Friday, 27 February 2015
‘There is no tooth fairy’ Mary said for the umpteenth time that day. ‘There’s no tooth fairy, there’s no Santa Claus and we’re not all in this together. Basically we’re screwed, and no gormless grin or wave of a magic wand will help us get out of it.’ She looked at Kev who was grinning gormlessly at her and holding a magic wand in the air.
‘Kev, this isn’t Harry fucking Potter, I’m fifteen, I’m pregnant, you’re16 and the father. We’ve got no money, no jobs, no future, we’ve broken the law and my dad is going to rip your gonads off you and feed them to you in onion gravy. What the fuck are we going to do?’ What was really bothering Mary wasn’t that she’d kind of mucked up her future or that her dad would kill her. It was more that she’d mucked up her future and her dad was going to kill her with this dimwit. Yeah, he looked like Harry Styles, yeah he had pecs and abs but for fuck’s sake he had about as much brains as a premier league footballer and as much class as a frog, or was it the other way around. In fact both ways might have been being harsh on footballers and frogs.
‘I’ve got a plan!’ Kev said ‘and it’s as simple as my socks.’
Mary rolled her eyes.
‘Don’t roll your eyes until you’ve heard it,’ he said looking a little hurt. ‘Look, just tell your dad that we were up here in your room when there was a strange beam of light and an angel appeared and told you you were going to be give birth to the son of god. Simples!’
‘Kevin, this is serious.’
‘I’m being serious Mary, the other Mary was about your age when she had Jesus and her mother and father bought that story.’
‘Kevin just go home.’ Mary said. Kevin looked at her, still with the magic wand in his hand.
He left, and a tear fell to the floor. Mary needed a miracle now and not the one Kev was on about.
Mary didn’t believe in god, she didn’t believe in miracles, she certainly didn’t believe in angels, but right now she wondered if maybe someone, somewhere was on her side. Almost as soon as Kev had left the room, her period had started. She wasn’t pregnant, she was two weeks late and the test had been wrong, but she wasn’t pregnant.
She took our her phone and texted Kev.
‘No need for us to follow your daft little plan, I’m not pregnant.’
It took 4 minutes for him to reply, which was about 3 minutes longer than he took to get them into this mess. She looked at the message.
‘How do you know?’
Did he really not know that? Her thumb got to work.
‘I think we should split up.’
Wednesday, 25 February 2015
From the moment I first set eyes on Nicole, I thought we’d met before. It sounded like a corny chat up line but it wasn’t, I knew her, I knew I knew her, but for the life of us we couldn’t find a time and place that put us together. Maybe she was just one of those people who had a familiar face, or maybe we both got on the same train for a while or, maybe I was just mistaken, after all she seemed to have no recollection of me.
My friend Lucy had just introduced us and I was already besotted. She was a classy woman, late forties, all elegance and style. She oozed money and sexuality. She had milky green eyes that I found myself losing my train of thought in, she had jet black hair and legs that were made for the expensive stockings she was wearing. Her smile was sultry, her eyes looked happy. I took a punt and asked her if she fancied going somewhere else for a drink, she upped the ante and invited me back to her place.
The next few weeks were like a dream come true, I was being pampered by a gorgeous woman. We explored each other’s bodies and minds, and liked what we discovered. But something was troubling me; I felt there was a mystery about her, like something was locked away, and I couldn’t find the right key to open her up. She was like an aeroplane, although she glided serenely through life one felt she had a load of baggage. She had money, but didn’t seem to work, she never talked about what she did or what she had done and there was still this weird feeling that I knew her. I decided I should Google her. In the words of Julia Roberts, big mistake, big.
The results shocked me to the core. I was expecting one or two results but there were thousands. What did J Geils sing? ‘My blood runs cold My memory has just been sold, My angel is the centrefold. Angel is a centrefold.’ Oh my god! There were hundreds, no thousands of photos of Nicole in various stages of undress; 20 years younger admittedly but unmistakably her. She was gorgeous, stunning fantastic, naked. I clicked and clicked, I suppose I was looking for more current photos or harder core, but they were all soft, shiny and 20 years old. She’d obviously been a soft porn queen and even now had fan clubs and fan pages. I opened page after page looking at the familiar curves, smiles and shapes. Then I clicked on a link and saw her in sheer white stockings. Bang, that was how I knew her. I suddenly remembered that outfit, those poses, that mound of hair, how much pleasure had she given me as a 22 year old?
I don’t know how long I sat there clicking on those images. I was in shock. I didn’t know what to think. Thousands of young men had, and by the looks of things still, got their kicks from my woman. I should be proud, shouldn’t I? After all she was with me now? But somehow I felt jealous, like I shared her with countless others, could I handle that? Could I handle the thought that so many men had been intimate with her, even if they had been alone at the time? Maybe I should end it all.No, this was perverse, as I twenty year old I'd dreamt of ending up in bed with this very woman. I needed to pull myself together, my dream had come true, how many people could say that? I smiled to myself, I was a lucky man. I closed the links, and then realised the biggest problem facing me. I couldn’t hide it, could I? I had to tell her I’d found the key and unlocked her secrets. The tables were turned, how would she feel about me knowing that I’d been one of her fans?
