Copyright © 2021 by Matt Shaw

ISBN

978-1-716-27020-8

Matt Shaw Publications

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The characters in this book are purely fictitious.

Any likeness to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

www.facebook.com/mattshawpublications

From the author of:

Full Moon

The Den

The Pack

Octopus

Octopus II

Octopus III

Sick B*stards

SickER B*stards

SickEST B*stards

How Much To..?

How Much 2?

The Game

The Game 2: Mid-Season Break

The Island

Murder House

This Or That

To get the most of these stories, they need to be read in order although it ruins nothing if you start with Octopus 1-3 and then go back to read the Full Moon Trilogy.

Signed Books and more

www.mattshawpublications.co.uk

VALENTINE’S SLAY

IT’S A THIN LINE BETWEEN LOVE & HATE

Matt Shaw

- Contents -

A Word From Matt Shaw

Love Hurts

Yours,

Tom (Watkins)

A Fact From The Author

One Track Mind

A Fact From The Author

So Happy Together

The World’s Hate

The Gift

Eating Out

Red Wine

Noise

Only The Lonely

A Word From Matt Shaw

I know I come across as a romantic kind of guy (cough) but, I fucking detest Valentine’s Day. I didn’t always. I blame Gill Donovan because she was a massive dick to me.

Gillian was my first girlfriend, back when I was about seventeen years old (I went to an all boys’ school first so, didn’t get to sniff women until secondary school). Anyway, that bitch broke up with me at the end of January but then, much to my delight, she got back with me a week into February. Being an absolute mug, I went out and spent loads of money on her for Valentine’s Day because I was foolish enough to think I cared for her. I remember getting her a big card (size matters), a Shaun the Sheep rucksack (she loved Shaun the Sheep) and this rose-type thing which looked pretty but you opened the pretend-velvet petal to reveal a hidden ring inside.

At this time of my life, I worked full time in a shoe shop. We’re talking about 36-40 hours a week. I would bring home about £700-£800 a month. Of that money, I spent over £100 on that one day on Gill. She got me a 99p keyring and dumped me a day later. Since then, I have always kind of loathed doing anything for Valentine’s Day. I don’t like the pressure we are put under to get gifts and do nice gestures for people we love. I would sooner do something on a day of my choosing and because I want to. To me, that means more. Fuck the card shops who made this expensive, bullshit day. Why? Just so they can drive profits up and sell stupid teddy bears, and so garages can drive the prices up on their near-dead flowers. Fuck them all. And fuck Gill Donovan. Although now I am sitting here wondering whether the guy she slept with, behind my back, got her anything for Valentine’s Day. Hopefully a massive dose of crabs but, I can feel myself going off on a tangent.

Now not all of the stories within this collection are horrible and anti-Valentine’s. Some of them are nothing to do with the day at all and - instead - about true love or, supposed true love, so hopefully there will be something in here to your taste and hopefully - through the writing - you will understand my true disdain towards the day.

That being said, March 14th (Steak and Blow-job Day) is a very important day and one that should be celebrated every year without fail. Ladies, I am ready. (Ziiiiiiip).

LOVE HURTS

XXX

‘He loves me.’

A man screams.

‘He loves me not.’

A man screams.

‘Oh dear, that’s not very nice now, is it? Are you sure that is how you feel? After all that I have done for you?’

A man pleads.

‘He loves me. Ah. That’s better, isn’t it?’

A man screams.

‘Honestly all this fuss you’re making. Is loving me really that bad? Oh wait a minute…’

A man begs.

‘He loves me not.’

A man screams and a woman cries.

‘I thought we had something special. You were the one for me and I hoped I was the one for you. Yet… You don’t love me. Is that right?’

A man whimpers something inaudible.

‘Did I jump the gun too soon? I do hope so…’

A man begs.

‘He loves me.’

A man screams.

‘Oh, you really are a little tease, aren’t you? You know it isn’t nice to play with people’s emotions, don’t you? It’s quite cruel and…’

A woman’s voice fades. A man desperately shakes his head and struggles.

‘He loves me not.’

A man screams.

