An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy) (14 page)

              I was enjoying the final ten minutes of my break, thinking about Melissa, when someone else joined me in the kitchen.

              She smiled at me as she crossed the threshold. Dark features, glaring eyes.

              ‘Hey,’ I said meekly.

              She didn’t reply. She went straight to the fridge, opened it and ducked down to peer inside, her tight buttocks thrust outwardly as she did so.

              ‘I’m Kieran,’ I said anxiously. The perky cheeks were less than a foot away from me, wiggling and gyrating. ‘And-- and, you are?’

             
She’s flirting,
I thought to myself
. Bums don’t move like that. It’s not natural.

              Like Melissa she was wearing a knee length skirt, but unlike Melissa, her legs weren’t wrapped in opaque tights, they were bare and exposed.

              ‘Do you like what you see?’ she said without turning around.

             
Is she talking to the fridge?

             
‘I guess.’

              She turned, closed the fridge and sat down opposite me. She had taken out a yogurt and, after peeling back the lid, she began to lick the creamy substance off its underside, watching me as she did so.

              I felt awkward and didn’t know where to look. I began to lick specks of excess mayonnaise from my fingers and quickly stopped, pretending to inspect my nails instead. I didn’t want her to think I was reciprocating.

              She was attractive -- her solid body and raven beauty displayed a woman of no more than thirty-five, the superfluous skin around her neck and the spider web wrinkles in the corner of her eyes gave away her true age -- but she radiated a devilish aura that suggested she would chew me up and spit me out.

              I looked into her eyes again. She had finished with the lid of the yogurt and was now working the tip of her tongue around the lip.

              ‘Do you want a spoon?’ I asked.

              She quickly cleaned the lip and put the yogurt down on the table. She rested her elbows on the sleek surface and leaned across; close enough for me to smell the strawberry flavours curdling in her mouth.

              ‘I’ve been watching you Kieran,’ she spoke softly; I could feel the words on my face. ‘I’ve been admiring you.’

              I hadn’t seen her until she walked into the kitchen. There were a dozen or so employees in the main room. I had met with a few -- including Melissa -- and exchanged friendly smiles or nods with a few more. The sultry cougar hadn’t been one of them.

              ‘Do you want me to show you a good time?’ she spoke in even softer tones, there was a euphoric, almost orgasmic edge to the words. So much so that I had to check to see what she was doing with her hands.

              ‘Sure,’ I said. I still felt awkward under her promiscuous gaze, but she was attractive and I hadn’t had sex with anyone since the storeroom succubus.

              I liked Melissa, but I was still too awkward when it came to sex and relationships. Melissa was innocent, shy; I would have to make all the moves with her. But the glint in the eyes of the cougar suggested that I would barely need to move, it said
I have some things to teach you
, and I was desperate to learn.

              The tip of her tongue popped out of her mouth again. She used it to gently lick her lips before leaning forward and flicking it against mine.

              I thought she was going in for a kiss; I opened my mouth, moved forward. She pulled back an inch. I felt like an idiot. I instinctively tried to hide my embarrassment with a cough and fired spittle over her face.

              She didn’t react. ‘In the stationary cupboard,’ she said softly, ignoring a droplet of saliva on her forehead. ‘Ten minutes.’ She sunk forward, teased my lips open with her tongue, kissed my teeth, licked the tip of my nose, and then pulled back. She had left the room before I had time to wonder just how crazy she was.

              The next ten minutes were even more awkward than the previous ten, as I couldn’t find the stationary cupboard and had an erect and increasingly agitated penis to deal with. I swept through the building like James Bond, keen for the bulge in my pants not to be seen as I checked door after door, looking but failing to find any marked
Stationary
.

              I hoped the erection would die, and indeed I pleaded with it to do just that. But my penis seemed to thrive on anxiety, and the more nervous I grew the more
it
grew. There was also a little voice inside me screaming
‘I’m gonna have sex, I’m gonna have sex,’
which was hard to ignore.