She’d only been married two weeks when she called me, I knew she would eventually, but I wasn’t expecting it so soon. We’d been lovers right up to what she called her ‘real hen night’; an exhausting night of lovemaking that had the neighbours banging on the walls and the people from the Karma Sutra wondering if they needed a new chapter. Then, she’d walked away, told me she was never coming back, saying she could be an unfaithful girlfriend but not an unfaithful wife. I nodded, I was half expecting it and half grateful. It had started out as a bit of fun but she’d been like the waxing moon, growing on me every time I saw her. So I knew I would miss her, miss her smile, miss her touch, miss her smell, but it was time to move on, time to put this charade behind us and rejoin the human race. After all it had been two years, that was a long time to keep a secret, that was a lot of sneaking around behind Tom’s back, too much playing with fire, so nearly getting caught with a careless word here or a stray hair there.
I didn’t go to the wedding. I was invited but I couldn’t face it. Seeing the happy look on the bride and groom’s faces was too much for me. I thought it was best to let her start her new life without a reminder of her old.
I was in two minds when she called, I ached for her touch, but at the same time knew it would open a can of worms that I’d only just managed to get back into the tin. But she whispered promises down the phone that made my spine tingle. She promised to do that thing that only she could do. Call me weak, call me shallow but she melted my resistance. So here I was, putting the kids to bed, giving Tom a kiss goodbye, slipping into her favourite dress and heading out to meet my lover.
Tuesday, 24 February 2015
Elephants, the room was full of elephants. Big cuddly elephants, small ceramic elephants, wooden elephants, plastic elephants, pictures of elephants - everywhere I looked there was a trunk or a tusk or an elephant’s ass staring back at me. I reckoned there were at least 35-40 elephants in that room.
She’d not mentioned elephants for the entire evening. You’d think for someone more than a little obsessed by pachyderms she’d have brought them up in conversation. But no, she’d kept her elephantine fascination firmly under wraps.
‘Elephaaahaherher...’ I said as I heard her come into the room. The word trailed off as I looked around to see her standing before me wearing nothing but the cutest smile you could imagine. I stepped forward and kissed her, tasting her minty tongue. My hands hovered over her skin, exploring her shapes, her hand on my neck seemingly pulling my even closer to her.
We had sex like only strangers can, it was wild, passionate, carefree but something missing, as we both made love to our previous partners while making love to each other.
As we lay there smoking a cigarette feeling slightly self-conscious and sweaty, I looked around the room.
‘So what’s with all these elephants?’ I asked.
‘Every time my husband goes on a trip, he brings me back an elephant,’ she said matter of factly.
‘You’re married?’ I said and then notice the male paraphernalia around the room. Funny how you miss that when lust mists your eyes.
‘Does it matter?’ she asked. I supposed it didn’t really. I didn’t have any illusions this was anything other than a one-night stand.
‘So why are so many facing the wall?’ I asked.
‘Guilt,’ she said. ‘An elephant never forgets, so if I’ve taken a lover while Charlie is away, I can’t look at the elephant he gives me.’
I looked around the room, I was impressed, this woman had a lot of elephants’ backsides on display.
Monday, 23 February 2015
Tesco, Friday afternoon, carnage, utter carnage. Shoppers buying food like it was the last day on earth. Did these people not know that the supermarket would be open again tomorrow? Trolleys were packed sky high while shelves were looking a little threadbare; try as they might the staff were unable to keep up with the grabbing hands grabbing all they could.
The air crackled with tension, it was one of those days that if two hands settled on the last packet of cornflakes at the same time, all hell could break lose. There’d be scuffles over the scones, melees by the melons, and a rumpus over the rice. Every one was frazzled, at their wits end. It was as if it was a public audition for scowl factor.
Then there was silence, well if you could call wailing bells silence. The cacophony of the alarm had frozen everyone to the spot. A fire alarm in a supermarket is the last thing you expect, in a school yes, in a hotel maybe, but in a supermarket?
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, please stay calm, leave your trolleys and make your way to the exits. Leave your shopping and calmly make your way to the exits. Please do not run.’
The voice was calm but firm and firmly ignored; once the initial shock was over people ran, people screamed and people certainly weren’t going to leave their hard won shopping just because a fire alarm was ringing. Staff were powerless to stop the hordes of customers wheeling their unpaid for shopping out of the supermarket. Those who had just paid looked on with a sense on injustice as the majority got their weekly shop for free.
I opened my boot and started loading the loot.
‘There must be over 200 pounds worth here,’ I said to Jane who had just joined me and was helping me load the car. The sirens wailed as the police and fire brigade arrived but they wouldn’t be needed, this was a false alarm.
‘Shall I return the trolley?’ Jane said.
‘Nah, leave it, they can have our pound.’ I smiled. ‘Now let’s get out of here.’
I got in the passenger seat and Jane started the car but we didn’t go anywhere.
‘Shit!’ she said under her breath. I looked around to see what was upsetting her and there blocking us in was a police car and a supermarket security woman.
A policeman approached my side; I rolled down the window.
‘C’mon office, everyone left without paying, why are you singling us out?’ I asked with a smile.
‘I think you two are a little bit different don’t you?' he said, 'because your friend here,’ he nodded at Jane, ‘is on film setting off the fire alarm.’