An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy)

by David Jester

  Tiffany was the one to finally restore her own dignity by pulling her knickers up, although a dozen onlookers had seen their fair share by then.

  Groggy, confused and irritated, she had awoken to softly spoken reassurance and a question: ‘Did he hit you?’

  ‘No. Not intentionally, I don’t think.’ Tiffany had replied.

  I tried to explain myself at that point, but I talked myself into circles under the watchful eyes of many, and was saved by the sound of two paramedics barging into the club.

  They took Tiffany away for precautionary tests. Under the guidance of the paramedics she walked out of the club and into the ambulance herself, with her protector hot on her heels.

  She shot me one last ambivalent glance before she left. I didn’t know what she thought of me, but it was a fair assumption that we would never get to finish what we had started.

  When Matthew finally stopped laughing we moved on to another club, but the night had already died for me. The alcohol had worn off in the fear and excitement and I had no desire to speak to another woman, let alone try to pick one up. I called it a night and called a taxi, freeing Matthew from the restraints of responsibility and unleashing him on the women of the city. He picked someone up before I had even arrived home.

  ‘Keep your dick in your pants until you get her home this time. That’s a beast; we can’t afford to unleash it early.’ It was Saturday night and Matthew was back on the clock. ‘No toilet sex. No hospitals. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  Despite my protests we went back to the same pub as the previous night. I wasn’t looking forward to being seen and taunted by legions of witnesses who had already turned the bathroom incident into a folk tale, but I needn’t have worried; no one seemed to notice me, even the bar staff saw too many different faces to distinguish one stranger from another, and most of the punters hadn’t been there the previous evening.

  Number two was there though. The athletic redhead (heads on Matthew’s coin) came in just as we were about to head out. Her hair was pinned back this time, caught in a tight ponytail, pulling her soft skin back across her fierce bone structure.

  She still wore the same look of masculine arrogance, and her dress -- sequinned, black, long, figure-hugging -- wasn’t as seductive or showy, but I was more attracted to her tonight. I craved the dominance I saw in her, after the previous night I just wanted to lie back and let the woman do the work, that way I couldn’t mess it up.

  Matthew wormed his way over to her and got her talking. I saw her looking my way a few times and smiled, she smiled back.

  ‘She wasn’t here last night,’ Matthew said when he came back. ‘During the incident.’ He couldn’t say or think of the incident -- spoken with inverted-finger-commas -- without smiling. ‘So that’s a start. Her name is Katie, she’s an athlete, on some sort of break, an excuse to get wasted I guess. I told her you were shy, took a shot she would like the shy and retiring type, turns out she does. That or she’s desperate, either way, she’s coming over soon.’

  Katie was just as instantly affectionate as Tiffany had been, but far more forceful. Within five minutes of meeting her she stuck her tongue down my throat; I was so surprised I almost choked. Five more minutes passed before she jammed her hand down the front of my trousers.

  Matthew didn’t have to lie for me; there was no need to create the image of a successful businessman or a driven entrepreneur. Katie was prepared to go home with the first man who chatted her up, and tonight that was me.

  Matthew disappeared when Katie tried unbuttoning my trousers, signalling for me to phone him later to let him know how things went. I wanted to follow him out of the pub, but I stayed in Katie’s strong grip, deciding to follow Matthew’s advice: “if she’s kinky and dominating, just go with it, because she’ll crush your balls if you say no.”

  ‘Listen, maybe we should go somewhere,’ I said breathlessly, pulling away from her tight embrace and quickly buttoning my trousers. One stranger had already seen my erection this weekend; I didn’t want to extend that to an entire room full of people.

  ‘My place?’ Katie volunteered without hesitation.

  ‘Sure.’

  She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the pub.

  I tried to make small talk with her as we scurried along the busy streets -- ducking through an alleyway, weaving through a back-garden, seemingly taking a path that Katie had dragged many men down before -- but she was in a hurry. Her replies were brusque, one or two words usually sufficing.