              The majority of the rooms in the building were empty. The company was a fairly recent start-up and had seemingly inherited a mansion to help it grow.

              Annoyed, frustrated, and finally growing limp, I ducked out of the shadows after twenty minutes of searching. That’s when I heard a noise: a hushed squeak, like the warning call of a dying rodent.

              The door ahead of me was open a touch; I could see a thin strip of blackness where the tanned wood met the magnolia doorframe.

              There was movement in the darkness, illuminated slightly by the fluorescent lights in the corridor. A grey shuffling. Something living, something big.

              I heard the noise again. Louder this time. More urgent.

              I remained standing. Delighted that my erection had dampened back to flaccidity now that I was apparently being watched by a giant fucking rat.

              The door opened without warning, swinging wide and proud on its axis. I made an instinctual jump backwards.

              Tanning in the doorway, illuminated in a jaundiced glow by the fluorescent light from the corridor, was the cougar. She was stark naked.

              My blood rushed south again. I remained still, caught in a trance.

              In the sickly glow her pale flesh looked orange. As with her tight features and outwardly visible figure, the naked body before me professed to be a lot younger than it was. Her breasts -- no doubt fake, but impressive nonetheless -- stood firm above a streamline stomach, from which only a thin slither of extra flesh hung, descending southwards towards a clean shaven pubic area.

              I dove into the room, brushing past her warm body. She smelled of lilies, desire and shame. The scent of a cougar.             

              She snapped on the light and told me to get undressed.

              ‘Sorry I’m late,’ I said, unbuttoning my pants and letting them fall to my ankles. ‘You know how it is.’

              I kicked off my shoes and then my trousers. ‘So, stationary cupboard eh? Good thing it’s not an actual cupboard, we’d never get moved. I’m not even sure you’d fit,” I paused before pulling off my sweatshirt. “Not that you’re fat or anything.
I
wouldn’t fit either.” She didn’t seem to hear, her eyes were on my boxer shorts, waiting for them to disappear.

              “Lot of cupboards in this place,” I continued. “You’d think they’d all be stationary cupboards wouldn’t you?’ my fingers fumbled nervously on the elastic of my boxers. She was still staring in anticipation, it made me anxious.

              ‘What?’ she said, snapping out of her trance. She lifted her eyes to my face, giving me the perfect opportunity to slide out of my underwear.

              ‘Well, you know. It’s a stationary company isn’t it? I mean--’

              ‘Shut up and fuck me,’ she moved forward and grabbed me.

              ‘What about protection?’ I asked timidly.

              ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she grabbed my penis roughly, I yelped and moved back. ‘I’m on the pill.’ She moved onto me again, grabbing with more ferocity this time. I closed my eyes and let her.

              ‘I was thinking more about me,’ I said.

              I hadn’t bothered about protection with Louisa; it hadn’t even crossed my mind. A few weeks ago I had seen an advert about Sexually Transmitted Infections. After that a day rarely went by when I didn’t imagine that my urine was off-colour; my semen hadn’t always looked like that and that pimple was really a small infectious wart. The paranoia dissipated a few months ago, but it was still fairly fresh in my mind.

              ‘You’ll be fine,’ she insisted.

              ‘Really?’ I practically squealed. She had a hold of my balls now, and it felt like she had something against them. ‘But I don’t know where you’ve been.’

              She stopped, released my testicles from her grip and took a step back.

              ‘I didn’t mean it like that. That sounded bad,’ I backtracked, ‘what I meant was--’

              You’re a slut and are probably diseased,
I said to myself.

              ‘--You can never be too sure.’

              That was the slogan of the advert. It was the only thing I could think of, it was hard to think with an erection and aching balls.

              ‘I don’t have a condom,’ she leant back against the shelving unit, placed her palm on her stomach and slowly moved it downwards with splayed fingers. ‘Do you want to get dressed and walk away? Or do you want to fuck me?’

              I thought about walking away, but not for long.

