An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy)

by David Jester

  A couple of doors opened behind me. I dodged the emerging spectators, shifted to the top of the stairs; Melissa followed, prodding. A few more naked bodies appeared in the doorways, craning their necks to see over the initial onlookers; all were drunk or drugged, all amused.

  Melissa turned to them: ‘He used to be my boyfriend,’ she said, wickedly. ‘He came here to spy on us; he’s probably had a wank watching some of you already.’

  I shook my head and stuttered a hastily and incoherent objection.

  The faces in the doorway looked appalled; some of them were advancing towards me. I backed up to the edge of the stairs.

  Melissa stayed on me. She looked me up and down slowly. ‘You’re a disgrace,’ she muttered with a twisted face, and then she shoved me.

  I remember very little about the next few hours.

  I had glimpses of falling, tumbling, hurting. All around me I could hear calls of disgust, triumph and pleasure. I remember looking up and seeing Melissa's twisted face as she glared down at me, naked. No longer attractive, now the body of a shrunken devil, the face of an evil sociopath.

  I saw Jessie. She was fully clothed, she looked concerned. She was screaming at the others, threatening them.

  I was reluctantly bungled into the backseat of a car by two naked, sweaty men. Then a car journey, I didn’t know how long, aided all the way by Jessie’s soft worried voice.

  I woke up in a hospital bed with a very bad headache.

  Matthew was sitting by the side of the bed, reading a magazine with little interest in its content.

  ‘Where am I?’ I said. I expected a croaked voice, but it came out fine.

  Matthew looked at me and then closed the magazine and placed it down. Somewhere in the far reaches of the hospital I heard a loud clatter of dropped equipment. The sound screeched like lightning bolts in my head, I closed my eyes, scrunched my face and waited for the pain to go away.

  ‘Hospital, dipshit. Where else?’ Matthew said casually.

  ‘Where’s Jessie?’

  I opened my eyes in time to see Matthew shrug. ‘She brought you here, phoned me and then left. Told me to say she was sorry. She left her number, said to ring her.’

  I nodded.

  Matthew slowly folded his arms across his chest and glared at me. ‘So,’ he said slowly. ‘You went to an orgy and you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  He didn’t look too impressed; he sensed he had missed out.

  ‘You should have told me about them,’ I said. ‘I got knocked the fuck out because of you.’

  He held up his hands. ‘Melissa knocked--’

  ‘Your fault!’ I spat. ‘You should have told me they were like that.’

  Matthew gave in, he slumped, ‘You're right, my apologies. But I honestly didn’t know. I never listened to her, she rarely spoke and when she did we were drinking or fucking, never a good time to try to get me to listen.’

  I allowed myself to calm down. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘It’s over with now, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘No,’ he said, looking shocked. ‘They didn’t tell you, I mean, you don’t know?’ he said, worried.

  ‘What, what is it?’

  He averted his eyes, looked at the bed, and then darted them worriedly around the hospital dorm where five other patients rested. He looked anxious and that made me worry.

  ‘Is something wrong with me?’ I said. I tried to sit upright, but the movement sent stabbing pains around my skull.

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you, I mean, I don’t--’

  ‘What is it?’ I demanded.

  ‘They had to operate,’ he said simply.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They cut off your dick, said you probably wouldn’t be needing it anymore anyway,’ he said with a smirk.

  ‘You wanker!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, pulling back in case I found something to throw at him. ‘I’ve been sitting here thinking of that one for a while, fuck all else to do but watch you snore and drool.’

  I relaxed, content; my heart still racing.

  ‘So, you gonna phone her or not?’

  ‘Jessie?’

  ‘Who else?’

  I liked her and the warming images of her concerned expression were still fresh in my mind. But I didn’t like her lifestyle and I knew that for every second I was with her I would see Melissa as she pushed me down the stairs.

  ‘No,’ I said convincingly. ‘I’ve had enough of women for now.’