  Katie finally spoke to me after we arrived at her flat.

  ‘I bet you’re a dirty boy aren’t you?’ she said, slamming the door behind her and leaving me in the darkness of her hallway. I could hear her heavy breathing quicken.

  I was so desperate for a conversation that extended beyond a grunted reply, I found myself answering just to please her, in the hope that she wouldn’t fall silent again, ‘Sure, I love all that... stuff. I could show you a few things; take you places you’ve never been before.’

  I was smiling in the darkness, content that I had played the role well. The smile faded when Katie snapped on the light and exposed her living room.

  The walls were covered with paintings of naked men and women. The women were strapped onto racks, some gagged; some blindfolded; some with probes and industrial looking gadgets inserted into orifices. Men were oiled, whipped, and leather glad, with complex and painful clamps fixed onto their scrotums or nipples.

  Everything was graphic and forceful, and although the images had been sculpted by an artist, the realism of the pencil-strokes and the sheer quantity of pictures made me feel uneasy.

  I thought about what I had just told Katie and gulped. I wasn’t sure a place existed where she hadn’t been before.

  ‘You like?’ Katie asked, her eyes turning from me to the walls. ‘I did them all myself, it’s a little hobby of mine.’

  ‘They’re good.’ I said genuinely. The paintings were good; it was the content that freaked me out. ‘You’re very talented.’

  ‘So, bad boy,’ Katie stepped in front of me and roughly shoved me backwards. I was ashamed to hear a soft yelp escape my lips as I tumbled onto a leather sofa, but Katie didn’t seem to hear it. ‘Why don’t you show me a few things?’

  ‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom first?’ I said, clambering back to my feet and stepping away from her in case she tried to shove me again.

  She shrugged her shoulders and pointed to a door at the back of the room. ‘Through there. Don’t keep me waiting,’ she warned. ‘I hate to be kept waiting. You better come back here with something good, teach me something special.’

  I hastily ducked out of her sight and stumbled to the bathroom, out of breath and wondering if I should make for the nearest window and jump.

  I found myself in a clean, newly fitted bathroom. The top half of the walls were fitted with sleek black tiles which reflected florescence from the light above, the bottom half gleamed with fresh white paint.

  The furnishings shone with the same radiant gleam that glittered from the tiles and the immaculately clean walls. The bath almost sparkled in its bleached perfection.

  Shower gels, shampoos and soaps had been arranged with the finesse of an anal retentive and stacked neatly, side by side, by an obsessive compulsive mind.

  There were no brightly coloured loafers, sponges or scrubs. Nothing was out of place; nothing was excessive; everything was clean, clinical.

  Leaning against the door I waited for an idea to enter my head as I surveyed the surroundings. I had already checked the window, it was too small to climb through and it opened to a sheer drop.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I quickly dug it out, happy for the distraction, partially hoping from a message from God telling me there was a wormhole in the sink.

  It was a text message from Matthew: How’s it goin?

  I decided he would have the answer, he would know what to do. I replied to Matthew's message with a phone
-call, he answered immediately.

  ‘Not too well I take it,’ he said, disappointed. ‘You home already?’

  ‘I’m in the bathroom,’ I whispered back.

  ‘As long as she’s not with you.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ I said, ignoring his comment. ‘I need your help.’

  ‘Lift the seat, aim, try not to make a--’

  ‘Cut the shit,’ I spat. ‘This is serious. She’s kinky, really kinky.’

  ‘Nice one.’

  ‘But I’m not.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll teach you.’

  ‘But I made her think I was kinky, I started talking, I got carried away. Now she says she wants to experiment with me, try something new. I don’t know anything new. I’m a missionary man. Doggy style is exotic for me.’

