Blind Date

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Blind Date Page 4

by Debbie Ioanna


  “That sounds great.”

  We left the table and walked back out into the hallway. As soon as I stood up, I felt the wine beginning to take effect. If only I could have had a big meal to soak up the wine… He led me into the next room which was an office. A very tidy office. In front of one wall were two huge units absolutely packed with books. Travel books, biographies, cookbooks, fiction, history, lifestyle, the lot. It was like a miniature library.

  The room next to this was the lounge. The large L-shaped sofa was facing the biggest TV I have ever seen on the wall, and not a wire in sight. The wires surrounding my 32” TV, Sky box and DVD player are surely a hazard. There were more shelves with books. Photos of army parades and medals on the walls. The carpet looked so spongey, like every footstep would be similar to stepping into quicksand, however instead of drowning in sand your feet would sink into a sea of carpet.

  He showed me where the bathroom was, and then the kitchen however he did not want to linger in there for too long as he did not want me to see the mess from cooking. He can never come to my house if he doesn’t like mess.

  The last room on the tour was the bedroom. We looked in from the doorway. He had a king-sized bed with silver damask bedding with wallpaper to match. The room was perfect. The entire apartment was perfect. It was like one of those articles celebrities have in magazines to show off their perfect homes and perfect lives. I could get tips from James on how to maximise space and find wallpaper to match the bedding according to which season we were in. I then looked above my head and saw a bar across the door.

  “What’s this for?” I asked.

  “It’s a pull up bar,” he said, “so there’s no excuse not to do any exercise on a morning. I get out of bed and make sure I do a few pull ups before I’m allowed to have any breakfast. Try it.”

  Was he kidding? I struggle to carry shopping bags from my car, there’s no way I can support my own weight. Has he seen my thighs?

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t be able to.” I stepped back away from it.

  “Of course you can, I’ll help. Put your arms on the bar.” I was suddenly faced with thoughts of him in the army, giving orders. Hello tingles…

  It must have been the wine, or his beautiful smile, but I did as I was instructed and lifted my arms, grateful that I had shaved under them this morning. He put his hands on my hips and there was suddenly a lot more tingling going on. He looked into my eyes and got closer to my face, bringing his lips to mine. I brought my arms back down from the bar and put them around his neck whilst he kissed me. It was a good kiss. There was potential.

  He led me into the bedroom and on to the bed. Clothes were removed and thrown on the floor as he laid on top of me. He reached into the drawer by the bed and pulled out a condom. I didn’t look whilst he put it on, I didn’t want to put him off and ruin the moment. Also, I could be a bit of a prude when it came to looking at naked men. Sarah could never understand why, but she and Max had been together for years, she was used to seeing it wobble about but I didn’t see the need. It was not long before he was back on top of me and ready for some afternoon delight. I was ready, the moment was now.

  That’s the thing about moments. They have the ability to surprise you. Have you ever been so excited about something that you couldn’t wait for it to happen? The build-up of anticipation and tingles where a single touch would make you explode in a world of absolute pleasure.

  This was not one of those moments.

  There he was, giving it his best and evidently enjoying himself, thrusting inside me with all his might however… I couldn’t feel a thing. Oh, the horror. What a waste of a notch on the bedpost.

  “Is that good?” he panted. “Do you like that?”

  “Oh, yes,” I managed, “mmm, yes, keep going.” I had never been a fan of faking. Why waste an opportunity for an orgasm? In this case though I’d have more luck dry humping a cloud.

  And so, he went on. And on. And on. And on.

  Damn, I forgot to set record for Call The Midwife tonight. I’m sure I’ll be home in time.

  And on. And on. And on.

  Or maybe not. I can’t remember what happened in last week’s episode, I’ll have to have a recap before I watch the new one.

  And on. And on. And on.

  I’ll have to make sure I do my Tesco online shop tonight too, I’m running out of bread. I might get some current tea cakes this time. I’ve not had them for years. I love a toasted current tea cake on a morning with a cuppa.