  12

  Orange and Red

  It took me a few months to get over Melissa and the carnage that followed our relationship. After that I was wary, but happy to return to the dating world under the tutelage of my sexually indiscriminate best friend. I wanted to date a few girls, find one I liked and cautiously step into another, hopefully better, relationship. Matthew told me I should play the field, although he didn’t say it as succinctly as that.

  ‘You need to get your end away mate,’ he told me assuredly.

  He hated Melissa. He hated my brief moments of celibacy whilst my bruised body and ego healed, now he was in his element.

  ‘Sleep around a bit, stop settling for the first lass who smiles at you. Have some fun. Do what I do.’

  ‘I’ve heard what you do,’ I told him. ‘And quite frankly most of it sickens me.’

  Matthew merely shrugged; there was a touch of pride in his eyes. ‘You don’t need to be that kinky, but you do need to fuck a few more girls, get some experience.’

  I tried not to listen to Matthew when it came to the opposite sex, but I had to acknowledge that he had a lot more experience with women than I did. He also rarely entered into relationships, never seeing any girl for more than a week or two at a time, yet he had slept with more women than I had even spoken to. I didn’t admit it to him at the time but I envied the ease with which he cruised through his sexual encounters, and I was prepared to let him teach me to become as sleazy, sex-mad and uncommitted as he was.

  I agreed to go on a pub crawl with him and he treated the following weekend like a military operation. He committed himself to forty-eight hour celibacy, insisting that all of his time and efforts were to be taken up with getting me with as many women as possible.

  We were only a few hours into the weekend when he spotted the first target. A heavily tanned, almost orange, blonde girl with a simpleton smile and a giggly nature. She had paraded her slim body past our table a few times during the last half-hour, her glittered, fluttering eyes looking down at me seductively as she did so.

  ‘She wants you, she’s an easy mark,’ Matthew said.

  ‘So what do I do?’ I wondered, deciding against questioning him on his terminology. ‘Should I buy her a drink?’

  ‘That’s a good start, but if that’s the way you’re gonna play it you might want to wait for a bit. It’s early and she’s still relatively sober, buy her a drink now and you’ll be doing it for the rest of the night. Cost you a fortune, you’d be better off with a hooker.’

  I looked at the tangoed girl; she was standing by the bar surrounded by a circle of friends. She was laughing loudly, her body dancing to the beat of hysterics, but none of her friends were joining in; a couple of them looked embarrassed, the others smiled politely and waited for her to quieten down.

  ‘She looks dumb,’ I commented.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But I don’t like them dumb.’

  ‘It’s just sex,’ Matthew argued. ‘She has a nice body, decent face. She’ll do.’

  ‘What if it becomes more than that?’

  Matthew paused in the middle of taking a long drink. He put his glass down on the table firmly and pointed a menacing finger at me. ‘You’re not starting a relationship with her. I’m warning you. We’re not here for relationships, so don’t get any ideas. If I hear you talking about relationship shit with her I’ll drag you outta here by your balls, got it?’

  ‘Fair enough.’ I took a long, submissive drink, feelin
g like a child who had just been told off. ‘So what do we do now?’ I wanted to know. ‘Do we just wait?’

  ‘Let’s scout around, see if we can find a better match, just in case the ditzy blonde turns out to be prudish.’

  Number two was an athletic redhead with a proud stance and a confident gait, she dripped with self-assurance. Her shoulder length hair shone in the flickering lights; curled locks of the radiant red hung down either side of deep brown eyes. Her angelic hair, and her soft, feminine features, were set into a scowl which had been infused with just enough masculinity and arrogance to offset her femininity and create neutrality.

  She was beautiful, but her hard body was equalled by her hard glare.

  ‘She looks too dominating. If she wanted to start a relationship I wouldn’t be able to say no. I might run away, but I would never be able to say no to her.’

  ‘That’s a good thing,’ Matthew said, leaning forward in excitement. ‘It means she’ll make you do the crazy shit I’m always telling you to do. She’ll teach you a few things, and trust me it feels good to have a commanding woman treat you like shit.’

