Money For Nothing

by Dom Price

  Collecting the hand full of products from Laura, Dave took a huge deep breath and raised himself from his chair. “I’ll be back shortly” he squirmed as he waddled off to the toilets.

  The knock-on effect of the scaping was starting to frustrate Dave. Not only was it taking him longer to get around to meetings, but his lunch time shopping expedition to pick out a new outfit and super-hero outfit for the night’s events, was also looking in jeopardy. Lubed up and wincing with every move, Dave made it through gritted teeth to the shops with his scrap book of images borrowed from GQ, FHM and Men’s Health.

  “Oh, you are going for the metro-sexual look then? Very noooice” said one assistant, winking unconvincingly at Dave. Firstly, he had no idea what a metro thing was, and certainly wasn’t going to ask this particular shop assistant. With the voice of a lady, face of a man and body of a teenager, there was a lot of uncertainty, so in his head Dave labelled it ‘gender unknown.”

  “Yeah, just updating the wardrobe, you know.”

  “Yeah, I certainly do” confirmed the assistant, winking again. Dave was far from certain as to whether these winks were a good or a bad sign. Was he attracting lesbians? Was it a boy? Did this metro malarkey mean something? Dave knew of the newspaper called The Metro, but wasn’t aware of the ‘look’ of a metro. “I’ll pop these over here so you can try them on. Sizes can be tricky these days.”

  “No no...I won’t be trying anything on. People to see and all that.” Dave was normally comfortable buying sizes, but then he’d only really ever bought suits and he always bought them from the same tailor.

  Dave rebuffed the assistant’s suggestions as he knew there was no chance his body could survive the pain threshold required to disrobe, dress and redress right now.

  With an ample selection of creams, ointments and instructions from Laura, Dave packed his laptop and collected his days shopping to head home. According to his diary, he was working on some client files, but Dave knew he needed some time to mentally and physically prepare.

  Entering the lift alone, he was suddenly shocked to see Jason sprint towards the closing doors. “We still on for tonight yeah” he yelped excitedly, worryingly out of breath after a 19 yard sprint.

  “Yeah, I just have a few things to attend to.”

  “I bet you do! Now then, there are 3 rules or guidelines for tonight. Rule 1 and Rule 2 are simple. I’ll give you Rule 3 later. Rule 1; as the scouts say, ‘Always Be Prepared’. Rule 2; not one from the scouts...never leave for a night out with a loaded weapon. Ayyyeeeeeee”. The wink from Jason was sufficient to cause a light breeze in the lift and temporarily confuse Dave.

  The doors shut. Dave was happy that things were turning and definitely on the up. Rules of 3 always cheered him and gave him positive thoughts. No time for confusion...If only he knew what the hell Jason had been talking about. It took him until the exit to the work car park to decode Jason’s cryptic clues, and Dave made the necessary and highly uncomfortable detour on the way home to make a purchase of an item for the first time. The lady in the shop needn’t have laughed so much when he asked “do these come with instructions?”

  ***

  Chapter Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre

  ***

  Dave was far from comfortable, and it was time to take action. The first task was simple for most people, but a struggle for Dave. He stared for a few minutes at his mobile device before finally getting up the courage to press the button. He’d turned his phone off for the first time since he could remember having it, and he felt vulnerable and slightly disorientated.

  Task two involved Dave’s impression of Mother Theresa. The creams that Laura had provided had been supplemented by some stronger stuff purchased from the pharmacy on the way home. Admiring his naked body in the full length mirror, Dave couldn’t help but think that his nether regions looked more like the remnants of a freshly plucked turkey, rather than a set of tools that would be working magic tonight.

  Swishing from left to right and back again like a skier navigating a black run, there was no angle that made the view any better. Dave was confident that the selection of ointments was sure to start working soon enough, but his primary concern now was the pain he was in. When naked, with the fresh breeze of his clean bachelor pad in which to swing around, things were fine. But that scientific invention called friction was giving him a few issues.

