Palmer's Green

It's a song one so no cubes today, but can you guess the song before the last line?

Random picture of a sunset as there are no cubes

Lisa was at some do in Palmer's Green feeling sorry for herself. She couldn't help notice that she was the oldest in the room, the music was awful and to her 30 year old eyes it even looked like the kids danced in a new way; it was enough to drive a man to drink, or girl in her case, in fact woman. She looked around to see if she could see her so called best friend, it was Laura’s idea that they came to this bloody party and then as soon as they walked in the door she'd disappeared leaving Lisa to fend for herself in alien conditions. Laura must have found somebody new to play with, probably that young boy she'd been talking to in the pub, the one who told her about this bloody party in the first place. It was a semi-private birthday party, Lisa thought Laura had said it was a 21st but looking at the kids in the room she wondered if it was actually an 18th. The club was called The Kitchen and the music sounded like it was being played on pots and pans, god Lisa sounded like her mother. How did Laura always end up with some toy boy on her arm and Lisa went home alone. I'm no good at chatting up, she thought to herself, that's why I always get rebuffed.

She drained the last dregs out of her bottle of Bud and went to the bar. One more beer she told herself then I'll go home.

‘Can I get you a drink?’

She looked round and saw Rolf her work colleague grinning at her. She’d didn’t really know Rolf and didn’t really like him , but right now she'd never been so pleased to see anyone.

‘Bottle of Bud please.’ she wasn’t going to turn down the offer. ‘What are you doing here? Not really your scene is it?’

‘Hark who's talking,’ Rolf’s smile was kinda cute. ‘I couldn't believe it when I saw you. At least I have an excuse, it's my kid sister's birthday, parents kinda leant on me. What's yours?’

Lisa smiled, ‘my mate Laura is snogging the face off some twenty year old somewhere.’

‘Ah right. right, I see, so that's why I’ve found you in the Kitchen at a Party.’


Did you guess? Here is the song.

The Promised Land

Kev couldn’t concentrate. He really should have been listening to ‘the Chief’ but his mind was elsewhere; about eighteen inches to the boss’s left to to be exact. He could hear his boss's voice but he couldn’t decipher the words. It was like the constant hum of a plane’s engine droning on and on. He tried to drag his mind back to the business in hand, but he couldn’t, it was impossible. Feint beads of perspiration formed on Kev’s forehead, he was hot and the room was airless. His nostrils filled with the smell of male sweat; his own? 

 To anyone else in the room Liz’s behaviour seemed innocence. She was leaning forward, her head turned towards the boss, arms arched on the desk, the back of her hands supporting her chin. Her pen hung idly in her right hand. She appeared to be listening intently to the old dinosaur’s monotonous monologue.

But Kev knew that the pen had been strategically positioned. He watched mesmerised as she gently, subtly used the pen to point the way. Slowly, ever so slowly it zigzagged its way down her cleavage and then painstakingly snaked its way back up. Her eyes, seemingly so locked on the boss, kept darting over to Kev, making sure he was transfixed by her little show.

Kev shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His trousers had just got tighter. He longed for the meeting to be over. People would drift away from the office, starting the long journey home to the suburbs maybe stopping off for a quick pint over at the Bridge Inn. Kev would turn down the invites - make little excuses and vague promises of catching them later in the hope that tonight would finally be the night Liz stopped teasing and started playing. He tried to look at the boss but his eyes drifted over to Liz again. God she was beautiful; her blonde shoulder length hair, showing off her beautiful neck. He loved that neck, could stare at it for hours, he’d kiss it for longer if only she’d let him. Her blue eyes flicked towards him again, he saw the slightest trance of a dimple on her cheek as she tried to suppress a smile. Why did she do this to him? Why did she torture him, tease him? Why wouldn’t she let him get to the promised land?

Satisfaction Guaranteed

This is part two of the Just a Gigolo story, find part 1 here. Part 3 here.  

