I originally wrote this as an exercise in writing an all dialogue piece ( I was still struggling with dialogue at the time). A few years later I decided to re-write it and see if I could move it from exercise to story.
Most of the dialogue remained unchanged, but the story didn’t. Suddenly I needed to decide on a pont of view and a narrator. Cathy became as important to the story as Donna. She became the filter between the reader and the dialogue. Then she started to be introspective and the story was extended to include a new ending.
I believe that stories grow if we let them. We garden rather than create. If you change the frame the story climbs, it goes in different directions. Anyway, here’s an amusing story about how Donna finally got to have sex with her new boyfriend.
Donna had the look. You know the one I mean. The “recently-well-shagged” look that makes you smile at everyone even when you’re pink with embarrassment. I could see it in her face and in the way she moved and I realised that I envied her. It’d been way too long since I’d had that look.
I let Donna get as far as the coffee machine and then I pounced. I wanted all the details while they were fresh. I know it sounds freaky, like sniffing sheets or something, but after two long years of marital monogamy with Brian, I felt I deserved at least a vicarious dalliance.
“Well now, there’s a happy face for a Monday morning,” I said. “Come on; tell me: what have you been up to this weekend?”
“God, Cathy, is it that obvious?”
Donna brought her hand in front of her mouth, one extended finger touching her nose, like she’d been caught out – but the light in her eyes told me that she was just dying to share.
“Like a cat that’s had the cream,” I said.
“Well, that’s appropriate. I’ve had lots of cream. And you know me, I love to swallow.”
Donna is not gifted with subtlety. There was no hand in front of her face now. She was leaning towards me, touching my wrist as she mentioned swallowing. This level of smugness could only mean one thing…
“MY GOD! You melted the iceman!”
That came out much more loudly than I’d intended it to. Tracey and Melanie both looked up to see what was happening. I’m the boss here and I’m not supposed to be shrieking like a schoolgirl at nine in the morning. But I AM the boss here so I tilted my head at the two of them until they looked away, then I stepped closer to Donna and said, in a lowered voice, “You did, didn’t you?”
Donna gave me an evil grin that would melt concrete.
“Yep. And it was definitely worth the effort. We fucked so much I thought I’d be bowlegged by Monday”
“Donna. What a thing to say.”
Actually, I was a little shocked by that. I’ve never been comfortable with the F word. It’s just the way I was brought up. Then I thought about what she said rather than how she said it and images started to form in my mind.
“He was that good?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound too eager to know.
“Oh yeah. The man maxed me out. Not just all night; all weekend.”
All weekend. All weekend. The phrase bounced around inside my head like an echo. I could barely remember the last time Brian and I had gone all night. All weekend. What the hell would that feel like?
I spoke to bring myself back to earth.
“Donna, this is still Mr Unseducable, Mr Peck on the Cheek, Mr I-don’t-do-it-on-the-first-four-dates, the iceman himself, Mr Dick Randall?”
“Yep. I guess his name fitted better than we thought.”
She was bragging now. And she knew I’d put up with it to get all the details. I love details. But I didn’t want to seem to have my tongue hanging out, so I borrowed one of Donna’s ladette phrases and tried to sound cool with it all, even though the last echoes of “All weekend” were still snagging part of my attention.
“Well bugger me sideways,” I said. “Who’d have thought he had it in him? Or that he’d have it in you?”
Actually, that was all quite witty for me, I thought. I was beginning to get control of this conversation.
“So tell me, what did you do, knock him out, and tie him down?”
“Nope. I owe it all to Britney Spears,” Donna said folding her arms under her substantial breasts.
“Britney Spears? How…”
My brain was falling over my tongue; so much for me keeping control of the conversation. I pulled myself together and said, “I have to hear all about this, in detail, and you know what that means.”
“Breakfast at Cosmo’s?”
I steered Donna towards the door. As we passed my secretary’s desk I said, “Tracey, Donna and I are going out for a site inspection. Reschedule my 9:30 and keep me clear for the rest of the morning OK? Thanks Trace, you’re a doll.”
Tracey gave me a look to let me know that she knew where we were really going but she didn’t comment. It was a wise decision. After all, I am the boss around here.
It took us about fifteen minutes to get to Cosmo’s and install ourselves in one of the corner tables at the back. I resisted the urge to question Donna. I knew that it would be more satisfying to let her tell me everything. And I knew it would be everything. Poor old Brian still doesn’t know that the best night of sex we’ve had this year was prompted by Donna’s graphic description of her holiday in Ibiza. But to get Donna to tell me everything I’d have to get her in the mood so…
“There you are, Donna: pain au chocolat, tall latte and a lemon drizzle muffin. Don’t say I’m not good to you. So, tell me all about it.”
