An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy) (16 page)

              I sat defiantly next to Mrs Mann. She had collared me outside the building and lured me to her car. She had adjusted her seat all the way back and slipped out of her knickers before I had even looked at her.

              ‘Come on,’ she pleaded alluringly. Waiting for me to climb on top of her.

              The car was parked right outside the building. Anyone entering or exiting would see us together. This was what she wanted. Derek and I were right, she was a bitch.

              ‘I refuse to have sex with you until you tell your husband I never had sex with you,’ I ordered.

              She sat upright again, a sterner look on her face. ‘He knows?’

              I turned rapidly in the small confines of the passenger seat, I could feel the faux leather cover squeak against my jacket. ‘You didn’t know?’

              ‘Well, he hasn’t been home for a few days,’ she said softly, trailing off.

              ‘He’s been sleeping in his office,’ I said matter-of-factly. Turning back to face the building, pulling the trails of my jacket with me.

              ‘I didn’t know.’

              ‘Well, you do now.’

              I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She seemed hurt, she looked introspective. All along I had assumed she was some form of life-sucking sex demon, now I realised she might actually have feelings.

              ‘And he thinks it’s you?’ she asked.

              I shook my head. ‘I don’t want him to either,’ I said. ‘I have a
thing
-- a potential thing anyway -- with a woman. I like her. I don’t want her to know.’

              Mrs Mann nodded. She was staring out of the windscreen, towards the building, her eyes caught in the contemplations of the middle distance.

              ‘I thought you wanted him to know,’ I said, feeling slightly befuddled about her intentions.

              ‘I didn’t. I
did
,’ she shook cobwebs out of her head. ‘I don’t know. I
thought
I did. I enjoyed the rush of him finding out, and, I guess, maybe I wanted to hurt him, to pay him back--’

              ‘For what?’

              ‘He doesn’t fuck me anymore.’

              ‘So you get revenge by fucking everyone else?’

              She nodded.

              ‘Okay,’ I couldn’t help but smile at the madness of it. I felt a sudden need to leave; being with her was corrupting my sanity. ‘I have to go,’ I said, gripping the door handle. ‘Just don’t tell him, okay?’

              Her head was hung in thought.

              ‘I won’t.’

              I climbed out of the car when a thought struck me and forced me to dip my head back in. ‘Oh,’ I said, waiting for her to look at me, catching her eyes in a smile. ‘If it helps, tell him you were fucking a guy named Alan.’

              ‘Alan? What did he do?’

              ‘I don’t know, but he’s a dick, he probably did something to deserve it.’

              Mr and Mrs Mann made up the same day. Their argument could be heard all over the building and it culminated in some very aggressive sex, which could be heard all the way to the car-park.

              Afterwards Mr Mann came out of his office with his fly unbuttoned, his shirt astray. A large smile on his face. He sacked Alan without explanation and then went back in his office for another ear-busting session with his wife.

              As luck would have it, there
was
an Alan who worked at the company. Obviously he wasn’t the guy I was thinking of, but it was far too late by the time I realised.

              A few weeks later Mrs Mann grabbed me in the hallway and bundled me into the storeroom. She kissed me deeply -- without tongue -- and then pulled back. I was protecting my groin and about to plead with her not to have sex with me when she pressed a finger to my lips, whispered
‘thank you’
into my ear, and then backed out and left me alone with the one of the most awkward erections I have ever had.

              Through no intentions of my own I had sparked the sexual relationship that she had always wanted with her husband. I had also started a relationship with Melissa outside of work. We had been on our first date, and although we had only exchanged a brief kiss at the end of that date, I felt better about that moment then I did about the whole sordid affair with Mrs Mann. It felt real, natural. It felt like I was onto something good.

10

Love in the Work Place Part Three: Melissa

              After a fairly productive first date at the cinema (no moments of embarrassing recall, one memorable kiss) Melissa and I arranged to see each other the following weekend. She gave me her phone number and asked me to call, even though we would see each other at work throughout the week.

              On the first date I had suggested the cinema after she mentioned a film she wanted to see. For the second date she didn’t drop any hints and I was left to my own devices. Sensing that would lead to trouble, I consulted Matthew.

              ‘Blow her mind,’ Matthew told me over a pint and a game of pool. ‘Take her somewhere she’ll remember.’

              ‘Like?’ I asked, leaning lazily on my cue as I watched him line up a long shot on the yellow.

              ‘I don’t know,’ he said distantly, sinking the shot. ‘That’s up to you.’ He stood up, looked me in the eyes. ‘But it has to be fucking good, be impressive, be different. Give her something to remember you by. Something to tell all of her little friends.’

              ‘Remember me by? I’m not dying.’

              He took a long drink and grinned at me over the rim of the glass. ‘Listen, she’ll be expecting dinner, don’t matter if you’re skint or not.’

              ‘I am,’ I nodded. I really was.

              ‘Well, seen as you’re taking this route, a dinner is the done thing. And you don’t wanna do the done thing.’

              ‘
This route?
’

              ‘Asking her out for a date an’ all that.’

              ‘I like her, what else am I supposed to do?’

              ‘Leave that shit for the romantics and the films. Nowadays, you like a girl; you take her out, get her pissed and fuck her.’

              ‘How charming.’

              ‘Way of the world mate.’ He finished his drink, still grinning proudly, forever endowed with a sense of hilarity. ‘Anyway, what was I saying?’ he frowned, pondered, ‘something special!’ he said, his eyebrows raised in glee. ‘Surprise her, delight her. Blow her fucking mind and then maybe she’ll blow yours.’

              ‘We could just go to KFC; she said she liked fast food.’

              ‘You ever feel horny after you’ve eaten?’ he asked plainly.

              ‘I don’t think so.’