  Matthew laughed. ‘Okay.’ He cleared his throat and paused to think for a moment, I could hear the kinky images running through his mind followed by mental hysterics as he pictured me performing them. ‘Okay,’ he repeated, ‘so, if you want to impress her and follow through with this, you need to suggest something a little out-there, but not too out-there, you don’t want her thinking you’re a perv, just in case she’s more normal than you think. You have to find her level first.’

  ‘Right,’ I agreed.

  ‘What about A.T.M?’

  ‘I don’t have my card.’

  Matthew laughed so hard I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

  ‘No, no,’ he said, the remnants of amusement still in his breath. ‘It means Arse to Mouth.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘People do that?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s different; it’s unusual, it’s not normal.’

  ‘It’s not normal for a reason. No, I can’t do that, it’s disgusting.’

  ‘You could try pegging,’ Matthew continued. ‘I’m sure she’ll be game for that, if she’s kinky she’ll probably have the equipment as well.’

  ‘Equipment?’

  ‘A strap-on.’

  ‘Like a dildo? Okay, I can do that, that’s clean enough. How does that work? Won’t my dick get in the way? Do I wear it over my clothes?’

  ‘You don’t wear it, she does,’ Matthew said.

  ‘I’m going to hang up on you now.’

  ‘You said you wanted something kinky!’

  ‘Maybe I should just leave,’ I said, liking the idea as soon as I voiced it.

  ‘It’s up to you; you could be missing a big chance here. Is she hot?’

  I pictured Katie in my head. Her flowing red hair, her delicate features, her inviting lips, her radiant green eyes; her athletic body, toned and tight, fine-tuned through years of exercise.

  ‘She’s very sexy,’ I said unsurely. The images of her innocent beauty changed, the angry, arrogant personality traits took over. I imagined her snarling face above mine, growling at me as she raped me with a strap-on and demanded I call her daddy. ‘I can’t do it’ I said, ‘I need to get out of here. I’ll phone you later.’ I ended the call.

  Tentatively pushing the handle, trying not to make a sound, I opened the door and peeked through.

  I could see the hallway through the gap. The door opposite leading to a bedroom was closed; the door further down the hallway which led into the living room was still wide open, the light striking through and bathing the laminated hallway floor.

  I stuck an ear to the gap and listened. I could hear the muffled noises of fabric against fabric, either Katie was getting undressed or she was polishing her whip.

  There was no back door to the property and no chance I could get to the front door with Katie in the way.

  Peeling the door away from the jamb I made for the bedroom, praying it held a window large enough to aid my escape.

  The bedroom was as clean and inviting as the bathroom, but the walls were decorated in just as many drawings as the living room. I saw the window on the other side of the room. It was big enough for me to get through.

  A picture above the bed caught my eye and I stopped. It was bigger than the others and I had initially assumed it to be another drawing, but this wasn’t from Katie’s hand, this was Katie herself.

  She was naked and snarling at the camera. She lay on her front, her silky body lying flat over a white table op. Her breasts pressed tight against her ribcage, her buttocks lifted slightly into the air as she sensually caressed the table top with the tip of a thin strip of pubic hair.

  I was impressed. I knew she would be hiding a great body, and even the best body in the world wouldn’t have forced me to stay, but I was mesmerised. The photo was professional, sensual. She looked stunning.

  I thought about turning back, going into the living room and putting up with whatever Katie had to throw at me, but the thought was fleeting.

  I moved over to the window, sidestepping around the bed. My hands were on the frame when Katie walked into the room.

  I turned at the sound of creaking floorboards to see her standing in the doorway. She was naked, her form silhouetted by the halo-glow from the hallway light behind her. I was spellbound by the silken curves of her body: her long, toned legs; her flat stomach, defined by gentle curves of muscle; her pert but ample breasts.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she didn’t sound mad, but there was a touch of malevolence in her voice.

  ‘I--i--’ I tried to work out an excuse but it didn’t come and the longer I waited the more stupid I looked. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said simply. I didn’t want to turn my back on her, fearful she would pounce, but I knew if I stared any longer I would change my mind.