  ‘You have issues.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Matthew replied with a smile.

  ‘What if she wants more than sex?’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘But what if she does?’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘Run, I guess.’

  ‘But she looks like she could catch me.’

  ‘We’ll deal with it when it arises; first we need to get her on the hook. Right,’ he produced a coin from his pocket, flipped it and asked: ‘heads or tails?’

  ‘Heads.’

  ‘Tails. The blonde goes first. Easy enough; she likes you, she wants you, not so sure about the redhead.’

  Under Matthew’s instruction -- get her away from her friends who are no doubt more intelligent -- I caught her eye and beckoned her over. I introduced myself and then let Matthew take over.

  Her name was Tiffany and she was a beauty therapist, a subject Matthew suddenly became an expert in. He introduced me as a modest businessman with a line in beauty products and studios, and before I knew it I had her devoted attention.

  ‘He doesn’t like to talk about it,’ Matthew said, his face a picture of hilarity as he stared over the top of Tiffany’s bare shoulder. ‘But he’s a genius, I’m sure he could teach you a thing or two about the business.’

  ‘Really?’ She said, her career prospects gleaming beyond the dollar signs in her eyes.

  I smiled and shrugged, not sure what to say.

  ‘That’s so interesting,’ she shifted over to me, her hand moving onto my thigh.

  I tried to reply, but I wasn’t sure if I spoke a word or merely mumbled an incoherent noise. I cleared my throat just in case and downed the rest of my pint, watching as a grinning Matthew made his way to the bar to order more.

  Within the hour I drank another three pints and was feeling good, the nerves were gone and I had also been in Tiffany's company long enough not to be taken-aback by her stray hands.

  In that time she hadn’t said much but she had spoken a lot. She also laughed a lot, the noise made me cringe and I had to dig my nails into the palm of my hand to stop from grimacing.

  She finished her third bottle of Alco pop and winked at me, saying: ‘I think I should go to the bathroom.’

  She had been winking and staring at me strangely for the last hour, I assumed she had a tic disorder or didn’t understand social convention.

  ‘Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe you could join me?’ she said, almost shyly.

  ‘I don’t need to go.’ I could see Matthew shaking his head as I spoke.

  ‘Maybe we can find something else to do then?’ Tiffany persisted.

  ‘In the bathroom?’

  She smiled.

  ‘I don’t think--’ I stopped, feeing a foot slam into my shin. I looked up to see Matthew looking at me with wide eyes, he was twitching his head violently, either telling me to move or having a seizure.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ I said, still a little unsure. ‘I’ll meet you in there.’

  Tiffany pulled away from the table with a grin and ambled off towards the toilets, swinging her hips with great exaggeration, knowing I’d be watching her leave.

  ‘You nearly blew it,’ Matthew said when Tiffany had drifted into the wall of noise beyond our table.

  ‘Just so I’m perfectly clear, she does want me to have sex with her in there?’ I asked.

  Matthew nodded exaggeratedly.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that, how am I supposed to know? Why do people insist on euphemisms and riddles, whose benefit are they for exactly? If she doesn’t want you to know why doesn’t she just whisper it in my ear?’ I sat back and drained the last of my pint.

  ‘Well, go on then,’ Matthew pushed.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and averted my gaze, ‘But it’s dirty in there.’

  ‘Don’t be a pussy,’ Matthew said.

  ‘I don’t have any protection on me.’

  ‘It’s a toilet. There’ll be a condom machine in there I’m sure.’

  ‘I meant like marigolds or bleach.’

  ‘Get in there and fuck her now,’ Matthew ordered, thrusting a finger in the direction of the toilet.

  ‘Fine,’ I grumbled, standing.

  I waded through the crowd and made my way to the back of the pub where a small corridor led down to a back exit which was flanked by two toilets: Gents and Ladies.

