An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy)

by David Jester

  I was not surprised to hear that Matthew had had sex with her as well. Apparently on the assumption that she was the senior manager, but also because she was available and he was horny.

  If anyone else had professed such sexual conquests I would have doubted them, but Matthew was charming and he wasn’t choosy.

  After an hour of loitering and avoiding work I began to earn my pay. Matthew showed me into a large storeroom which housed all the stock for the supermarket. He told me to stack DVDs, Games and CDs whilst he headed back into the store to clear up outdated perishables.

  The storeroom was dark and resembled a bleak warehouse. Everything the supermarket stocked was in there in its packaged form, stacked on massive shelving units which stretched to twice my height and ran in intersecting lines over the black linoleum floor. Florescent lights had been fitted in the ceiling above the shelves, lighting the stock but providing a dim gloom for the alleyways in between.

  It was dark and musty. The only sounds were the intermittent creaking of plastic and cardboard as the products shivered in the darkness.

  I found the multimedia section after a few minutes and set to work pulling games from a bottom shelf and checking them against a list Matthew had given me. A sound from over my crouched shoulder interrupted me and nearly gave me a heart attack.

  I turned to see a petite blonde standing over me, her hands clasped together behind her back. She peered down at me with amusement in her eyes.

  ‘You scared me half to death,’ I said, holding my chest as I clambered warily to my feet.

  The smile remained on her face, she didn’t say anything.

  I held out my hand. ‘Kieran McCall,’ I said proudly.

  She looked at the extended appendage but didn’t grasp it.

  ‘And you are?’ I wondered. She hadn’t been in the store when Matthew had been running through his little black book.

  She lifted her eyes to mine again. My hand was still outstretched.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked in lieu of anything else.

  She pulled a right hand from behind her back, but instead of shaking my hand, she grasped my wrist and tugged it to her chest. Then she thrust my hand onto her breast.

  She lowered her hand. I kept mine where it was, it felt right.

  The smile was still wide on her face.

  ‘Very nice,’ I said, nodding. ‘Do you have a name at all? I mean this feels a little we--’

  She dived forward and clasped her lips onto mine. As her tongue worked its way over my teeth she thrust her pelvis forward, connecting with my groin. Then she took my hand again and moved it around her back, allowing me to grip her backside, firm and teasing underneath her trousers.

  At that point I was still a virgin. If she had thrust any closer or for any longer then I would have had to read up on the technicalities of my virginity whilst I walked ashamedly away and tried to never look her, whoever she was, in the eye again.

  I had prepared myself mentally for the first moment I had sex. I reasoned that I would be anxious and scared, but knew I would have to take control, to act like a man who knew what he was doing and to not make an idiot of myself. It never occurred to me that my first encounter would be with someone who guided me every step of the way.

  She took control of everything and used me like an anatomically correct puppet with lock-in appendages. She stripped me naked and then took her own clothes off. I forced myself to think about something unsexy whilst I watched her tease her way out of her uniform and expose her tanned flesh inch by inch.

  I waited for her and she guided me to the floor. The linoleum was cold against my bare buttocks, the bottom of my spine clicked and cracked on first compression against the solid floor. I ignored the discomfort and concentrated on her, on us.

  She stayed on top. She didn’t look at me much during, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Not because of her evident beauty, but because I wanted to make sure she was enjoying herself. She seemed to be.

  She seemed to be lost in her own euphoric world. She grabbed her own hair, closed her eyes and rocked her head back and forth, using my body like a fairground ride.

  I finished almost as soon as we started. I gritted my teeth and tried to think sexy thoughts -- the thought never occurred to me to look at the naked body writhing on top of me -- until she finished. She did so with a gasp and a shudder, then she let her hair down and rolled off without looking at me.

  She dressed with me still on the floor. I waited for her to say something (“thank you” would have been nice) but she departed without a word, leaving just a smile.

  I dressed with a grin and then looked around excitedly. I thought about running into the supermarket and telling everyone that I had just had sex, but I composed myself, finished my job -- hurriedly -- and went to tell Matthew.

  ‘You must know her,’ I pleaded. ‘Blonde. Short. Tight body.’

  Matthew shook his head and looked at me as if I was mad. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

  I hadn’t received the reception I had hoped. I thought Matthew would join in with my revelry, even congratulate me, but he didn’t seem to know who I was talking about.

  ‘About 17. 18.’ I put a hand on my hip and kicked it out, ‘Walks with a little bit of a swagger, showing off her arse.’

  Matthew shook his head.

  ‘Maybe she just started. Like me.’

  ‘You’re the only starter this week mate.’

  ‘Maybe you just haven’t met her yet,’ I pushed.

  ‘I’ve met everyone,’ Matthew said confidently. ‘Shagged most of them,’ he added with a wry smile.

  ‘No one could have escaped your notice?’