‘Why are you doing this to me?! Do I really deserve this? Toying with my emotions and yet, really, I guess it is only myself that I have to blame, right?’

A man begs and struggles. A woman wipes her cheeks free of tears.

‘I refuse to cry over you. You simply aren’t worth it and… Wait…’

A man pleads again.

‘How could I have missed this?’

A man shouts for “help”.

‘He loves me!’

A man screams. A woman laughs.

‘You do love me! You really do, don’t you? When I told my psychiatrist about you, she was adamant that I should move on and set my mind to something else, but I was right all the time, wasn’t I? I was right to pursue you and make this… happen. But… What’s this?’

A man, crying, shouts out again before begging once more.

‘He loves me not.’

A man screams.

‘No! No! I refuse to believe it! This isn’t right. It’s a mistake. You’re confused, that is all. You’re just confused.’

A woman laughs.

‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’

A woman laughs.

‘Honestly, I am stupid sometimes but…’

A woman giggles. A man begs.

‘He LOVES me!’

A man screams.

‘I simply cannot wait to have your babies but, I think I’ve talked about this before, I want us to be married first. I am sorry if you don’t feel the same way, but I must simply insist on that because my mother and father… They are quite religious, you know, and… Wait… What’s this?’

A man begs. He pleads and weeps.

‘He loves me not…’

A man screams. A woman holds up the last fingernail.

‘It can’t be right. No! No! It can not be right! I simply refuse to believe it…’

A man cries. A woman desperately looks at his hands for more nails to remove.

‘You don’t love me? You really don’t love me?’

A woman cries.

‘Then why should I bother keeping you around?’

A man screams. A woman reaches for a knife.

Yours,

Tom (Watkins)

XXX

The letter arrived via the post but there was no stamp, or post mark on the pristine white envelope. In fact, the only thing marking said envelope was her name; Sharen Ann Fortune. It was written in black ink. With the beautiful sweeps and strokes of the ink, it was evident to those who knew better that this had been written with a fountain pen and not a scratchy ball-point.

Sharen Ann’s mother looked at the envelope with a puzzled expression. She had collected the morning post from the doormat and thumbed her way through the various letters as she made her way back to the kitchen where her family were enjoying their morning breakfast. Most looked like the usual bills which seemed to be coming to the house with more and more frequency, but this one was definitely intriguing. As she walked into the kitchen, she held the envelope out towards her daughter. ‘This one has your name on it,’ she said. With a teasing tone she continued, ‘Looks like someone has a secret admirer.’

Sharen Ann’s father looked up from his iPad. He had been reading the morning news bulletins on the clear screen. He looked at the envelope, ‘What’s that?’

‘Sharen has a secret admirer,’ she said again.

Sharen Ann’s face flushed. ‘Shut up!’ Her mother laughed as Sharen Ann snatched the envelope from her.

‘No stamp. The address isn’t even on there either,’ her mother continued, curiously waiting for Sharen Ann to open the letter so she could see what was inside. ‘You know what that means?’

‘Mum, please!’

Her mother laughed again. ‘Hand delivered…’ She said again, ‘Somebody has a secret admirer.’

‘Boys come creeping round the house late at night and, I’m just putting this out there, I’ll shoot them.’

‘Dad!’

‘Can’t take any risks. They could be intruders.’

‘No one is sneaking around late at night…’

‘Well someone has been. You don’t just post letters out with no address or stamp and have them get to the destination. That was hand-delivered.’

Sharen Ann set the letter to the side and continued eating her cereal. She was very aware that both of her parents were eye-balling her.

‘What? You’re not going to open it?’ Her mother almost looked disappointed.

‘I’m eating my breakfast.’

Her nosy mother continued to pry, ‘Do you know who it is from?’

Sharen Ann smiled sarcastically. ‘How can I know who it’s from if I haven’t opened it?’

‘Might recognise the handwriting.’

Sharen Ann rolled her eyes. She turned the subject back to her mother and asked, ‘Aren’t you going to open your post?’ She nodded towards the letters her mother had put down on the table when she’d taken her seat again.

‘They’re only bills. They’re not going anywhere.’ Straight to the point, she said, ‘I want to know about your letter.’