Donna smiled, bit off a huge piece of pain au chocolat, made me watch her eat it, then sat back in her chair, licked each of her fingers in turn, and said, “Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin. Once upon a time there was a little blonde girl called Donna.”
“Yeah blonde until the roots grow out.”
“Silence in the stalls please. When Donna was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was better.”
“You’re going to make me suffer for this, aren’t you, you cow.”
The truth is, I love the glee with which Donna tells her tales. She’s so at ease with herself and her appetites. Still, this was the first time she slipped into a fairy tale style. I hoped that didn’t mean she was going to miss out the good stuff. I decided not to show too much interest, so I sipped my latte with as much nonchalance as I could muster.
“Donna was in lust for a gentle giant that she privately thought of as the BFD, the Big Friendly Dick. Donna wanted the BFD in the worst way, but even though she smiled and hugged and kissed, and wore no underwear, she couldn’t get Dick to give her his big one.
Hah! That’ll teach you that you can’t sip latte and laugh at the same time, Cathy. Here, use my napkin.”
There was coffee coming out of my nose, but it was worth it. Donna was turning this into Panto. I’ve always had a weakness for Panto.
“Anyway, Donna realised that the BFD had to be under some kind of evil spell, so, one day, after she’d sent the BFD out to get fish and chips, Donna broke into the BFD’s laptop in search of the source of the spell. Donna wanted to know where the BFD went when he was alone with the internet.”
“Donna, you are so BAD.” Note to self: never let Donna near my computer.
“Thank you. It’s a gift, what can I say? Anyway, Donna followed the BFD’s internet footsteps (poor old BFD, he never cleared out his history file and left all sorts of things in favorites) and quickly discovered that he was in thrall to a pay-site called ‘Barely Legal Blowjobs’ where he worshipped everyday.”
“Never! Not one of those ones where young girls suck off icky old guys who splooge all over them? Yeuk!”
“Splooge? Yeuk? And how do you know about sites like that?”
“Ok, so splooge is not a real word, but honestly, have you ever seen these sites?”
“Yes, but I’m surprised that you have.”
“A few months back I thought I’d brighten up our sex lives by going onto the internet with Brian but all it did was make me wonder how men ever got to live on the same planet as the rest of us. I mean, I can understand wanting your thing sucked, but what is so good about putting all that goo everywhere?”
“Cathy, you have to get out more. There’s no reason to any of this; it either gets you off or it doesn’t. Anyway, what Donna learned from ‘Barely Legal Blowjobs’, (by the way, not all the guys were icky but there was a lot of splooge) was that nasty schoolgirls put lead in the BFD’s pencil. This gave Donna an idea and by the time the BFD returned from the chippy with cod, chips and two cans of coke, she had hatched a cunning plan that would finally make the BFD hers.”
“Fish and chips, my but he knows how to treat a girl.”
“If you’re going to be bitchy, Cathy, you won’t get to hear the rest of the story and then you’ll never know how he got his happy end in.”
“God, I hate puns. Hurry up and get to the raunchy bits.”
Actually, I really like puns but I can never think of them, but I did want her to get to the raunchy bits.
Donna took a sip of her coffee, and a bite of her muffin, not making eye contact, deliberately making me wait. When she started to lick crumbs off her fingers, I leant back in my chair, folded my arms, and let my displeasure show. She grinned at me. She has dimples when she grins and it’s very hard not to grin back but I managed.
“OK, OK,” Donna said, pushing her plate to one side, “Raunchy bits. I can do that.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can,” I said.
Donna grinned again, pushed her hair back behind her ears, and said, “Let’s roll forward to Friday night. Picture the scene, the BFD has arrived at Donna’s flat, found the door open, and wandered in to find a note saying ‘take a seat and receive a treat’. No sign of Donna.
The BFD sits. The lights dim. Music starts. Music he recognises. His favourite… Britney. Then, suddenly, there she is stepping out of the bedroom just like she is in the video: white blouse, short plaid skirt, school tie, and hair in braids.”
“You were doing a Britney impersonation?”
Donna is much bigger that Ms Spears. I could imagine the strain the blouse buttons were under and I was certain that tie was unable to lie straight.
“Right down to the microphone. I’d set up a little karaoke machine and written some amended lyrics. Wanna hear them? You can join in if you like.”
“Hey, people know me here, sing quietly.”
“Aw. Am I embarrassing Cathy?”
We were starting to draw attention from the other customers. One man two booths over was definitely eavesdropping. I glared at him, past Donna’s shoulder. Donna followed my gaze and then blew the guy a kiss. She has no concept of embarrassment. Fortunately, the man did; he got up to leave.
Donna turned back to me and said, “OK, I’ll sing quietly and I’ll only do the chorus.