              ‘Exactly!’ he raised a hand and an outstretched finger like he’d had a Eureka moment. ‘Neither will she. Look,’ he put down the cue and laid his hands on both my shoulders. ‘Listen to your uncle Matthew. Take her somewhere different. Surprise her. Romanticise her. Ply her with drink. She’ll be grateful. She’ll probably let you fuck her up the arse.’

              ‘Are you drunk?’

              ‘Very much so.’

              Despite Matthew's questionable toxicity, I followed his advice. Melissa was my first real girlfriend, the first person I felt a special attraction to, I wanted a date that matched the uniqueness of the relationship.

              I arranged everything for a perfect Saturday afternoon. A drive to the seaside. A stroll on the dunes. A picnic on the beach, and an evening in my flat, under the glow of candles, where we could get to know each other with a few glasses of wine.

              I spent all week planning it.

              My flat alone took two days of clearing and cleaning. I had only been living in it for a couple of months but in that time it had accumulated all the detritus of a bachelor life. Magazines, papers, clothes, dirty dishes, pizza boxes and empty pop cans lay strewn about like paint flecks on a Jackson Pollock canvas.

              I picked Melissa up around noon and headed for the seaside. I didn’t know where we were going, but I was confident I could find my way to the coast.

              Melissa was excited. She had an inkling I was planning something when I asked if she was free during the day, but as the car coasted along in the general direction of the sea, she was practically bubbling with childish glee.

              ‘Roller-rink?’ she asked.

              ‘No.’

              ‘Tenpin Bowling?’

              ‘No.’

              ‘The circus?’

              ‘No.’

              ‘The beach?’

              I hesitated. ‘No,’ she didn’t seem to notice.

              ‘You’re not taking me abroad are you?’

              ‘To France?’

              She nodded.

              ‘No.’

              ‘Hm,’ she put a finger inquisitively on her chin. ‘Are you taking me to the woods to murder me?’

              ‘Damn. You’ve guessed it.’

              ‘Oh joy!’ she exclaimed with a grin.

              ‘Act surprised though won’t you?’

              ‘Of course,’ she nodded. ‘I’m sure I will be.’

              I stopped following the road signs when I saw the sea on the horizon, then I just followed the blue and pretended I knew where I was going.

              ‘The beach!’ Melissa exclaimed. ‘So you’re not going to brutally murder me after all.’

              I pulled the car into a small car-park. Gravel chips crunched underneath the tyres as I manoeuvred into a free space. The car-park was full, at least a dozen cars were crammed into the small space, but I couldn’t see anyone around.             

              The gravel foundation stopped at a ridge of thick, wild grass which stretched long and ascendantly into the distance, beyond which I could just make out the sea at the point it converged with the pale blue sky.

              A wind kicked across the grassy dunes and cut through the car-park and my short-sleeved shirt, raising the hairs on my arms and my partially exposed chest.

              I took my coat from the backseat and slipped it on before handing Melissa hers. She wrapped the padded arms around her body and tucked her neck into the plush lining, peering at me above a spiked collar.

              ‘It’ll be warmer on the beach,’ I assured her.

              She smiled to tell me that she didn’t mind.

              ‘Come on,’ I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close, stealing her heat.

              I set off across the dunes with Melissa under one arm and a picnic basket cradled in the other. We walked along a sandy path that cut through the thick grass, and wove between hardy flowers, mounds of dirt, carelessly dropped litter, pebbles, rocks and curious insects.

              ‘I’m not scared of bugs,’ I assured Melissa after a slightly feminine attempt to avoid a swaying moth. ‘I just think the world would be a better place without them,’ I waved a hand around my head to make sure the brightly coloured insect had disappeared.

              ‘I don’t think the world can function without them.’

              ‘I’m sure we’d manage,’ I said, picking up the dropped basket and wrapping my arm back around Melissa.

              She tilted her head and frowned at me, she was about to call me a sissy, when I interrupted her.

              ‘Look, other people,’ I said, nodding ahead and smiling victoriously when Melissa followed my gaze.

              We had been walking along the path for ten minutes, taking the scenic route around the wildlife encrusted edges. The beach was ahead of us now; we could just make out a few blobs of the human variety resting on its surface.

              At Melissa’s insistence, and to my delight, we walked further on until we found an empty section of the beach. Whilst there I took out a knitted blanket from the basket and stretched it across the cleanest square of sand I could find.

              A heavy sigh escaped Melissa’s mouth and she flopped down onto the blanket, stretching out as I watched her admirably.

              Further down the beach I could see a small group of people enjoying the mild sunshine and the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore. A few of them were strewn out on the sand, in deck chairs or on blankets similar to the one Melissa writhed on. There was a lot of pink amongst them, and small dark patches indicative of Speedos or trunks around their groins.

              It had occurred to me to wear a pair of trunks and see if Melissa fancied a dip in the ocean, but it was cold, I hated wearing trunks and we weren’t kids. A picnic was fine.

              ‘They must be swingers or something,’ Melissa sat up and followed my gaze. ‘Or a coach holiday of oldies. My parents do it all the time. Old people, kids and dogs. They all love to gather on the beach.’             

              I nodded and began to take out the prepared food. We had a few hours before we went back to my flat, but I prepared a light meal anyway, just in case the picnic on the beach led to something that a full stomach wouldn’t appreciate.

              I laid everything out and sat down next to Melissa, facing the ocean.

              ‘I never knew you were such a romantic,’ she said softly, turning to smile at me.

              ‘Me neither.’

              I kissed her, tasting the salty moisture of the sea air on her lips.

              When I pulled back I noticed the pink blobs in the distance had stopped frolicking in the sea, they seemed to be looking our way. I was sure that even the seated oldies had perked up to peer at us. I shrugged it off as paranoia and tucked into a tuna sandwich.