘That’s nice.’

  She picked up her glass of wine, tucked her legs underneath her and then stared at me deeply. With her sombre expression, her slightly tired features and the halo of light emanating from the lamp behind her, she looked like an Eastern princess. Being alone with her at that moment, with the edge of her exuberance extracted by the night, and her beauty intensified by the light, would have been perfect, if not for the fact that Matthew was now humping and grunting to the tune of We Will Rock You.

  ‘Maybe we can do it another time,’ I said.

  I was entranced by her, and knew that I needed to get a definitive answer from Melissa before I did anything with Jessie. As nasty and standoffish as she had been, she was too sweet to cheat on.

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘And I’ll sleep with you then,’ I joked. ‘I promise.’

  Jessie laughed. ‘I’ll keep you to your word.’

  My good mood continued until the following Saturday morning. I had initially planned to mope around the house all day and maybe leave a few more messages on Melissa’s machine. Instead I woke with a start, made a hefty breakfast and then took a call from Jessie.

  ‘You sound jovial this morning,’ she noted after my energetic greeting.

  ‘Jessie, hey, how are you?’ I asked, the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder as I buttered some toast.

  ‘I’m good, a little hung over, but good. Nothing a fry-up can’t fix.’

  ‘Is Matthew still there?’ I wondered.

  ‘No, he left in rush this morning.’

  Matthew always left in a rush after sex. Melanie was lucky he had stayed until morning, usually he was out the door before the sheet stains had time to dry.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I was wondering if you’d be up for a little fun tonight.’

  ‘Fun?’

  ‘A little party,’ she hesitated; she seemed ill at ease. ‘Melanie and I are throwing one of our parties,’ she said this like I knew what one of their parties entailed, I didn’t, but a party was a party.

  I switched the phone from my right ear to my left. ‘Sounds great.’

  She seemed relieved; I could hear a sigh crackle down the line. ‘I was going to ask Matthew, but I didn’t catch him. Maybe you can invite him?’

  I agreed to ask Matthew along and hung up after getting instructions on the address and time.

  After a short afternoon nap I dressed and prepared for the party. I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Matthew and didn’t mind, I had a feeling the night was going to be about me and Jessie anyway.

  I left a message on Melissa’s phone, asking her to ring me. I said it was urgent. I intended to tell her it was over and therefore get permission to sleep with Jessie, but she didn’t phone back. I left the house less happy state than when I had woken that morning, but I was content I was going to see Jessie again, even if I wasn’t going to sleep with her.

  The address I had been given led me to a semi-detached farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. The building sat on its own at the end of a long country road, which cut a winding path through fields blistered with hay bales and the quickly greying forms of sheep and cattle.

  A log stretch of road in front of the house served as the driveway, numerous cars were strewn on its bobbled surface; a vast mechanical cornucopia as far as the darkness allowed me to see. All the cars were in better condition than mine, which could barely be classed as a car.

  I parked up behind the house, nestled between a thick hedge and the side of a damp sodden barn, so no one would know I was the guy who arrived in the painted wheelbarrow.

  I didn’t know if I was headed to a formal party, a dinner party or a drunken rave, so I had dressed to prepare for all occasions. I wore jeans so dark and well ironed they could pass for formal trousers if no one paid too much attention, a plain black shirt buttoned over to conceal a casual T-shirt, and a black denim jacket.

  The house on the left side had been lit up from all angles. Three windows at the top and two on the bottom blazed with red, blue and yellow lights. The stone bricks breathed music.

  I heard sounds of exertion as I stepped to the front door. I thought I heard someone scream, nothing blood curdling; something pleasurable. The overexcited calls of a woman enjoying herself perhaps.

  I began to remove my jacket, deciding that I certainly wasn’t heading into a dinner party, when the front door flew open and a short man with flabby man-boobs and a frighteningly large penis, burst out into the night.

  He brushed past me as if he hadn’t seen me. I moved aside, wondering if it was his knee or his dick that had whacked against my thigh.

  ‘I want to dance!’ he yelled, throwing his arms into the air. He hopped onto the gravel driveway and sidestepped around a convertible. His bare feet crunched against the coarse stones, he didn’t seem to mind. ‘I want to dance and sing with the fairies!’ he continued, disappearing into the blackness.

  I removed my jacket, contemplated running back to my car, and then stepped into a halo of fluorescent light that engulfed the hallway ahead of me.