  Matthew sighed, annoyed with the route of questioning. He lowered his head in thought. ‘Let me see,’ he said, a finger on his chin. ‘Nope.’

  I visibly deflated.

  ‘There was one I never shagged,’ Matthew said, brightening up.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Not sure what her name was, cute though. Little minx as well,’ Matthew looked into the middle distance, reflectively.

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Little sexy blonde thing she was. Very nice body. Tanned. Bit on the short side.’

  ‘That sounds like her.’

  He looked shocked. ‘Can’t be mate. She topped herself.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s why I never got a shot at her. She had issues, she was shagging the manager and he finished with her. They reckoned it was enough to send her over the edge. She killed herself in the storeroom.’

  His words sunk in and I felt the life drain out of me. It all made sense.

  ‘She didn’t speak,’ I said distantly. ‘I thought she was shy, but I mean, well, I--’ I paused to look at Matthew, he seemed to be having trouble expressing something. ‘How did she do it?’

  ‘OD’d on Rampant Rabbits.’

  ‘Is that like a rave drug?’ I wondered earnestly.

  ‘Dildos mate. They found her naked on the floor, every orifice plugged. They vibrated the fucking life outta her.’

  ‘Really?’

  Matthew burst out laughing and shoved me lightly on the shoulder. ‘You’re fucking gullible mate,’ he said merrily.

  I felt my face redden with embarrassment, although a big part of me was delighted that I hadn’t lost my virginity to a horny ghost.

  ‘I’m gonna have so much fun with you,’ he said after a while, sucking in deep mouthfuls of air to catch his breath, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘Fucking classic mate, love it.’

  ‘Hilarious,’ I said, feeling a reluctant smile creep onto my face.

  ‘Nah, that’s Louisa,’ he said eventually. ‘She’s been here a few weeks. Strange girl, nice body though.’

  ‘Have you and her…’

  ‘Nope. I tried, but well,’ he shook his head regrettably. ‘She wasn’t having any of it.’

  I was pleased Matthew hadn’t been with her and I felt honoured that she had chosen me, even if she had don
e so without giving herself much time to think about it.

  ‘Good for you mate,’ Matthew said, tapping my shoulder and bringing a proud smile to my face.

  ‘Thanks. She didn’t speak to me though.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘No, I mean, at all. Not before, not after. I’m not even sure she looked at me afterwards,’ I lied. I was sure, she hadn’t looked at me. There had been a smile on her face but it wasn’t directed at anyone.

  Matthew shrugged placidly. ‘She never talks, but who cares. You got yours. Consider it a plus.’

  I took Matthew’s advice and thought of it as just that. Over the next couple of days I thought of little else but Louisa and the episode in the storeroom. I created a whole world of scenarios for her and her reluctance to talk, in my favourite one she had been struck down by nerves after falling head over heels in love with me. It didn’t explain why she didn’t talk to others, but I didn’t let that bother me.

  I looked for Louisa during the rest of the shift, and on the following day. I couldn’t find her. I began to wonder if I would ever see her again, let alone get the chance to repeat the sexual encounter. Then she pounced on me again in the storeroom.

  This time we had sex in front of the vegetables. I had the smell of earth and pesticide in my nostrils as I gave her the best three minutes and twenty-two seconds of her life. I know that because I counted. She hadn’t been looking at me again so I checked my progress on a large wall-clock over her shoulder.

  She finished without looking at me and dressed quickly.

  Lying naked, cold and smiling on the floor, I watched her leave without saying a word.

  We repeated the rendezvous three hours later when I went into the storeroom to pick up some boxes of cereal, and then twice the following day. I began to get horny just walking into the storeroom, and even the sight of stock turned me on.

  The storeroom became my second home. Fellow employees knew that if they couldn’t find me I would be stalking those darkened corridors with a sinister lust in my eyes. They thought I was weird. Matthew thought I was a God. Louisa didn’t seem to think anything of me.

  I decided that I needed to speak to her. I wanted to have a relationship with her that didn’t revolve around sordid -- and enjoyable -- meetings in darkened rooms. I also reasoned that she didn’t know my name, and if it hadn’t been for a proxy, I wouldn’t know hers.

  I took my opportunity during our thirteenth session -- not only had I been counting but I had kept a timesheet of each, the longest we had managed was four minutes five-seconds, the longest I personally had managed was 8 thrusts; it just wasn’t worth timing -- when I rolled her over and clambered on top for the first time. She resisted, and in doing so she made eye contact with me for the first time during intercourse.

  On top of her I stared down into her eyes, thrusting gently to keep her entertained -- complimentary if anything, I had finished during the struggle -- she turned away, her cheek on the cold floor, her eyes staring into a bottle of Fairy Liquid.

  ‘I need to speak to you,’ I said, realising it wasn’t the best opening line for the situation, but struck dumb in the moment.

