An Idiot in Love (a laugh out loud comedy) (21 page)

              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.

              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.