I must admit I was pretty nervous, I suddenly noticed I was putting a little extra care into my preparations, after all I wasn't giving this away for free. That's right, I said yes, I wasn't going to at first, in fact my first answer had been no, but Christie was very persuasive, I said I'd say yes but didn't want the money but again Christie told me it was part of the deal. She told me Helen would see it as a business transaction, that money would make sure there was no emotional involvement - satisfaction guaranteed. Satisfaction guaranteed? Shit that put the pressure on, would she demand her money back if I failed to reach the expected standards? I suddenly felt the pressure.

When Christie told me Bryn had said yes I couldn't believe it. The bravado of the beer had worn off and now I wasn't so sure it was a good idea. I’d been complaining I hadn’t been getting  any lately and we could believe that it had been 13 months since my last shag, no wonder I was horny. We'd started talking about paying for sex, what a conversation, I wondered if anyone overheard us. I'd never considered it before but both Christie and Zoe had said they’d fantasied about it. We discussed what it would feel like handing over the money, would it feel seedy or dirty or just bloody exciting. We huddled into the corner of the pub so no one could see us and Googled male escorts on Christie’s iPad. The results were a mixed bag, some too good to be true; hunks with a six pack and a tight arse that looked like they were too in love with themselves to have any left over to share. Then there were shifty looking chancers, out to make a quick buck; thinking about the money not the woman. To be honest I was up for it, it might have been the wine talking or the girls egging me on but I wanted to play the game, have some fun. It'd been a while since I had a bloke and to be honest right now I couldn't be bothered with getting one, but I was horny, by Christ I was horny; there's only so much you can do yourself. Why not pay for it? Why not? Men did. I didn't want a husband, I wanted a shag, and I didn't want a drunk bloke from a bar who would care only about himself. But I also didn't want some plastic poser or some lustful loser, I wanted just an average joe, a good lover. That's when we started talking about Bryn.

Christie had always said Bryn was a good lover, someone who put her needs first. That's exactly what I wanted. Surely that is what a gigolo should do after all the customer should always come first but how would we know, I didn't want a sexy sculptured body I wanted satisfaction guaranteed.

We'd agreed I'd go to her place, she'd promised to buy the wine, I was glad of that, I needed to relax probably more than she did. I rang the doorbell, and waited. She looked good, actually prettier than the photos I’d seen of her. She was in a little black dress, it hung nicely on her body, accentuated her figure. I followed her into the lounge enjoying how the dress swished with each step.

It was a little awkward, we sat and chatted for a little while the shadow of the real reason we were there hung over us like a rain cloud.  She was nice but I couldn’t relax.

‘Shall we sort out the money then, get it out the way?’ The words sounded contrived, like she’d rehearsed it several times. It was then that I realised this was a game to her, she was playing out a fantasy but hadn’t quite had the bottle to go to a real whore. The realisation relaxed me.

She handed over the money. I stood up and reached in my pocket, took out a roll of notes and added the crisp bank machine fresh ones she had given me to it. I usually carry a wallet but I thought it would look a little middle class; a roll of notes would suit a gigolo. I kept eye-contact with her as she handed me the money and after putting the cash away I ran the back of my finger down her cheek, hardly touching her skin, she smiled, I knew I had her.

I have to admit I was disappointed at first, I know I said I wanted normal but this guy was ordinary, he was nothing to write home about, not even something to mention in passing in a text. He lacked confidence, his body language was poor, his chit-chat was boring; Christ he was more nervous than me. Was I really going to pay good money for this? What did Christie see in this guy? But I couldn’t back out now.  Let’s get this over with I thought to myself. ‘Shall we sort out the money then.’ I said to him.

They were like the magic words, his body language changed in an instant, he took the cash and took control. He put the money away and then touched my face. Bang, I already knew what Christie meant, his eyes burning into me, the gentlest of touches - this was going to be good.

Boomerang

Suki had been promised a new computer and it was about time too. Her old laptop was like a breeze block, it was at least 7 years old, still ran on XP and took an age to start. She could get to work, start it up, pop down to Starbucks, come back with a skinny latte, chat to her colleagues, go to the toilet and still wait 10 minutes for it to load. The fact that it shut itself down at least twice a day exasperated that fact as she had to do 2 more restarts. There was only so much skinny latte a girl could drink. Even after it had got up and running it was a slow as a tortoise on downers.