  He hadn’t even dared to try on his new outfit yet, but the consensus review of the magazines and fashion advice from the sales assistant that afternoon, had provided Dave with the confidence that he’d look cool and calm on the outside. His worry was the sparks that were freshly igniting around his manscaped region, whenever he wore clothes. The only option was to numb the pain, so Dave mixed up a double dose of the pain killers he’d got from the pharmacy and shot them back.

  Sat on the edge of the bed, it was now time for the rule of 3 to commence. Starting a night on such great footing was a sure sign that things were going well. Strategically, you couldn’t ask for a better combination in Dave’s head. It was time for the ‘chat’. Dave often had the ‘chat’ before major meetings, but his recent confidence and success had reduced the need. Tonight’s experiment was a situation that required the chat.

  “Now you know you can do this and you know why. You are great at everything you put your mind to. Ambiguity doesn’t scare you, unchartered territory is where you do your best work and challenges are your dreams. You can, you will and you must conquer the hurdles. Do not let fear bring you down. It’s like driving a car. The theory seems scary, but once you get behind the wheel, it will all be OK.”

  Unlike the usual chats, Dave wasn’t looking at himself in the mirror. This time his chat was directed south, and he was now pointing as he continued his speech.

  “Now like driving, there are precautions you need to take. I remember the first time I wore a seat belt, thinking it was uncomfortable and unnecessary. Then you have your first near miss and you thank your seat belt. So whilst this might feel a bit strange, we have to do it.”

  The pointing stopped and Dave reached over for the box. He’d already removed the wrapping, and was now bemused to see that there were instructions in the packet. That silly women in the pharmacy and her giggling! Dave was finally admiring the pictures and accompanying words that would help him with the personal seat belt.

  “Right, here we go. Step one, OK? Which end is which? Oh I see. Nope, that is inside out. Ah-ha, got it. So I squeeze here and roll here. Then Step 3. Oh no. Now come on, don’t do that.”

  The inevitable was happening and the associated frustration and nerves of the event had meant that the star performer had made a temporary disappearance. No need for a seat belt if you haven’t got a driver. Attributing some of the shame to the cold in the room, Dave upped the thermostat on the heating to increase the ambient temperature.

  Pondering his next approach, Dave had an idea. When he had his pre-meeting chats, he made his room as much like the real event as possible to recreate the mood. This is what he had to do now.

  Hurriedly moving around the room, Sade was quietly lightening the mood from the music system, and the lights were dimmed to match the lowered nature of the blinds. Grabbing some candles from the living room and lighting them in the bedroom, the scene was nearly set. There was an obvious fear that with the heating and candles, Dave could actually shrivel into a prune in these sauna like conditions.

  Returning to the mirror, Dave’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his member looking like a snake about to shed its skin. The horrific view startled him in the dimly lit room, but closer inspection led to relief. He’d not removed the evidence of his last attempt, and the first seat belt was still dangling unattractively.

  Dave took several deep breaths and convinced himself he could do this. The room looked perfect. She’d be here with him. They’d be giggling. They’d kiss. They’d take their clothes off. “Actually, maybe I’d want to take my clothes off before they got creased so I could hang the
m up? Hmm, I’ll see how that goes.” And then they’d do the business.

  As Dave’s analytical brain assessed the situation, he realised a missing element from his near faultless process.

  “How do I naturally and subtly access my seat belt...it needs to be quick so that I don’t get flustered and stall the engine, but it needs to be precise so that I don’t startle the passenger.” Dave’s brain was built for crunching through scenarios, and within seconds he had it. He’d empathised with himself and re-enacted the situation. Mathematical certainty and probability suggested that he’d be most likely lay on the bed next to her when he needed his seat belt, so wherever he concealed them, they had to be in reaching distance of him lay in that position.

  The obvious candidate was on the bed side table, as that made it easily accessible, but what it gave in convenience it lacked in subtlety. Spreading his arms like a snow angel, the idea hit him as easily as all of his other amazing brain waves.