  I usually liked the quiet and the solitude of a bedroom, where, with time and comfort, I could enjoy the sex and the closeness. A quickie in the toilets had never made it into my list of fantasies and had never appealed, but Tiffany was very pretty and she had a great body.

  The door to the Gents was open and Tiffany was standing with her foot in the jamb, her neat orange body resting against a sink and beckoning me.

  I ducked inside. I half expected to see the row of urinals in use; a line of men preparing to commentate and criticise my performance, but there was no one else inside.

  Tiffany clasped my hand in hers and turned, leading me down past the urinals.

  ‘It’s quite clean in here,’ I noted happily.

  ‘What?’ she asked over her shoulder.

  ‘Nothing.’

  She led me to the far cubical and shoved me inside. She slammed the door, engaged the lock and then pounced on me, thrusting her tongue in between my lips, her hand clasped around my neck.

  I returned the kiss with my eyes on the cubicle door, fearful that it would open to expose a crowd of onlookers. I thought about pausing to check she had locked it properly, or asking her to check, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment.

  ‘I want you so badly,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Fuck me Mister McCall, fuck me.’

  I had never been called mister during sex before, but I didn’t let that worry me, I had other things to concentrate on. Like the toilet door.

  With a heavy, excited groan she turned around and pressed her buttocks up against my groin. She ground momentarily.

  ‘Fuck me Mister McCall, fuck me hard.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Fuck me good, fuck me hard.’

  I shrugged to myself, unsure how to reply a second time. I wasn’t good with dirty talk.

  Standing straight again, her back pressed against my chest, she kissed me over her shoulder whilst working her hand under her skirt, toying with the G-string. She worked the thin material free and then slid it down her legs, letting it fall to her ankles.

  Her hands then went to work on me, yanking my trousers and boxer shorts down with great ease. She stroked and caressed my erection, kissed it, and then, producing a

  condom, she popped the prophylactic in her mouth before cupping her lips over the tip of my penis and working the rubber down with her lips.

  At that moment I heard the door to the toilets creak open. I heard a man cough and whistle his way inside.

  The e
cstasy inside me was replaced by fear. I had let excitement take over and had banished the thought of someone stumbling in on us, but with the sound of that click, cough and whistle, it all came back.

  My eyes shot to the cubicle door. I could hear footsteps echoing their way across the toilet floor. I moved forward, practically diving for the lock, forgetting about the girl currently fitting me with a condom.

  Tiffany stumbled backwards under my movement. Her backside rolled over the back of her ankles and her head flew backwards. I heard the sound of surprise escape her lips, I felt the breeze of shock bounce off the rubber and tickle my thigh, and I felt her teeth graze my penis moments before the back of her head clattered against the toilet door.

  The door was locked after all, but under the impact of Tiffany’s head the lock buckled, popped. The door flew open.

  Tiffany had slipped into unconsciousness on impact, not a sound escaped her lips during the blow. She was silent and limp as she flopped towards the tiled bathroom floor.

  She was caught by an unsuspecting man whose whistling promptly stopped when a half-naked orange girl fell against his legs.

  Reaching down to stop Tiffany from rolling over or slipping past, the man looked up at me still standing in the cubicle with my pants around my ankles and a condom half-fitted onto my dying erection.

  I said the first thing that came into my head, regretting it immediately: ‘It wasn’t rape, I swear.’

  Tiffany regained consciousness a few minutes later. The sight that I had dreaded whilst trying to have sex with her greeted her when she opened her eyes: the bathroom was packed with interested observers; one of which claimed he was a doctor, but may have just fancied a feel.

  The man who had caught Tiffany became her protector. He had left me alone with her for a fleeting second when he ran into the club to ask for a doctor and an ambulance, but even then he had remained in the doorway to keep an eye on me and the injured girl. At that point I had hurriedly removed the condom and pulled my trousers up.

  I had been tempted to pull Tiffany’s knickers up as well, it didn’t seem appropriate to leave her exposed under the thin material of the short skirt, but it occurred to me that her rescuer would kill me if I went anywhere near that area.