So today was the day, she took the clapped out old machine down to the cave as the IT department was known, gave it to one of the cavemen, the one they called helmet head because of his interesting hairstyle and left, knowing that in 2 hours if all went to plan she’d have a new toy.

What do they say about the best laid plans of mice and men? Less than 40 minutes late the caveman called helmet head was on the phone.

‘Er little problem, we can’t start the new computer, we’re sending it back to the factory. It’ll be ready in a week.’

‘So what do I do until then?’ There was a tone to Suki voice, that was pleading with the caveman not to send her back the old laptop.

‘Er, well I’ll bring up your old one. It’s lasted this long I am sure it can last another day or two.’

A week later helmet head rang Suki to tell her the new machine was back from the factory. ‘Good as new’ he told her, ‘we’ll have you up and running in no time.’

So Suki went down once more into the cave, this time it had to work, didn’t it?

It didn’t! 3 hours later the call came.

‘I’m sorry there is a problem with the transfer of data, it is taking longer than we thought. I’m going to a conference and I need to leave so I’ve cancelled the transfer.’

‘So what do I do until now?’ That tone was pleading back but the answer was the same. ‘Come and get your old one, I’ll be back in the office on Friday. Bring it down then.’

Suki was sick of it. When had her computer morphed into a bloody boomerang?

Friday came and went, she called the IT department but there was no answer, it turned up they had an away day to the mountains. Suki shuddered to think what an IT group bonding session looked like.

Finally at 4pm on Monday helmet hair came in with the new computer. ‘All fired up and ready to go,’ he announced with a smile and a fiddle of his glasses.

Suki took the new machine and once she had cleansed it with an antiseptic wipe started exploring.

It was fantastic, like magic, so fast, so efficient she loved it already.

But then disaster – there was a crackle a fizz and then smoke emerged from the stupid device. She quickly called the cavemen.

Two minutes later helmet head was in her office again holding her old computer.

Postscript 

Suki did eventually get her new computer, a fully functioning machine that she now hates, why? Well the laptop is so quick she has to do twice as much work.  :-) 

The Meeting

Toby looked down on the river from his vantage point high up over the town. This was his favourite view, he loved the juxtaposition of the old, man-made industrial buildings next to the natural beauty of the river. Not that the old buildings were ugly, quite the opposite, they were splendidly grand in a Victorian way.  But Toby wasn’t there to look at the view, he was there to meet a girl.

He was nervous, this was their first date and he couldn’t believe she had said yes to him. 
He’d first gone in the pub for a beer on his way home abuot three months ago. He’d been feeling kinda down and didn’t want to sit in his cold flat alone. So he popped into the pub and that’s when he first saw her.

Her smile had been the first thing he’d noticed, but not her mouth, her eyes. They sparkled, shone and smiled at him. Her mouth was vaguely lopsided, one side of her smile opened ever so slightly wider than the other. There was something about that smile, the combination of lopsided mouth and shining eyes and the cheeky charm of it that had Toby in a trance.

He went back to the pub regularly after that first visit; if he noticed she was working he’d pop in and spend an evening with her smile. He didn’t mind that she used the smile with the other customers, no he didn’t get jealous; as long as he could see her beautiful face and magic smile he was happy.

Eventually after many false dawns he got up the courage to ask her out. So sure was he that she was going to say no, that he hadn’t prepared where to take her. When amazingly she’d said yes, he’d panicked and suggested they met at this vantage point and go for a walk. A walk? That was hardly the most exciting idea for a first date, but there was no point in worrying about that now.

He turned around from his favourite view and saw his new favourite view coming towards him. The sunshine suited her, her summer dress hugged and released her body, showing her contours and then hanging free. His heart was beating and his stomach full of butterflies, but he was so pleased to see she’d brought her smile with her.