I strutted in, gripping the mike, and sang my version of “Baby, Baby” to him. He LOVED the chorus:
‘My horniness is killing me
I must confess I need relief
Wanna suck you hard, wanna blow your mind
Tell me your mine
Do me baby one more time’
All this time I’m singing, I’m doing the dance, flashing my legs in those little white socks men all seem to love, tossing my braids around, and playing with that silly schoolgirl tie.”
“And what was Dick doing during all this?”
“Well his chin pretty much hit the floor at first and then he got this funny look on his face. You’ve never seen so much concentration. He was sweating at the forehead and his tongue kept flicking across his lips. It made me want to laugh.
So I get to the big finale, and as I sing my last ‘Do me baby, one more time’, I drop to my knees right in front of him, fling my arms wide, toss my head all the way back, and just stay like that, breathing hard after all the dancing.”
Donna breathing heavily is always an impressive site. Breathing heavily in that position must have been positively dramatic.
“Jesus, the poor man must have been creaming in his Dockers. What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He stood up, really quickly, unzipped and pulled his cock out. I’d wanted to see that thing for weeks and finally there it was, giving me the one-eyed squint. Well it wasn’t as long as I’d hoped it might be, but it was thick. I mean think of a Snickers bar and then think wider. Yeah. Exactly. I just had time to think, ‘shit I hope he doesn’t want anal’, when made his move.”
“Let me guess. The BFD suddenly moves into Dom mode and says, in a deep voice tinged with pomposity, ‘suck it bitch’ and you got the giggles.”
“Nope, stranger than that. It was like someone-else had moved in behind his eyes; someone who’d been waiting a long time to get free. He used one hand to tilt my head and the other to pull down my jaw and then he pushed that damned Snickers bar prick of his all the way in. I’d imagined licking it and nibbling it. He wanted to give me an endoscopy with it. He grabbed my braids and used them like handles.”
This did not appeal to me at all. I couldn’t understand what Donna was so pleased about. I was getting angry with Mr Dick.
“If he’d tried that with me, I’d have shown him how to make his Snickers bar bite-sized,” I heard myself saying.
“Actually, I liked it. I mean, once I figured out how to get my breath. He was so focused and so needy and I got in to a rhythm. I just let him face fuck me. It made me feel like the slut I’d always wanted to be but never dared to become.”
The slut she’d always wanted to be? What was going on in her head?
“Hello, ‘Earth calling Donna’, this man was abusing you.”
“Yeah. And I liked it. Actually, it only lasted a few seconds. Then he suddenly lets go of me. His face looks stricken and he’s starting to apologise and his cock is just sort of swinging in front of him and he’s saying how he didn’t mean it and he’ll do anything.”
Ok, maybe Mr Dick wasn’t a complete shit, but I’d have been out of there double quick time.
“Well, I hope you told him that if he did that again, he’d regret it.”
“Actually I was too busy coughing and wiping the tears from my eyes and realising how wet I was, to say anything.”
Wet? This made her wet? Maybe I wasn’t ready for the raunchy bits after all.
“Anyway, I finally realise he’s repeating my name and waiting for some kind of response.”
“And I wrapped my hand round his cock, stuck my tongue out, closed my mouth, and started to rub the tip of his cock against my tongue. He just stood there. I was in charge now and it felt great. I grinned at him and slapped his cock against my lips like they do in those porno vids.”
“What porno vids? I thought your favourite movie was ‘Titanic’?”
“Shows what you know. I have wide ranging tastes and no boyfriend. Anyway, I look up at him and I decide to sing the chorus again. As I sing, I hold his cock up against my mouth like it’s a microphone and I work his shaft with my hand. I end with ‘Come on me baby, one more time’ and he does.”
“Yeuk.” I put my coffee down. I may never drink latte again.
“No, not yeuk. I liked it. I liked it because I was frying his mind. He went into complete burnout. And here’s the thing; it wasn’t just his dick that was thick. I mean, this man could splooge for England; I was covered.”
“Too much information.”
Way too much. I was looking at Donna like I’d never seen her before. It’s not that I’m a prude or anything. I’ve sucked Brian’s cock from time to time when he’s needed help getting started but I would never let him spew all over me like that.
“How could you just stay there and not want to wash that stuff off?”
The tone of my question must have shown too much disapproval. Donna sat back in her chair and I wondered if she was going to stop the story there and leave in a huff. Instead, she got defensive.
“Well I did go and wash it off, sort of,” she said, in a slightly sulky tone. “I stood up, grabbed his prick, which by the way, was still quite hard, and led him into the bathroom. Then I made him undress me and wash me all over starting with my face. I told him I was his fantasy girl for the weekend. Poor man was like a dog with two tails. He could not believe his luck.”
I said nothing.
“And believe me, Cathy, the first time I felt myself stretch around that thing of his – whoa that felt snug – I couldn’t believe mine.”