  I turned around, gripped the window and pulled, it didn’t budge. The wood creaked in response but the pane didn’t move. I tried again, harder, but it still refused to move.

  ‘That window doesn’t open,’ Katie said plainly behind me, she still hadn’t moved from the doorway.

  ‘You’re shitting me,’ I mumbled, my face flushing red, partly from exhaustion, mostly through embarrassment.

  I turned to face her but couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘I need to leave,’ I said staring at the floor, ‘you mind if I use your door?’

  Katie replied by stepping aside, leaving the beckoning light from the hallway to blare through unobscured.

  I trudged forward. My heart picked up its pace when I passed her. I half expected her to jump me, but she didn’t move. She allowed me to drift into the hallway.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, ducking my head back in the bedroom, allowing myself one last glance at her naked form. Now that I knew she wasn’t setting herself up to jump on me and murder me, I felt bad for her and felt a need to reassure her, or at least clean the air. ‘Maybe we can do this again sometime?’ I said with a broad smile.

  She glared at me ferociously, the anger now evident in her eyes.

  ‘Okay,’ I ducked back out of the bedroom, worried I had kick-started her rage. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you.’

  13

  The Quick and the Dead

  ‘Speed Dating!’

  It had been three weeks since my night with Katie, the flame-haired athlete-come-dominatrix. It had been three days since Matthew was able to make it an hour without bringing up the night in question and laughing hysterically.

  ‘Speed Dating?’

  He was onto step two of his master-plan to get me laid by as many women as possible, and as usual, I had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘Speed Dating!’ Matthew repeated, his eyes ablaze with euphoria.

  ‘What is that?’ I asked.

  ‘It's exactly what it sounds like,’ Matthew exclaimed.

  ‘It sounds like your dream come true.’

  Matthew beamed, fluttering a number of leaflets he held under his chin, as if to cool his excitement in case he swooned. ‘Exactly,’ he said, thrusting one of the leaflets at me.

  ‘“A room full of single women, thirty minutes to see them all,�
��” I said, reading a random passage from the brightly coloured leaflet. ‘Is this like an orgy?’

  ‘I wish,’ Matthew said, his eyes drifting upwards for a moment as his mind conjured and then stored that wish for later. ‘It’s this new American thing; you rush through a couple dozen dates in an hour or so. It’s like the ultimate blind date, coz if you don’t like ‘em, it doesn’t matter; you only have to put up with ‘em for five minutes.’

  ‘Five minutes?’ I said, already feeling anxious. Most of the time it took me more than five minutes to tell a girl my name. ‘That doesn’t seem like enough time at all.’

  Matthew shrugged this off. ‘If you like them you can swap numbers at the end, if you don’t, meh,’ he shrugged again. ‘What’s five minutes of your life?’

  ‘It sounds demeaning.’

  ‘I don’t--’

  ‘For them,’ I quickly added.

  ‘They’ll love it I’m sure, if not, then why would they show up?’

  ‘Maybe they’re desperate?’

  I saw the glint appear in Matthew’s eye and couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘I’ll give it a shot.’

  I was nervous about meeting a succession of women in such a short time, so I knocked back a few bottles of beer before the event, but the alcohol did little to ease those nerves.

  ‘You’re not going to chicken out on me are you?’ Matthew warned with a quizzical raise of his right eyebrow.

  ‘No, I’ll go,’ I said truthfully. ‘I just don’t feel comfortable with it.’

  Matthew took something out of his pocket. ‘I had a feeling you’d be like this,’ he told me. ‘So I brought these, just in case,’ he hovered his hand above mine, I opened my palm and he dropped two small blue tablets onto my sweaty flesh.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Valium. Sedatives. They’ll calm you down, be right as rain.’

  I looked at him suspiciously, he grinned back.

  ‘What you doing with sedatives?’

  He shrugged impassively. ‘You remember that dancer girl I was with?’