Donna looked at him, taken aback by the use of ‘we’, but comforted by his being there.
The pair climbed the staircase slowly, drained by the day.
As Derek opened the door, Donna felt relaxed by the Derek odours escaping to her nose. There was a musty warmth in the air that was hugely comforting and this time it wasn’t sick.
‘Right, I’ll put the kettle on, shall I? Have a seat.’
Donna did not sit; she hovered by the work surface and looked at Derek appreciatively.
‘Thank God you were there, Derek.’
‘Oh, it was nothing. I hardly did anything.’
‘That’s not what Wesley said. He said that if you hadn’t come along and scared them off then they would’ve gotten away with the money, and fuck knows what they would’ve done with that knife. A fucking knife! How can you hold a knife up to another person for no fucking reason, all for a couple of hundred pounds. It’s sick. They’d better catch them. It’s sick, fucking sick!’ she spat viciously.
‘I think we ought to have biscuits, don’t you?’ Derek suggested, neatly arranging them onto a plate.
Donna just nodded as she looked at him. It wasn’t that he was particularly handsome or particularly funny or that he had a stupendous personality. He was like a hot water bottle, warm and inviting and always there when you needed him. Granted, he muffled his words and could hardly construct a proper sentence, but everything he said he meant. He was genuine, something so rare in a man that it was like finding a nugget of gold in a fat steaming turd.
Clearing some of the debris from the couch, Derek placed the biscuits on the coffee table and Donna eventually sat down.
‘Tea or Coffee?’ he shouted, returning to the kitchen.
‘Coffee, thanks, Derek.’
‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘Milk with two, thanks.’
‘Green or blue?’ he quizzed.
‘What? Can I not just have it a brownie beige colour?’ she joked.
‘No, the cup, I’ve got lots of different colours,’ he answered, wondering how on earth Donna could have suspected that he would serve her blue tea.
‘Oh, okay, do you have pink then?’ she mocked.
‘No, but I have red.’
‘Red would be perfect, thanks, Derek.’
And with that, Derek washed up the red mug and made the coffee, before nestling into the sofa next to her.
Derek’s flat was not modern, by any stretch of the imagination. The sofas were old, worn and stained. The walls were patterned in a similar style to an old people’s home and the carpet held the dust of a thousand skins, but despite this, it still oozed Derek. It smelt worn and lived in. And the library books on the table, a complete collection of Poirot videos and the plutherer of pictures mounted on the seventies edition grey stone fireplace, made it feel like home. In the photos there were three faces. The first was Derek stood clutching his oboe proudly. Then there was him with a stunning woman that Donna could only presume was his mother. Then there was a third photograph of a woman who looked like she had been corseted for so much of her life that she had forgotten how to breathe. Her glasses sat halfway down her nose as if she was examining someone and her facial expressions were stern and stand offish.
‘Who’s that?’ Donna asked.
‘My grandmother,’ Derek answered matter of factly.
‘Is she still alive?’ Donna continued.
‘Yes,’ he said, swallowing down the bitter taste of rejection.
It was tempting to tell Donna that she didn’t want anything to do with him, but the thought of having to unravel the whole past to her was just too depressing.
‘And that one,’ she said, pointing to a photo of a beautiful lady with piercing green eyes and long dark flowing hair, ‘is that your mum?’
‘Yes,’ Derek said smiling. ‘She’s a real looker, isn’t she?’
‘God, yeah, I’d go for her myself! Is she single?’ Donna joked.
‘No, she’s dead,’ Derek answered, as Donna felt her joke backfiring.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, embarrassed. ‘You look a bit like her, you know.’
‘Me? No!’ Derek replied amazed.
‘You do, I think it’s the eyes.’
As she said this, she caught his gaze and a magnetically charged force shot between them, until Derek began to get squirmy and jumped to his feet.
She was beautiful, her skin glowed and three ridiculously cute freckles sparkled on her cheek. Her lips were small but perfectly ripe, and her breasts were like two islands full of sirens. He would have loved nothing more than to kiss her at that very moment, but something was telling him not to. So he jittered over to the kitchen and began randomly opening doors and drawers in an effort to look like he had a reason to get up.