  And on. And on. And on.

  I want to try take lunches to work with me and break some bad habits of spending money when I’m there. I spend a fortune on lunches when I could save so much money making it before I go and taking it with me.

  “Oh, baby, that’s good.” He called out.

  “Oh yes,” I tried to sound sincere. “Yes, keep doing that.”

  Donuts. I’ll buy some donuts. I’ve had a healthy-ish week, I deserve a treat.

  And on. And on. And on.

  Forty-five minutes later… he called out in a way that told me he was done. I had been flipped on my front, on my back, leg up, two legs up, every way possible. I was exhausted. How on earth could he have lasted so bloody long?

  He laid beside me, panting with a satisfied smile on his face. He was proud of his work.

  “I’ll try last longer next time, I’m not usually that quick, I’m sorry.”

  Quick? Is he having a laugh?

  9

  I arrived home later that afternoon feeling sore and achy from the bedroom gymnastics and absolutely starving. James was hoping I would stick around for pudding, but I was knackered after that performance. I told him I couldn’t stay much longer as I needed to feed the cat, when really, I had sneakily ordered a Chang’s from the Just Eat app on my phone when he was in the bathroom. I had an hour and fifteen minutes to get home.

  I got there just as my favourite delivery driver pulled up.

  “Jenny, my friend,” lots of people are on first name terms with their takeaway drivers, aren’t they? “Here, your food.”

  “Thank you, Imran.”

  “Early for food today, yes?”

  “Yes, very hungry.” I rubbed my belly just in case he needed a visual to understand what the word ‘hungry’ meant whilst working as a delivery driver for a fast food company.

  “Ok, ok. Enjoy.” He chuckled as he handed me my food and went back to his car as I fumbled for my key to get in the house.

  I finally got the door open and did not even bother to take off my coat. I just grabbed a plate and a fork from the kitchen and took it into the living room. I put the bag of food on the coffee table and began to open all the containers, filling my mouth with food at the same time. I couldn’t help myself. There was fried rice. Noodles. Salt and pepper chicken. Salt and pepper chips. Spring rolls. Prawn crackers. I never eat the prawn crackers, they always end up in the bin, but this time they would be getting eaten. I sat there for an hour filling my belly and watching TV. Bing came to sit with me, but only because it was time for some butt-licking cat yoga. He liked to save this party trick for when I was eating.

  “Shoo, you disgusting animal.” I was far too full at this point to get up and throw him out so just nudged him with my foot instead. He got the message and walked out after giving me a dirty look.

  Oh, that food was good, but I forgot to bring a drink with me. I’ll get one when I have the energy to move. It wasn’t worth standing up just yet. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from James.

  “I had a great time, your so sexy ;)”

  Oh, grammar. A pet peeve. Every time someone says ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ I am reminded of the episode of Friends where Ross lectures Rachel on the correct usage of the words. How come nearly every moment in life can be linked to a Friends reference?

  “Me too, that was great X”

  I did not know what else to say. I didn’t want to give any hint at wanting a second date. I can’t cope with that. I’ve ha
d disappointing sex before, but that was back in my teens when no one knew what they were doing. It shouldn’t be happening at thirty.

  “We should do that again sometime, are you free next weekend?”

  Dammit, what now?

  “No, sorry. Going away next weekend, I’ll let you know when I’m free :) X” I lied.

  My phone starting ringing before I could put it down, I prayed that it wasn’t James calling me to convince me to go back to his sometime soon. I checked and it was Sarah, relief.

  “Jenny,” this delicate voice muttered, “oh my god, my head.”

  “Feeling a bit rough today my dear?” I picked up a spring roll.

  “Rough. Sick. Dying. I’ve been in bed all day and just woke up. Max was just telling me you and James were talking all night so I had to call and find out how it went. Did you hit it off? Are you going on a date? Have my cupid skills finally worked?”

  “Well, funny you should mention that…”

  I told her about it all. From start to finish and that the meal was not the only disappointment of my Sunday.

