In a totally non-date fashion, obviously.
When I got back, I wheeled the bike into Jay's garage for safekeeping. Right next to Jay's impressive tally of three mountain bikes, only one of which was in pieces. I had a bit of a "D'oh!" moment as it occurred to me I could have just borrowed one of them rather than blowing the redundancy money on a bike of my own.
Nah. He'd never liked me playing with his toys. Besides, God alone knew how much he'd spent on these babies, even at trade prices. He wouldn't be too happy if I went out and trashed a thousand-pound piece of precision engineering. Pleased with that little bit of self-justification, I headed into the house.
Wolverine had finally turned up and was sitting in the middle of the hallway, where he could keep a beady eye on both the front door and the back-just in case I'd tried to sneak in and out without feeding him, I supposed. He miaowed impatiently at me. "All right, all right-hold your horses." Relieved to see him safe and sound, I grabbed a can of tuna. He made a beeline for me as I crouched down to fork it into his bowl, sniffing at me and then recoiling hurriedly.
A bit miffed, I gave my armpit a quick sniff and immediately wished I hadn't. "Okay, you're right," I conceded. "I stink worse than that cat food." Looked like my own dinner would have to wait-right now I was putting us both off our food.
I headed upstairs to get cleaned up.
***
After my shower, I checked my chest for grey hairs (none yet, but it was only a matter of time) and towelled my hair dry. Then I wrapped a towel round my waist and was about to go downstairs when it occurred to me I was alone here. No one to care if I walked around naked; no one to hiss What if the neighbours look through the window? at me. I blew a kiss at my hazy reflection in Jay's tiny bathroom mirror; already the clear patch I'd wiped was misting over again. After slinging the towel over the side of the bath, I sauntered downstairs, my cock bouncing lightly at every step. Damn, it felt good to be free.
Until, of course, the front door opened when I was halfway down the stairs and Olivia stepped into the house, her eyes exactly level with my tackle.
I did what any red-blooded male would do at this point, which was to cover myself up with both hands and splutter at her incoherently.
Olivia's perfect mask didn't crack. Either she had the world's best poker face or there was a really good staff discount on Botox at that salon of hers. "Tim," she said without lifting her eyes from my hastily hidden crotch. "Jay asked me to pick up a few things for him."
"Right," I said, a bit more croakily than I'd intended. I cleared my throat. "Do come in. I'll just, er, go and … " My hands made vague going-upstairs-with-a-suggestion-of-putting-some-clothes-on gestures, realised they'd abandoned my rapidly shrivelling manhood and scrambled back to bolt that stable door.
"I'll be in the lounge," she said glacially and swept away.
I bolted upstairs and grabbed the first pair of trousers I could find. Then I took them off again because they were Jay's and, as predicted, looked ridiculous on me. By the time I'd made myself decent and got downstairs again, Olivia's perfectly pedicured foot was tapping on the hallway carpet. "Coast's clear," I said with a nervous smile. "No more naked men up there."
She raised a pencilled-on eyebrow. "Should I have expected some?"
"Er, no. Definitely, no," I told her, my face about to spontaneously combust.
She swept past me and disappeared into Jay's bedroom. I tried to remember if I'd left my dirty underwear on the floor and came to the depressing conclusion that yes, I probably had.
There was the distant sound of drawers opening and closing; then Olivia's precise footsteps came back down the stairs.
"Get what you were after?" I asked to justify hovering by the door.
"Yes, thank you." She didn't enlighten me as to what it might have been. Small enough to fit into her handbag, whatever it was. Then again, her presumably fashionable handbag was so large she could have comfortably fit the bed in there. "You know," Olivia said thoughtfully as she turned to go, "we have a lot of male clients at the salon. Have you ever considered a little personal grooming? We do a good deal on male waxing."
I shuddered. "No, thanks."
"Or if you're nervous about pain, you could consider getting your intimate hair dyed. It'd cover up the grey beautifully. It was nice seeing you, Tim."
She swept out again, leaving me standing there, mortified. I had grey pubes? She'd seen my grey pubes?
I mentally added tweezers to the shopping list.
And some carpet slippers and a walking stick. They'd go nicely with the pension book I was obviously due for any day now.