  I heard a soft moan escape her lips and her head scraped up and down on the floor, but she didn’t reply, she didn’t even look at me.

  ‘Please,’ I begged, realising that this was exactly how I thought I’d manage to lose my virginity: naked and pleading.

  She groaned again in reply, a little quicker this time. I felt some resistance as she thrust her pelvis upwards, lifting me an inch off the floor, forcing me deeper. She was in a hurry to finish.

  I stopped moving. I remained still.

  She began to thrust against me, telling me that she didn’t need me to move.

  I pulled back, far enough to leave her thrusts fleshless.

  ‘Talk to me,’ I begged again.

  She turned her head. I smiled as I waited for her eyes to meet mine.

  I lowered myself into her in anticipation. She was going to speak. She looked over my face: my eyes, my nose, my lips.

  ‘Just hurry up and fuck me, would you?’ she snapped.

  I had expected a voice that could lull angels to sleep, what I got was the bitter tone of a psychopath.

  ‘But--’

  ‘Fuck me and then fuck off,’ she spat. ‘I don’t need this. I’ll go and find someone else. Just hurry up.’ She turned her head to the side again, her eyes back on the washing-up liquid.

  I was hurt and insulted. I felt dirty. I wanted to pull out and leave, already I could feel my erection growing flaccid in shame, but I didn’t want to incur her wrath.

  I soldiered on. Treating it like a shameful workout.

  We broke our record that afternoon. She lasted for a full ten minutes. I thought she would never finish.

  For the last time Louisa dressed without saying a word, but for the first time I was dressed before her. I tried to catch her eye as I waited for her to leave, but she never looked at me. I never saw her innocent smile or heard her venomous words ever again.

  9

  Love in the Work Place Part Two: Mr and Mrs

  At the supermarket I stacked shelves, avoided a psychopath, counted stock and took abuse from a pudgy, irritating floor manager for another two years.

  I hated every minute of it, but Matthew helped me through the tedium. He became a good friend, and the only one I saw outside of work as I lost touch my other friends.

  I didn’t have many aspirations in life, but I did want to quit my job at the supermarket for something that didn’t drain my soul. Something in an office. Somewhere I could wear a tie and sit down.

  I began to apply for half a dozen jobs a week, and eventually I landed myself a position with a company that made paper and office stationary. I was going to be stuck in a cubicle all day making and receiving telephone calls. It was nothing exciting, but it was what I wanted.

  I got my office, and more importantly, I got my tie.

  ‘It’s The Pink Panther,’ I exclaimed, proudly holding the tie up.

  ‘What the hell is The Pink Panther?’

  My mouth dropped open. The material emblazoned with the comical creation fell back to my neatly pressed blue shirt.

  It was my first day. I had started with a smile and that smile hadn’t faded when I met a manager who danced on the borderline between grumpy irritant and chronic depressive. It hadn’t faded during my first half hour which I had spent trying to sell paper to an old woman who only wanted to talk about her Grandson.

  Now, standing in front of a co-worker -- a short, slim, mild-mannered brunette with shy eyes and thin blue lips -- it dripped from my face like warm ice cream.

  ‘You don’t know what The Pink Panther is?’

  Her eyes lowered to the floor. She began to twiddle with a strand of hair which sprung from behind her ear. ‘No,’ she said faintly.

  ‘How old are you?’

  She made eye contact again. ‘Eighteen.’

  I shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘But you’re not much older,’ she noted. She had released the lock and was now tampering with the plastic casing from a readymade sandwiched.

  ‘My dad liked The Pink Panther films. I grew up on them I guess. Monty Python as well, he loved Monty Python.’

  ‘Who?’

  I raised a questionable eyebrow.

  She laughed. ‘Only joking.’

  Her name was Melissa, and I liked her. I had seen her when I first entered the building and had been shown around by the manager. He paraded around with the enthusiasm of a dying sloth, but I was heavy on his heels, eyeing up my new surroundings and my new colleagues.

  Melissa’s desk was on the other side of the room to mine. I had spied her tangled brunette mane as I talked to my first few customers. I caught up with her at dinner-time and had just finished eating my packed lunch with her.

  She was shy, but I liked that about her. There was a certain childish innocence about her that told me she would be a goo
d friend, a good partner. One who wouldn’t rape me on the storeroom floor and refuse to look into my eyes.

  ‘Well, I better get back to work,’ Melissa stood up. She wore a tartan knee length skirt over black tights; she dusted it clear of crumbs and pulled taut a crease. ‘I’ve got to make a personal call first.’

  ‘Okay’

  ‘Nice to meet you Kieran.’

  I took her extended hand. She had warm, moist hands and a delicate handshake. ‘You too.’

  She departed and left me alone in the small kitchen. In the silence I could hear the sales patter from the main room as employees forwent their breaks to increase their commission.

  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.