Now this was something I could identify with. Not from my time with Brian of course, but before Brian there had been Tim – who had been anything but tiny. He was a perfect fit. Absolutely perfect. God, that had felt good. It’s just a shame that he was an egomaniac who always wanted a detailed review of his performance. No performance anxiety for Tim. He’d have filmed us and gone through the highlights in slo mo if I’d have let him.
Donna was studying me, waiting to see if I would cheer or disapprove.
“Snug huh?” I said, allowing myself to smile
“Vacuum seal snug.” Donna was smiling too and shifting in her chair.
I wanted to be able to squirm like that. To have a memory that I could hug to myself. A secret pleasure to warm my soul when I need it.
“And you spent the whole weekend having sex?”
I was letting some approval show in my voice now; I didn’t want Donna to think I was judging her. And besides, I was letting myself think about the reality of vacuum-tight sex that went on all weekend, the desire that it was fuelled by, the glee that it must generate. Sometimes, Tim would stay in me after he came, still hard and hot. I would lay on top of him, every muscle aching with pleasure, completely filled, completely sated.
“Yep we pretty much spent the entire time fucking in my big firm bed.” Donna’s words cut across my reflections like static on a radio.
“But the nice part was that we also ate in bed and drank in bed and swapped stories in bed.”
For a moment, there was a tenderness in her tone that made her previous bravado seem a little brittle, then she appeared to remember whom she was talking to and she said, in a bright and cheerful voice:
“After all, not even Mr Snickers could keep it up for the whole weekend.”
Then she lent forward, filled with girlish enthusiasm and said, “But you haven’t heard the best bit yet. He said that, as I’d acted out his fantasy this weekend, he will act out mine next weekend.”
“And what fantasy is that?”
“I don’t know yet – but I have the whole week to think about it. Good isn’t it?”
“You’re a lucky girl, Donna,” I said, and I meant it
After that, we finished our coffee and headed back towards the office. Part way there, I made an excuse so that I could spend a little time alone. I walked around the block, letting myself think about Donna’s adventure with the BFD; the weekend she’d already had; the weekend that lay ahead; the fulfilment of fantasies; the telling of stories in bed.
I knew my fantasy didn’t include having someone use my mouth and face as a sperm-bank, but listening to Donna had reminded me that there were other things, other ways of feeling, that I missed.
I got my mobile phone out before I realised that I going to make a call. My fingers pressed the buttons by themselves.
“Hello?” a male voice, sounding slightly stressed.
“Brian? It’s me.”
“Hey, Cath!” Some of the stress left his voice but it ebbed back when he said, “Can I call you back? It’s hell on wheels here.”
Normally, I would have said “Sure,” but not today.
“Brian, I want you to come home early.”
“How about now?”
“Do you remember that weekend in Paris?”
When I’d started this call I’d been acting on impulse; now part of me was ready to curl up into a foetal position and cry if this didn’t work.
I spoke into the silence, not yet ready to give in.
“It was the one where we stayed up all night talking…”
“… then made love in the morning and missed checkout time. Of course I remember.”
Brian was speaking quietly, almost furtively.
“Sorry about the silence,” he said, “I had to step out of the room.”
Now I’m silent, imaging him speaking into that ridiculous wireless earpiece he wears, standing in some corridor, hoping no one hears him talking to his wife.
“Cath? Are you still there?”
“Good. I thought this thing had dropped out again. Anyway, what’s this about Paris? And what’s the emergency?”
I wanted to say, “The emergency is that our relationship is dying and I want to go to Paris to revive it. I want to get that intimacy back. I want to get that thrill back.” Instead, I heard myself saying, “Nothing really, I thought I’d lost my keys but I found them in my purse while we were on the phone”
“But, what about Paris?”
He was using his ‘all problems can be solved’ tone. In the background, I could hear him being called back into a meeting. I stayed silent.
“Listen, Cath, I’m glad you found your keys. I’ve gotta go, we’re up against a deadline on the A&J thing. This will be an all night affair I’m afraid. I’ll call you later. Love you.”
The line went dead.
I wondered if that was all that was dead.
I refused to cry.
I thought about Donna and her BFD. I let myself think about nothing else.
Then I made another call.
“Tim? Hi. It’s Cat… Yeah, long time no see… Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I didn’t call you either. So are you still working in the City? Yeah? Great. Listen, I have to meet a client there this morning. Do you have time to do lunch? Great. I mean good. So, the wine bar at Bishopsgate around twelve? Great. See you then. Ciao.”
I closed my phone and headed towards the Tube. The thing to do was not to let myself think too much; to let someone else move in behind my eyes, like the BFD did; to reach for what I want the way Donna would. “After all,” I told myself, “It’s just lunch. It’s just a marriage. They’re both just fantasies really. Aren’t they?”
© Mike Kimera 2005 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from firstname.lastname@example.org
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