Donna sat pondering why she repelled him so much. When she had looked into his eyes, she was sure that he had felt the same way, but every time they got anywhere near connecting he ran away or vomited. Thankfully this was not one of those vomiting times. Doing her utmost not to think romantic thoughts, she reverted instead to the horrific events of the evening.
‘What a night! I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t even know if I’ve got the number for any glass people. You don’t think someone will break in through the board, do you? There’s no money in there, but they won’t know that. You don’t think they will, do you? I couldn’t handle anything else. They won’t, will they? I’m just being silly, aren’t I? I’m just being silly.’
As Donna rattled on in her strong, resonant estuary accent, Derek paid no attention. He was plotting whether or not to make a move. He had wanted her so badly for so long. Granted, she probably wasn’t interested anymore. Admittedly, she was far too good for him and yes, he was a shriveled up cherry left hanging on the tree because nobody wanted him. But he wanted her. He wanted her so badly that it felt as though his little soldier would burst before he even got into the battle.
‘I suppose I’m gonna have to shut the shop until we get things sorted. What a fucking mission! Poor Wesley, he seemed so shaken up. He’ll be needing the time off as well I suppose.’
‘Yes, I think he would appreciate a little time to recover,’ Derek agreed, with no intention of telling her just how distraught Wesley had really been.
‘He’s a nice boy really, looks like such a rotter, but he’s a good boy. Not like those little shits! They’d better catch them, Derek. They can’t just go around ruining people’s livelihood, chucking bricks through peoples windows and brandishing knifes, they can’t do that.’
Donna looked at Derek desperately. For once he took the hint and came and parked himself down beside her.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything stronger have you?’ she asked looking at the coffee.
‘Oh, is it not strong enough?’ Derek responded, looking disheartened. ‘I could make you a stronger one. Do you like those espresso ones then?’
‘I meant booze, Derek. Do you have any booze?’
‘Oh gosh, sorry, Donna. I can be so stupid. I think I’d lose my own body if it wasn’t screwed on,’ Derek joked, feeling very thick.
Then he just sat.
‘So do you have any?’ Donna repeated, needing a drink herself and conscious of loosening Derek up somewhat.
‘Uh, no. No I don’t… but I can go to the shop.’
‘No, no it’s fine. I should be heading soon anyway.’
‘No, don’t go,’ Derek pleaded quickly. ‘I will go and get us a bottle of something, the shop will still be open, I’m sure. I’m almost certain it’s open until two on the weekend.’
‘Great, shall I come?’
‘It’s okay, you wait here. I won’t be long. I could pop the telly on for you, if you like.’
Donna knew full well that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the TV. What she really wanted was a bath. She hadn’t yet washed today and just in case anything were to finally happen with Derek she didn’t want her lady flaps to smell like the shops off cut bin.
‘Oh, yes,’ Derek answered, unable to refrain from visualizing her soaking in a hot tub of steamy bubbles, her bosoms floating on the surface and her long hair dripping wet. ‘Let me run you one.’
‘Thanks, Derek, it’s really kind of you. I just don’t think I could be alone tonight. I hope I’m not intruding. I’m not intruding am I?’
‘You can stay as long as you like,’ Derek answered honestly. ‘Now, I think I’ve got some bubbles somewhere from last year’s secret Santa at the office. Not a bubble man myself. They make me itch. Where did I put them?’ he mumbled, bustling his way into the bedroom.
Donna let out a deep sigh. It had been an awful day, in fact, it had been an awful month, but sat on Derek’s antique of a sofa she was finally able to relax. Her attention was drawn again to the photographs. Derek had been a gorgeous little boy. His hair was neatly cut with a bowl, but long enough to still hang down into his eyes. His eyes sparkled with all the enthusiasm and vigor of youth and he stood proudly posing for the camera. He didn’t look shy at all. As for his mother, Donna just prayed to God that Derek wasn’t after a woman of the same caliber as her. She didn’t look foreign but she definitely didn’t look like she came from Crackerley.