  Returning from a quick jaunt to the kitchen, Dave was armed with the resources required to pull this off. 3 strips of sellotape later, the plan was hatched. Now with all good plans, it was time for a road test.

  ‘Smooth Operator’ came on the music system and the candles were flickering. Dave lay back on the bed, and began feverishly kissing the pillow, rolling and gyrating. Dave was trying to think of the words to cement the moment, but they weren’t coming just yet. It didn’t matter. This was only a dry run. Rolling onto his back at the strategic side of the bed, he leaned below the bed and reached the wooden slat where he’d taped his seat belts.

  “Ouch!” Reeling back, Dave immediately took his finger to his mouth, before admiring it close up. It seemed the wooden slats on the bad were about as smooth as his manscaping and he’d got a splinter.

  “Well, if at first you don’t succeed!” Dave wasn’t going to be deterred by these minor setbacks. 45 minutes later, and after some detailed persistence, he’d achieved both of the first 2 Rules. Luckily, he’d invested in a bumper pack of seat belts for tonight’s drive, and after the experiment, there was still a few left. The generous side affect of his practice was that he’d inadvertently achieved Rule 2 whilst only intending to fulfil Rule 1. It wasn’t such a dry run after all. Mission accomplished, it was time for another dose of pain killers to keep the chaffing at bay, and then Dave’s new super hero outfit could finally be adorned.

  ***

  Chapter 7 P’s

  ***

  “Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. “

  His grandad had taught him well. Dave had chanted this several times to his underlings at work, and now it was his time to demonstrate how this mantra worked. The pain from the manscaping was subsiding thanks to the slight overdose of pain killers and keen application of creams.

  Still feeling a little tense, Dave knew that a quick drink would help settle any remaining nerves.

  Back in his room, armed with an ice cold vodka and lemonade, Dave studied his new outfit and the super hero look which was sure to bring him success on this fateful night. He could feel a warmth in his body that gave him real hope, which turned to sadness as he looked in the mirror and saw the sweat pouring from his body.

  The adorning of the new look would require the thermostat to be returned to room temperature, the blowing out of a myriad of candles and the selective opening of a few windows. It was time for Bruce Wayne to become Batman, and with a few healthy swigs of drink swilling around his now confident body, Dave grabbed his new trousers.

  “Come on!!!” The waist was a little way off its target, as Dave grappled intently with the new and only pair of jeans that he owned. A quick think through his scientific brain took him immediately to a few theories on friction. Grabbing a towel and some talcum powder from his bathroom, Dave dried himself off before making his legs iceberg white. Standing near the window to cool down, Dave resembled more of a hairy Casper than a senior executive. But now was no time for vanity.

  With a gentle heave and some well placed tugging, the jeans eventually made it all the way up to Dave’s waist, though he’d yet to button them up or breathe out. Using every bit of strength in his arms and some curious cycling movements on the bed, the legs were all the way in and the button was secure. Dave thought to himself “Luckily, the dehydration that I’m sure to be suffering after 45 minutes of self gratification in a make shift sauna, will surely limit my need to urinate tonight, so there was minimal risk in having to get out of these and back in them again”

  Strolling across the room to collect his shirt, something caught Dave’s eye and then went again. He repeated his steps, this time looking in the mirror for confirmation.

  “Oh shit!” With each step, a cloud of smoke enveloped the local area, as Dave’s legs looked like they’d snorted a lifetime’s supply of cocaine. Whacking his legs, Dave was able to get rid of the worst of the talc.

  The sparks that should have been flying and pain thresholds that should have been breached by the new jeans chaffing constantly on the sore manscaped grow back, wasn’t eventuating as Dave was effectively numb from the neck down having taken 24hrs worth of pain killers and rubbed in 4 applications of antiseptic anaesthetic cream in the last 2 hours. All pleasantly washed down with some vodka.

  Approaching the agreed meeting place, Dave’s pulse raced like the first time he graced a board room. His confidence was high tonight. Yes, he was entering the unknown, but he’d done that many times before and conquered all those who stepped in his way.