  I waited by the door for a moment, my hand on the handle, my eyes
on the fields where the fairy-dancer had disappeared. I didn’t know whether I should leave it open for him to return or not, I certainly didn’t want him to--

  ‘Hello Kieran.’

  The voice came from behind me; someone had joined me in the hallway. I recognised the voice instantly; it was the voice I had spent all night listening to, the voice I had driven for an hour to hear.

  I turned around with a broad and expectant smile on my face, that smile faded into something obscure when I saw that Jessie was completely naked.

  ‘Am I early?’ I said.

  I knew I was late, but I didn’t know any other reason for her to be naked. Not that she would walk around the house naked before a party anyway, it wasn’t even her bloody house.

  ‘No, no, you’re just on time,’ she said.

  She walked towards me with a welcoming smile. I remained standing, my eyes unable to leave her breasts, which were as perfect as her face.

  ‘Let me take your jacket,’ she said softly.

  I took my jacket off and watched with a low jaw as she took it to a nearby walk-in cupboard and hung it up amongst a mass of other jackets and items of clothing.

  ‘Don’t worry about your clothes,’ she assured comfortingly, ‘you can take them off when you’re ready.’

  I hadn’t been worrying, but now I was.

  ‘Follow me,’ she turned around and waddled off down the hallway, her naked buttocks slipping into a swagger, the tight flesh barely moving as she strode.

  She stood in the open doorway to what I assumed was the main room, it wasn’t until I walked by her side did I hear the noises that should have been apparent earlier, if not for their velocity than for their magnitude.

  Men talked softly, harshly. They grunted and they groaned. Woman huffed and puffed, expressing intermittent calls of pleasure, pain and ecstasy.

  I peered into the room and instantly my heart sank, I realised that as sexy and seductive as Jessie was, I wasn’t going to have sex with her. Not tonight, not ever, but there were plenty of people who were.

  The room was a writhing mass of flesh. A dozen males and females were caught in the midst of mass intercourse. I hadn’t just shown up late to any party, I had shown up late to an orgy, and they had started without me.

  The furniture in the room had casually been coated with plastic or draped with sheets and pushed aside. The floor was covered with mattresses and pillows as couples of varying ages fornicated on them.

  Just a few feet in front of me, a young man with aggressive stubble and heavily tattooed arms straddled a tall blonde over the protected couch, grasping her hips and asking her who he was with a snarled expression, apparently he was just as confused as me.

  In the middle of the room a middle-aged man lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with glassy and distant eyes whilst two women hovered around him. In the corner of the room, nestled in a groove where I assumed the television usually sat, a man in his late teens snorted intricate lines of white powder from around the areolae of a small breasted teen. It seemed like an extravagantly pointless way to get high, but they were both loving it.

  In the other corner a young woman looked at me over the heaving shoulders of a guy that had her pinned up against the wall. She stared with glistening eyes, licking her lips. She nodded when she saw me looking, a gesture that said come and join in. I turned away quickly.

  ‘This--this,’ I stuttered and looked at Jessie, she seemed enthralled by the sex, ‘this is an orgy,’ I whispered, as if informing her of something she didn’t know.

  She looked at me, slightly bemused. ‘Of course it is,’ she stated.

  ‘Bu--bu--bu--’

  ‘I thought you knew,’ Jessie rested a reassuring and apologetic hand on my shoulder.

  I shook my head rapidly.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she backed out of the room, tugging me with her.

  ‘Maybe I should…’ I trailed off, hooking a thumb over my shoulder towards the door.

  ‘No,’ she pulled me closer. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said genuinely. ‘But, please, please,’ she looked deep into my eyes, forcing me to listen, to believe. ‘Stay. Just, try to have fun.’

  ‘It’s not for me,’ I assured her.

  ‘Then don’t do anything. Wait for me,’ she pleaded.

  She had puppy dog eyes. I had no intention to sleep with her -- I didn’t know where she’d been -- but I couldn’t say no to her.

  ‘Okay,’ I conceded.

  She grinned, normality restored. ‘I need to prepare a few things, then I’ll get changed, and we can--’ she shrugged and looked towards the door. ‘Go somewhere maybe?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Excellent, wait here.’

  She ambled off down the hallway. I tried to enjoy watching her move again, but when I looked at her firm backside I imagined what the nipple snorter and his friends had done to it.

  I tried to wait for her by the door, but the noises distracted me, so I ventured upstairs. It was darker up there, quieter.