Little did Donna know that somewhere high up in the sky, further than any plane, rocket or birthday balloon could fly, Derek’s mum was looking down on her too.
‘Please, please, please, please, please ravish my son. He wants you. He does. Just sleep with him. Pop his mouldy little cherry and shag him like he’s never dreamt of.’
Donna was a lovely lady, she was a bit older than him and she didn’t ooze feminine charm. But she was lovely, honest and lovely. And up there in the clouds, Rebecca had all her limbs crossed in the hope that Donna would be the one. As agonizing as it was for Rebecca to have had to leave Derek so young, what hurt the most was that he had stopped living. He was a bright, intelligent and outgoing young boy but after she had died he had just stopped. He had lost contact with all of his childhood friends, his grandmother had seen to that, and now he was left with nothing but a big heart. She wanted so much more for him. He deserved so much more.
‘Bath’s run,’ Derek announced, pleased with his efforts. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have a spare clean towel, but you can use mine. It’s kind of fresh. Here, I’ll show you the bathroom.’
As he guided her through to the bathroom, he began to realize just how tight the corridor was. Brushing passed Donna to open the door, he lingered a little bit longer.
‘Have you got everything you need?’ he whispered softly, adjusting his voice to the space.
‘It’s perfect, thanks, Derek,’ she said leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek.
As she drew back, their faces hovered expectantly and finally Derek planted a perfect kiss on her lips, squeezing every last drop out of the sensuous peck. Drawing back, he became anxious, but as soon as he saw the smile on Donna’s face and the sparkle in her eyes he felt incredible.
‘I won’t be long,’ he gushed, prancing happily out of the door.
Getting wrinkles can be a horrifying experience for anyone but when it comes from having soaked too long in the bath it can be the most satisfying feeling in the world. Donna’s fingers and toes were now shriveled up like party sausages. Derek had been gone for half an hour. He had bounded to the shop, full of sperm, only to remember that he hadn’t asked Donna whether she wanted red or white wine. So he had opted for both, just in case.
Then there was the very tricky matter of condoms. Derek knew that he was being more than optimistic in buying them, but he had to dream. Besides, surely he would need them at some point in his life. Surely someone was crazy enough to sleep with him eventually.
Derek was not entirely new to the art of condom buying. Once, about five years ago, he had been pursued by a grossly overweight woman. She was a good few years older than him and she could have started a dairy with the amount of cheese that grew between her flab. Derek had bought some dick duffels just in case, but as soon as she had pushed him into the bedroom, he had chickened out. He knew that his standards had to be low, but he just couldn’t push himself to stoop to that level. It was not an inviting offer and Derek had felt concerned for the amount of rabbits that would be stewed in the process. That was the only opportunity that had ever arisen for him but, unfortunately, Derek couldn’t quite force himself to arise for her. So those condoms had been left to get old in a drawer, until Derek had discarded them angrily in his annual clean.
Now though, Derek had a new need for them. He knew that if Donna gave him the opportunity to make love to her, that he would do it in a flash. Feeling adventurous, he opted for the flavored ones. He may have chosen differently, however, once he realized that the flavored variety pack came in a medley of colours, none of which looked good on anyone. The pineapple flavor made truncheons look like they had jaundice, the blueberry ones made them look like they had been left out in the cold in Canada, and the red, well, the red was a side of Father Christmas that no one wants to see. Nevertheless he bought them.
Condoms and wine successfully purchased, he made his way up the street, desperate to see Donna again but beginning to feel a pang of nerves. What if something did happen? He would be awful, wouldn’t he? He knew what to do. He had seen it plenty of times before. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?
He ran up the stairs two at a time, desperate to catch a glimpse of her naked in the bath. Had he not pondered for too long with the contraceptives, then this would have been the case but unfortunately he had missed his opportunity and instead walked in to the flat to find Donna neatly wrapped up in his towel, curled up on the sofa.