Sharen Ann put her spoon down and leaned back in her chair with a look of disbelief. ‘Really? Is my business that important to you?’

‘Well, I mean it’s got to be from a boy…’

‘Why? Why does it have to be from a boy?’

Her father piped up, ‘Yes, why does it have to be from a boy?’

‘Thank you, dad…’

‘Might be a girl. She might be a lesbian.’

‘Dad!’

‘What? It’s not like you’re very open with us, is it? You’re sixteen years old and we hardly know what goes on in your life.’

‘I can’t believe you’re both being like this.’

Her mother got defensive and tried to reassure her daughter, ‘We’re just interested in what’s going on in your life.’

‘No. You’re interested in who has been writing to me.’

‘Well that as well.’

‘Maybe it’s drugs,’ her dad said unrealistically.

‘What?!’ Sharen Ann looked at him in disbelief.

‘That’s why you don’t want your mother knowing what is inside. You know she would be upset about drugs. It makes sense, if you think about it.’

‘Jesus… If you really want to know who it is from here…’ Sharen Ann picked the letter up and slammed it down again on the table. This time it was between her parents who continued to eye it with curiosity. ‘You want to know? You can open it.’

Her dad rolled his eyes. ‘We’re not going to open…’ Before he could finish his sentence, Sharen Ann’s mother grabbed the letter from the table and ripped into it. Both he and Sharen Ann looked at her with complete surprise in their eyes. Sharen Ann had dared them to open it, if they were that desperate to know who it was from, but she didn’t expect them to actually open it. She actually thought her challenging them would shut the conversation down but - clearly not. She watched as her mother pulled out a cream-coloured letter, A4 in size and folded into three with a black ribbon around it, tied in a pretty bow.

‘Very fancy,’ her mother said.

‘I can’t believe you!’ Sharen Ann leaned forward and grabbed the letter from her mother’s hand before she managed to undo the ribbon. Left with only the envelope in her hand, her mother gave it a sniff. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Aftershave,’ her mother said with a grin. ‘Someone went to a lot of effort for you. That’s sweet.’

‘Or perfume,’ her dad said.

‘Dad! I’m not a lesbian!’

‘I’m not saying you are but if you were, know that it wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, I think it might even be easier…’

‘Oh my God!’

‘Anyway it might be a woman writing to you still. Just because you have received a letter from someone…’

Her mother chirped in, ‘Love letter…’

‘Just because you have received a love letter from someone, it doesn’t mean it’s someone you like. It could be another girl…’

‘Honestly… I can’t believe you two…’ Sharen Ann got up from her chair and stormed from the room, letter in hand.

Her father glanced at her mother. She was sitting there, staring right back at him with a disapproving look on her face. He asked, ‘What?’

‘Lesbians? Really?’

‘Never say never. Until she comes home talking about a boy, it could go either way in today’s world. Anyway, don’t sit there judging me. I was just winding her up. You actually opened the letter!’

‘Like you wouldn’t have?’

‘No actually, I wouldn’t have. Mainly because - honestly - I couldn’t be bothered. I only joined in because I like watching her squirm and I’d finished the morning papers.’

‘The morning iPad,’ she said sarcastically.

Their bickering and general point-scoring was nothing new and would continue until they both left for work. Meanwhile, Sharen Ann was upstairs, undoing the black ribbon’s dainty bow.

*

My Dearest Sharen Ann,

I have a feeling you wouldn’t be expecting this letter from me - not today, not ever. We don’t really talk much at college, despite sharing many classes together and - when you have tried to speak to me - I am sure I came across as a stuttering fool. You probably think I stutter all of the time and yet, I can assure you, I do not. I am more than capable of speaking without a stutter but, when talking to you, there it is. The reason for this is because I have fancied you from afar for almost a year now. Even on my darkest days, you can walk into a room and automatically make everything feel so much brighter. The way you talk is like music to my ears, the way you smile… I am completely smitten with you and wish nothing more than to take you for a drink sometime and give you a glimpse of the real me on the off chance you like what you’re presented with. Of course, such a drink would never happen without me first telling you how I feel and then actually asking you out and, God knows I have tried many times to do just this but… Well, here I am, sitting in my bedroom having snuck a bottle of my father’s vodka from his alcohol stash. I don’t even like alcohol. I don’t like the taste and I don’t like feeling out of control and yet, for this purpose, it seems to be the best way although I hope you don’t think of me as a coward for needing a drink - or several - before even writing you this letter.

