“You’re cross with me, aren’t you?”
“Wherever did you get that idea from?”
“Let me make it up to you, come out for lunch with me. My treat.”
“I can’t. I’ve got that meeting at eleven, remember?”
“Ditch it and eat cake with me instead?”
“I can’t ditch a meeting at the agency, they’ll stop finding me work.”
“They haven’t found you work for over a month, I doubt you’d notice the difference.”
“Thanks Alison. Thanks a lot.” I got to my feet, putting the book under my arm as I headed for my room.
“I didn’t mean it,” she called after me. “Don’t be cross with me, please.” I heard the sound of her getting up, quickly followed by a thud and then a groan. Her hangover was kicking in then.
I couldn’t really criticise Alison for her exploits. Not really. At least she’d had a relationship or two. As for me, I was a ship adrift at sea with nowhere to drop my anchor. Other than the time I’m not going to talk about, I’d only kissed a few guys, not once had I met someone who I thought, yes, you’ll be worth taking to bed for my first time. I wanted it to be special when it finally happened and it turns out that outside the books on my bookcase, men who are special don’t seem to exist. Or so I thought.
It didn’t take me long to get ready for my meeting at Temps Ahoy. I wore the same business suit I always did, not that it seemed to make any difference in finding me decent employment. I couldn’t work full time as I still had college classes and that meant getting the dregs of the jobs that were available.
That was why this meeting had come as something of a surprise. They’d emailed me out of the blue to say they’d not only found me something, but if I was up to it, I could potentially earn what the delightfully erudite email called ‘shitloads.’
I’m not sure what language I expected from an employment agency called Temps Ahoy. But when you need work, you can’t really afford to get too picky. I wasn’t in huge debt, don’t get me wrong. It might have been touch and go at times paying for our houseshare but that wasn’t the real reason why I wanted the money. I was saving for something much bigger.
Checking my hair and face in the mirror for a final time before heading out, I allowed myself a little smile. I was like a superhero in an ill thought out comic strip. In pyjamas I looked school age, my short frame and youthful looks accentuated by my bedtime attire. Change into business suit and I was suddenly Corporate Woman, ready to break glass ceilings with my super-powered heels.
“And another thing,” Alison texted me as I walked through town towards the office. I always walked since the time I’d taken the bus and the driver had let me on for half fare, which was nice, then spent the journey trying to chat me up whilst telling me I looked like his daughter, which was not.
“If I was too frigid for him to see again, why’d I let him do anal on our first date?”
I blushed as I read the message, not sure how to reply. Would it make me look like a Victorian governess to tell her I could see no point to something that was surely going to hurt like, well, like buggery, I suppose.
“You’re better off without him,” I typed as I walked. It was evading the question but she didn’t seem to notice, flashing back quickly at me.
“Is it me? Do I attract the wrong guys?”
Yes, I thought silently. She went to the dodgiest bars, hung out on the strangest internet sites, posted semi-naked photos of herself online, then wondered why the men she dated were more interested in sex than long debates about Sartre. Limited as my sympathy was, I thought hitting her with a truth bomb while she was so deeply mired in her hangover might be a bit harsh.
“Maybe,” I wrote. “Maybe you’ve just not met the right man yet.”
“There can’t be many left,” she wrote. “I’m sure I’ve gone through most of them.”
“There might be a few left in the Orkneys to try.”
“Where’s that?” she asked. “Is that a new club?”
“Never mind.”
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” she asked out of the blue. It threw me, it wasn’t like her to ask a question like that.
“A princess in a castle,” I replied. “What about you?”
“Happily married. Fat chance. I’ll never meet anyone with a cock that big again.”
That was more like her. Normal service had been resumed. I didn’t know what to reply to that. I didn’t need to, she sent a second moments later.
“Sorry, forgot you’re still in the V club.