  I took the steps slowly, keeping an ear out in case anyone was fucking on the stairs or in any of the rooms.

  I found myself admiring the house. The floors were coated with thick, dark wood. The wall leading up the stairs hung with lines of calming landscapes and seascapes.

  The top of the stairs led onto a plush rug which stretched out onto a large squared hallway, immediately branching onto four closed doors, with a hallway leading down to another.

  I ignored the rooms and followed the hallway. The walls upstairs were fitted with portraits of a happy family. I stopped when I recognised Jessie in one of the photos. She was hugging an elderly man and woman, nestled in between them, a broad smile on her gorgeous face.

  In the next one she was younger, eleven or twelve maybe, the old couple now a middle-aged pair, watching their daughter frolic on the swings in a park.

  Then a picture of a sunny holiday. Jessie as a youngster, no more than seven. Her mesmerising features yet to form, her long dark hair cut short. There were pictures of Jessie in the sea, in the pool, on the beach, in the car.

  There was also a framed picture of Jessie with Melanie. It hung near the corner wall, before the hallway turned towards its final stretch and the remaining door.

  I paused to take a second look, suddenly realising that I hadn’t seen Melanie downstairs. Jessie had said the party had been thrown by her and Melanie. I tried to think if she had been in the living room, maybe I missed her, maybe--

  I paused and pulled back. I heard a noise. A voice. A voice I recognised.

  I peeked around the corner. The door at its end was open slightly, a soft ambient light streamed through the gap, merging with the stronger hallway fluorescence.

  There were no sex sounds through the door, none that I could decipher anyway. No heavy groaning, no--

  There it was again. The voice.

  It sounded female but it wasn’t Jessie. It wasn’t Melanie.

  I turned the corner and took a few steps forward.

  Soft talking, barely audible. I listened, strained. It was definitely her. It had to be.

  I raised my hand to the door; I felt the flat mahogany against my palm, readied to push.

  But it couldn’t be, could it? I wondered. Here, now?

  I’m just hearing things.

  I pulled away, but the voice called again and was followed by a deeper voice in reply, a male voice.

  I shoved open the door and stepped forward.

  The room was heavy with smoke. There were two windows inside but both were covered with red sheets, blocking out what remained of the daylight and leaving nowhere for the smoke to escape; it sat heavy in the air, thick from floor to ceiling.

  There had been no sex sounds in this room, but there was certainly a lot of sex.

  Melanie was on her back, receiving oral sex from an enthusiastic youngster. Her eyes were closed and she seemed dead to the world.

  On the couch, mumbling under her breath in a haze of smoke
and a torrent of ecstasy, was Melissa.

  I wanted to turn and leave; I could scarcely believe what I was seeing.

  ‘Melissa!’ I couldn’t help myself; the words forced their way out of my mouth.

  The guy nibbling gently on her breasts was the first to notice me. He looked up at me with something resembling mild contempt. The man with his fingers between her legs and his tongue in her throat did the same.

  I heard her mumble again, upset that the two men had stopped, then she slowly sat up, followed their eyes and saw me.

  I expected to see shame or embarrassment, but I only saw anger and pure rage in those drug filled orbs. She bolted up and strode towards me, her hair matted with sweat and stuck behind her head, her make-up forging her face into the features of an insane jester.

  ‘You’re fucking following me now!’ she growled. I had never heard that tone from her before, never seen that degree of anger and hatred in her eyes.

  I took a step back, away from the smoke-filled room. She bounded after me.

  ‘You're fucking sick!’ she spat spittle’s of hate as she spoke.

  She looked unsteady on her feet, she probably hadn’t moved for a couple of hours, but she strode on with determination.

  ‘You’re perverted! You’re disturbed.’

  I continued to back off; I had already turned the corner and was now heading for one of the unmarked doors. Not willing to enter, God knew what else I would see.

  She was inches away; I could smell stale smoke and vodka on her breath.

  ‘You’re pathetic,’ she said, raising a hand and using it to prod an accusing finger into my chest. ‘You’re fucking wrong in the head!’

  She continued to poke me. I held up my hands in defence. I dragged some words to my throat, but when I tried to speak them they crackled out and dissipated.

  ‘How did you get in here?’ she demanded to know. ‘Eh? How!’

  My arms were still held up. Her finger was now a permanent fixture on my chest, I could feel it pressing into my sternum.

  The memories of the times we had spent together flashed before my eyes and were instantly erased and replaced by this furious, spitting she-beast who stood in front of me.