  “Oh no, that’s awful!” It was half disappointment and half laughter in her voice.

  “Yep, and now he’s texting me wanting a repeat performance. What am I going to do?”

  “Well Jenny, it’s not all about size you know. You could try different positions or toys or oral…”

  “No Jenny. That’s something you do after years with the same guy to try and spice things up. Not with someone you just met.”

  “Damn. I thought he’d be perfect for you.”

  “We got on fine last night but we’re not at all compatible in the slightest. He needs someone from a different background, a bit more proper, with a tiny stomach and an even smaller vagina.” I finished off the last of the spring rolls. “So, did you have a good night? I barely saw you.”

  “From what I remember it was really good! But the thing I discovered is when you’re the bride people want to buy you drinks. I lost count of how many wines I had. Are you eating?”

  “Chinese. I ordered it before I’d left James’. That’s how hungry I was.”

  “Oh, you poor thing! That’s making me hungry actually. You always pick the best stuff for a takeaway.”

  “I thought you were feeling sick and dying?”

  “I am but… greasy food sounds perfect right about now. I’ll talk to you later, I need to text Max downstairs to order me some food.”

  “Haha you lazy sod, get out of bed! I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Bye!”

  10

  The next few weeks were fairly uneventful. James tried to arrange meeting up a few times but eventually got the hint and left me alone. I am still traumatised over that particular date, but at least I managed to watch Call The Midwife that night. Every cloud and all that. I did not come across Zack again, so work was pretty boring without any eye candy, and Sarah was too busy with Max to be able to meet up with me. Phil and I tried to arrange a date again, but we struggled to find a time we were both free.

  So, it was just me with Bing for company, although he eventually got sick of me and disappeared for two nights. When he returned he was sporting an unusual lump on the back of his neck. I tried to get close to have a look, but he was having none of it. I called the vets for advice and they wanted me to bring him in.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “Last time…”

  “It’s fine,” said the receptionist with trepidation, “there are two vets available so one of them can hold Bing down and he won’t be able to bite Dr Stevens again.”

  “Ok, if you’re sure.”

  The vet needed to be taken to A+E for emergency care after our last visit. There would be no permanent damage but twelve stitches later he could not use his hand for several weeks. I’m surprised they didn’t ban Bing from returning. Whenever we have had to go, which is only once a bloody year for his boosters, he creates such a drama. Other cats sit quietly in their carriers, but not Bing. It sounds like he’s in line at a slaughterhouse. It’s so embarrassing.

  Poor Dr Stevens. He was new to the practice at the time, and really good looking. He seemed really flirty when we had first met, but not anymore. The poor guy was not happy when he saw us walk through the door that morning.

  “Good morning, Dr Stevens.” I tried to sound jovial to clear the tension in the room.

  “Good morning,” he stared at Bing in his carrier whilst standing as far away from us as possible. I plonked Bing on the table and went to open the front to get him out. “Let’s just wait for Dr Judge, shall we?”

  “Oh, yes of course! Sorry…” The poor guy looked petrified. I could see sweat forming on his upper lip. As he pulled his hand up to wipe away the sweat I noticed the scar, it was hard to miss it.

  A grey-haired head peaked around the door, it was the unmistakable Dr Judge. A large, jolly man who had a smile for everybody, even for Bing. He’s been at the practise his entire veterinarian career, but you could tell he was never bored of his job. He loved it.

  “Hellooo! Have we not started yet, Andy?”

  “No, I erm, was waiting for you.” Dr Stevens stuttered.

  “Well, that’s ok. Hello Bing! How’re you feeling today?” he bent down to the carrier and Bing replied with an almighty howl. “Fantastic, glad to hear it. Do you want to try get him out?” he asked me.

  Do I want to go in there and get out the savage cat? Do you think there’s less chance of me being bitten just because he belongs to me? Out of all of us, he’s more likely to try and kill me first.