Donna had wondered whether or not to get dressed again but due to the fact that securing Derek would be a monstrous task anyway, she thought that she would give herself a bit of a head start. She had been less than prepared when the phone call had come that evening and was sporting a rather fetching pair of pink and white striped granny pants and an over the shoulder bazooka holder, designed to flatten but with very little effect. So the underwear had been neatly tucked away in her black bobbled handbag and her clothes, including a pajama top, had been screwed up on top.
‘Hi stranger,’ Donna seduced, as Derek bounced through the door.
‘Oh,’ Derek said, disappointed not to catch her in a natural state. ‘Did you have a nice bath?’
‘It was lovely, thanks, Derek.’
‘I didn’t know what you would usually drink so I got both. Red and white.’
‘Let’s crack off with white, shall we?’
‘Super,’ Derek responded before setting about finding a cork screw and some glasses.
He had been right, Donna looked like a mermaid stolen from the sea, with the tips of her hair damp and wavy and her shoulders glowing like a freshly polished statue. Wine needed to be drunk and fast, so that he could pluck up the confidence to kiss her again. Luckily for Derek, Donna was feeling exactly the same way and no sooner had she been handed a glass, she was necking it. Catching sight of Derek staring at her, she swallowed it quickly down.
‘It’s been a tough day,’ she justified embarrassed.
‘I know, I think you need it, don’t you?’ Derek smiled, looking into her eyes longingly.
He hadn’t expected his gaze to be met but, when it was, he quickly looked away, only for Donna to reach out and guide his face back around towards her.
‘I do, Derek. I do. You are a very special man, do you know that?’ she told him seductively.
‘No I’m not. You…you’re…you’re wonderful,’ he romanced timidly.
As he did, the corners of Donna’s mouth began to rise and she leant in for a kiss. To say that there were fireworks would be an overstatement, as unless one is snogging on New Year’s Eve the chances of fireworks going off would be highly melodramatic. But it was soft, soul consuming and perfect. The tension in Derek’s lips made for a strong, succulent kissing method a
nd the delight of Donna’s tongue motioning gently forwards and back inspired Derek to feel her close, his hands beginning to wander gently over her stretched neck.
Were either of them to open their eyes, the passion between them would have shocked even Shakespeare. A million tensions were being released, as the sensuous kiss began progressing to a lust lavished lock. Derek was conscious of Donna’s nakedness and was keen not to overstep any mark, but as he subtly moved his hand down the top of her chest, he soon began to realize that Donna was more than happy to be abused.
For a woman of her age, Donna’s skin was incredible. If she were to be placed in a touch and feel test, she would undoubtedly have been mistaken for a baby’s arse. Easing her head down the sofa, she brought Derek with her, whilst he attempted to kiss her with a twisted neck and her knee up his bottom. This soon became an issue, so he jumped slightly and found himself scissored between Donna’s sturdy thighs. This in itself would have wound Derek Junior up no end, but the short glimpse up Donna’s towel caused such a vigorous movement in Derek’s new soft cotton boxer shorts that he was entirely unable to disguise it. He had the grey ones on that day and at that moment, he felt mightily pleased that he had taken the plunge and bought them. Although, Donna clearly hadn’t felt the need to wear anything.
Donna felt the mass of Derek on top of her, but her thighs felt another kind of weight thrusting at them like a spear ready for battle. The kissing was getting more erratic now whilst the pair desperately began exploring and tasting unchartered territories. On an average day Donna would have been ashamed of her over flubbed body and sturdy strength but, here and now with Derek, she felt more beautiful and sexy than she had in years. Desperate to feel his youthful physique brushing up against her, she began lifting up his striped fake wool jumper. She managed to guide his arms easily out but releasing his head was rather more tricky. She began giggling as she was confronted by a masked Derek, like a giraffe with a bag on his head. It was made all the more funny by the fact that he started looking around in an attempt to be freed. In the end, Derek stopped and waited to be helped on his bid for freedom. At last, his head popped out from under it, messing his hair up in the process.
The Coming of Derek (a quirky comedy) Page 9