              We did it up against the shelves. She was flexible and nimble for her age. I wondered if she wasn’t in her thirties after all, and just had really poor skin.

              I came instantly. I had experience with Louisa, and I hoped it would turn me into a sex machine, it didn’t. I pushed on regardless, wondering just what damage I had subjected my testicles to over the last few minutes and if they would survive the final push.

              She was a screamer and I worried that someone would hear us. I had images of walking back into the call-room to catcalls and jeers. I imagined a look on Melissa’s face, one of disappointment, of shame. It said:
I thought you were better than that, I thought you liked me. I had such high hopes for you.
I clamped my mouth onto hers at every opportunity, silencing her by sticking my tongue into her mouth. She resisted initially, shaking her head from side to side as she tried to enjoy her own ride without me interrupting it, but eventually she yielded and her screams died in my mouth.

              ‘You have stamina,’ she said afterwards. She was breathless, her face flushed, her hair all over the place. She looked like someone who had just had sex, but, I reasoned, she was in her forties and, like my dad used to say whenever a woman was ill or acting strange,
it’s probably the menopause
. I was sure my fellow employees would jump to that conclusion as well.

              ‘Thank you,’ I said proudly.

              ‘And you like to kiss don’t you?’

              I smiled shyly.

              I climbed back into my clothes and watched as she did the same. ‘So, back to work,’ I said, wondering if I should kiss her affectionately or thank her, I didn’t know how this situation worked when the other person didn’t swear or walk away. ‘Which cubicle is yours?’ I asked.

              ‘I don’t work here,’ she said placidly.

              ‘Oh.’

              ‘Do you really think I would work in a hole like this?’ she wondered in tones of disgust.

              ‘I guess not,’ I said, confused slightly. ‘So, what are you doing here?’

              ‘Helping out, killing time,’ she shrugged impassively. ‘Whatever. I’m just here because my husband runs the place.’

              ‘Husband?’

              She didn’t reply, she just smiled and planted a kiss on my bemused cheek. Then she was gone, leaving me in a small room wondering how I had missed the signs and contemplating how long I had before the grumpy manager killed or fired me.

              On the walk back to my desk I felt like I was a criminal being paraded through the streets. I was sure all eyes were on me, judging me, waiting to pelt rotten fruit at my head.

              I made it to the cubicle next to mine before someone spoke.             

              ‘Where you been?’

              His name was Jack, or John. It might have been Jason. I had met him earlier in the day, he had introduced himself along with two others and he was an unremarkable man.

              ‘I got lost,’ I said flatly.

              ‘Lost?’ he didn’t seem to believe me. ‘The building’s not that big.’

              ‘Lot of doors,’ I said, as if that cleared me.

              ‘But this is the only main room. It’s
the
main room, it’s mass--’

              ‘That’s beside the point,’ I said, feeling flushed under his accusing glare.

              He stalled, as if waiting for an explanation, when one didn’t come he shrugged it off and changed topic. ‘You see Mrs Mann come through?’

              I looked at him with raised eyebrows.

              ‘The boss’s wife,’ he explained.

              I shook my head and turned a deeper shade of red.

              ‘She just passed,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘She looked like she’d been on a roller-coaster, wonder what got into her.’

              ‘
Nothing
, I don’t think
anything
got into her,’ I coughed and ducked under the cubicle wall, exposing a face on fire. ‘I’m sure. I mean it was probably the menopause,’ I finished with a laugh, immediately regretting it. Too high, too abrupt, too fake.

              I waited for a prompt reply. It didn’t come. I lifted my head up ever so slightly, peering above the partition wall. I was half expecting him to be taking notes or phoning the manager to tell him I had slept with his wife.

              He wasn’t on the phone, nor was he writing on a notepad. He was looking straight at me, his eyes waiting to meet mine as they popped up.

              I laughed again, and awkwardly pretended to be playing a childish game with him. I cleared my throat and then moved my attention to my call list and my work. Eventually he stopped staring at me.