Thursday, 5 January 2017
One Night Stand
For audio click here
Grav woke up with a start. He could still smell Cyndi’s perfume, but the bed was empty next to him. He rubbed his face and then rubbed his balls and listened for signs of life in the flat. All was quiet. She’d been the most beautiful woman he’d ever had set eyes on let alone gone to bed with. Long, long legs, miles of nylon encasing shapely calves and thighs. Her breasts were small, but beautifully formed and stomach was so flat he could have ironed his shirt on it if he hadn’t been so busy drinking tequila off it. Women like her didn’t come on to men like Grav. Come to think of it, no women came on to Grav, but Cyndi had smiled at him at the bar, offered to buy him a drink and then suggest they got a taxi back to his. Once there, well that was a story he’d send in to a pornographic magazine. He wished she was still here so he could taste her beauty again.
Grav got up and looked around for his boxer shorts. He smiled when he saw them hanging from the wardrobe door; how did they get there? He plucked them off and pull them on, picked up a t-shirt from the floor, sniffed it and pulled it over his head. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and smiled.
“You’re the man,” he said. He looked an inch taller, a bit buffer and a lot cuter than he looked eight hours ago.
In the kitchen, he caught his reflection again in the kettle. Would he ever wipe the smirk off his face? He couldn’t wait to tell the boys in work. They’d never believe him, but he’d taken a couple of selfies in the cab, so he had proof. He’d got her phone number too.
He stirred his coffee and went back in the bedroom. Her smell still lingered in the air and the gormless grin was still plastered on Grav’s face. Time to look at the photos he’d taken. He put the coffee on the bedside table and picked up his jeans. Hmm, his phone wasn’t there, nor on the bedside table. He went back to the living room; it wasn’t in the usual places. He tried to remember what they’d done when they got in last night, but his head was hazy. There was no sign of the phone in the kitchen. He’d call himself from the computer and hope the phone wasn’t on silent. His computer, where was it? It wasn’t on the coffee table where it always was. He lifted a cushion from the sofa, no computer, no phone. Kitchen counter, no computer.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” There was no sign of it in the bedroom either, under the bed, on the floor, in the wardrobe, on the bedside table, under the bed again. Not just the computer, no phone, no wallet. Grav sat on his bed with his head in his hands. Cyndi might have been beautiful but she wasn’t worth this. He had to call the police, he looked around for his phone before remembering that was why he had to call the police. He lay back on the bed.
“Shit!” Grav sat up.
“Shit!” Grav stood up.
“Shit!” Grav went to his jacket and dug inside his pockets.
“Shit!” it was gone, his security pass and a memory stick with the designs, gone. This had just gone from serious to fucking serious. He’d been fucked all night and now he was completely fucked. He lay back on the bed and screamed.
Posted by Gareth at 10:30