  “Sure, no problem.” I unzipped the front very slowly, a low growl echoing from the inside. “Come on, Bing, be a good boy.” Please, oh please be good. The front of the carrier dropped down just as Bing made his way to the back of it. Luckily, it opens at both ends. I leaned over to the other side and opened that end too which resulted in Bing sitting in the middle of it. Moron cat.

  Dr Judge stepped forward.

  “Come on now boy, we won’t be long. We just need to look at that neck of yours.”

  He lifted it up and tilted it so the cat had no choice but to topple out and on to the table. The hair on his back stood up on its end and his tail was as fluffed up as a feather duster. There was no mistaking the sound coming from him, he was angry. I would be hiding my shoes and handbags later as a precaution.

  “Right,” Dr Judge said, rolling his sleeves up, “I’ll hold him down Andy, and you can quickly look at his neck, ok?” Dr Stevens looked petrified. “I promise, he won’t get you again.”

  Dr Judge stroked Bing very gently behind his ears eventually moving to his neck and down his back. It relaxed him a little, but not enough. He had to act quickly. The second Bing looked up at me, Dr Judge made his move. It all happened so fast.

  Dr Judge used both his arms, one pushing down on Bings bottom and the other pushing down from his shoulders up to his head. He couldn’t move, not even an inch. And boy, was he pissed off. His little paws were leaving sweat marks on the table. He sounded like something from The Exorcist.

  “Now, look now.” Dr Judge ordered. “I can feel it under my thumb.”

  Dr Stevens waited a second, I’m assuming just to make sure Bing could not move, and then had a good luck in his neck.

  “It’s just a tick,” he said, sounding relieved that it could be cured there and then without the need for a return appointment. He quickly went into one of the drawers and pulled out a small, silver hook contraption. He went back into Bing’s neck and within seconds he pulled out this small, brown insect and placed it on a tissue. “It’s whole, I got all of it out.”

  “Goodo, Andy. Jenny, do you want to get his carrier ready?”

  I zipped up one of the sides and then put it in front of Bing so he could run straight back inside it. When the vet let go of him, he ran straight in and hissed at Dr Stevens who was stood at the other side in clear view. He suddenly went very pale. There were little puddles of sweat on the table which were either from Bing’s
paws or Dr Stevens’ upper lip.

  “Will I need to do anything?” I asked, trying to distract Dr Stevens before he passed out, but he didn’t hear me.

  “No,” Dr Judge said. “He will be fine. You can buy some tick prevention treatment like shampoo or a collar but I’m not sure how he would react to any of that given his disposition. Let’s just leave it for now, ey? If you notice anymore, just bring him back in.”

  Can I not just leave him here? He was going to make me pay for this later on.

  11

  Bing got over his traumatic morning in no time. All he needed to do was leave a massive poo on my pillow and he was back to his normal self. It’s probably a good thing that I never meet a man I want to bring home. Lord knows what this cat would do to scare them off forever. The last man to spend the night woke up to find his boxers had been half eaten and his shoelaces removed. I never did find them.

  There is always one man-friend that I can rely on when I am feeling lonely. Or, in this case, make up for having such a bad sexual experience. Dan and I worked together years ago. We have never been a couple, but every now and then we meet up and have some drinks and some sex with no strings attached. Everyone needs this kind of reliable friend, and right now, I needed him.

  “Hello stranger.” He said as he answered his phone.

  “Hello you, it’s been a while.”

  “It certainly has. How’ve you been?”

  “Same old same old. I found a gold mine under my house last month and bought a yacht which just sits in my garden as I’m about 200 miles from the sea. How about you?”

  “I can’t complain.”

  All our initial conversations were always the same. We didn’t really care about what was going on with each other. To be honest, I can’t even remember where he works or what car he drives. Only that he lives less than a mile away and it won’t take me long to shave my legs and get over there.

  “Are you free tonight?” I asked.

  “Well, let me check my calendar. Hmmm, well I am super busy being all super important and stuff, I don’t know if you know but I’m the new American president now.”

 

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