  With Jason as a wingman, and such a colourful list of references on the lady front, Dave was in safe hands. “Jason’s ability and experience, coupled with my skills, ability to pick up new tactics and appetite for success, should be a warning signal for all ladies out there tonight.”

  Dave caught Jason’s eye at a table, and approached trying to display a confidence that was foreign to him in this environment. “Are you OK boss? You look a bit uncomfortable?”

  Jason wasn’t wearing new clothes. In fact, it was hard to decipher which decade much of his outfit had been last washed in, let alone purchased in. On first glance his rough face stubble and light shaving rash had a startling resemblance to something he’d seen in his own mirror a few hours earlier, but that was for him to know and no-one else to find out about.

  “It would seem that I didn’t pull that off then. These jeans are a lot tighter than my work trousers.”

  “Too right mate. They look like they’ve been painted on! Let’s hope you don’t get a hard-on, coz the entire place will be able to see it. Poor thing packed in there. At least I can see that you’ve not brought your phone with you...good lad.”

  Dave would have blushed, but the plethora of pain killers had cut off most physiological reactions in his body. Distraction usually worked though. “What are those?”

  “Ah well, I gave you two rules before you left the office. The third rule is something that I think a man of your background and intelligence will appreciate.”

  “Go on”. Dave was secretly very pleased at how every part of the puzzle was falling into place tonight. The rule of 3 really was going to deliver. This was his third strategy on finding a woman, Jason was using the rule of 3 and there looked to be 3 drinks each on the table.

  “Well, the third rule is an equation and I know how you like those. Don’t think about women as something different to any other challenge you’ve had in life or problem you’ve needed to solve. Like all scenarios, there are constants and variables, but we’re going to ignore the constants coz we can’t change them. With me so far?”

  “100% Jason. But where on earth is this going?”

  “OK, so the variables are things we can influence. Two of these are very important, being your perception of yourself and your perception of the women you talk to, OK. We can influence these variables in the equation to proportionally increase your chance of securing a lady. The equation is simple. The more of this that you drink, the better chance we have tonight. The concoction though h
as been trialled, tweaked and tested over a number of years and this recipe is important to follow, OK?”

  “Yes Jason. Out of interest, what are they?”

  “The first drink here is a turbo shandy. It’s half super strong Belgian lager and half vodka lemonade. It tastes like a shandy, but kicks like a mule. It makes you happy drunk and very quickly. This will improve your ability with the women and their perception of you.”

  Dave took a swig. “Oh that is actually very refreshing. Quenches the thirst. Hmmm.” He took another massive swig, probably still dehydrated from his sauna experience.

  “The next two drinks combine, and these are what assists your perception of the women you are talking to. This is Jagermeister and this is Red Bull. Alone they are dangerous, and when consumed as one, they are lethally effective. Have you ever tried someone else’s prescription glasses on? Well this is like wearing Stevie Wonders contact lenses.”

  Before Jason had finished his chat, Dave had mixed the drinks in together; thrown them down his throat and was already doing the shudder as the various chemicals had their early impact.

  “Like with any equation, timing and in this case, pace is very important.”

  “Yeah, yeah. My round isn’t it. Same again?”

  Dave was already feeling better, and miraculously enough, the drinks concoction had had another secondary effect. His jeans suddenly felt comfortable, his new mask natural and he walked with a swagger that he’d never used before.

  By the fourth round, Dave’s swagger had adapted a touch of stumble as the magnitude of the drinks and the speed of consumption really kicked in. Jason detected this and made his announcement.

  “Right, we are now at the optimum equation level. The danger here is that if we drink too much, the variables work against each other. We need to stay at this level. Call it maintenance mode yeah. So from now on, we need to set a steady pace that keeps us this drunk.” As Jason went to gesture to demonstrate a fictitious level, both men giggled as an empty glass went one way and Jason’s stool went from beneath him.