There is so much more I wish I could tell you but I don’t want to scare you off, thinking I am some kind of creep because, I promise you, I am not. Anyway, I hope to see you in class tomorrow (today, by the time you read this I guess). Hopefully, my hangover won’t be too severe, and you won’t feel the need to avoid me. Oh, and don’t worry - I won’t come and approach you so, if you’d like that drink sometime, just let me know and I’ll ask you out properly. Perhaps for something to eat? There’s a nice new restaurant that has opened near me which I think you might like but anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. You’ll probably not be interested anyway. But on the off-chance you are… Anyway, I’ll stop rambling. I need to get this letter to you before morning, and definitely before I sober up!

Yours,

Tom (Watkins)

*

Sharen Ann was sitting in the passenger seat of her mum’s car. It was Wednesday and always on a Wednesday, Sharen Ann would get a lift to college thanks to her mum’s shift tying in perfectly. Today though, Sharen Ann couldn’t help but wish she had just ignored her mum calling her down to leave. Instead, she could have gone and got on the bus as usual. That way she wouldn’t have had to listen to her mum’s non-stop prying.

‘So, who was it from then? What did it say?’

‘I don’t ask you who your letters are from, do I?’

‘I don’t tend to get very exciting post,’ her mum answered.

‘Exciting?’

‘It’s not every day someone hand-writes you something and drops it round by hand. Especially going so far to wrap it in black ribbon!’ She added, ‘Whoever it was must really like you.’

‘It was an invitation to the prom.’

‘From a boy?’

‘From the college. They sent letters out detailing the date and venue. There. Happy?’

Her mother laughed. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday.’

‘Clearly,’ Sharen Ann said sarcastically.

‘So, you’re not going to tell me who it is?’

Sharen Ann changed the subject, ‘Come on! What is wrong with this traffic?!’ She fidgeted in her seat out of frustration. To be fair, they had been sat in the same spot for almost thirty minutes now. Traffic wasn’t usually this bad at this time of the morning. Not on this route anyway. She moaned, ‘I’m going to be late.’

‘In a hurry to get to college?’ With a grin her mother went on to ask, ‘Hoping to see someone before lessons start, huh?’

‘Mum! Can you give it a rest please!’

Her mum was right though. Sharen Ann did want to get to college to talk to someone before class but it wasn’t Tom. She wanted to tell her friend, Annie, about the letter. She wasn’t sure what to say to Tom, if anything. She’d always thought he was cute and she liked that he wasn’t as loud as the other lads in her class. He had an air of mystery about him which intrigued her, and her friend! They’d both talked about Tom before but never once did Sharen Ann think he liked her. It was flattering to know his thoughts but at the same time, she would have preferred him to just come up and talk to her. The letter was definitely a bit weird although it amused her how he needed to have a drink before he even dared to pen it. Still, he did have beautiful hand-writing, even if he was a little tipsy. As Tom kept dancing around in her thoughts, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

‘Screw this,’ her mother said, pulling Sharen Ann’s mind back to the car. Without explaining herself, her mum turned down the closest backstreet, cutting up a car that was heading towards her. As the other driver thumped their horn, Sharen Ann’s mum gave a little wave of her hand as an apology.

‘It would be quite nice not to die though,’ Sharen Ann said.

‘Don’t be so melodramatic. If someone has time to sound their horn, they have more than enough time to avoid you so - they’re just making a point. It’s a close call when the other driver doesn’t have the time to sound their horn. That’s when you can moan at me for my driving.’

‘I can’t wait to get my licence.’

‘Me neither. It will be nice to have you drive me around instead,’ she said with a smile.

Sharen Ann rolled her eyes, unseen by her mum.

They took a left-hand turn and hit more traffic. ‘Great.’

*

By the time Sharen Ann got to college, she was indeed late. Lessons had already started so she made her way straight to her English class. As she navigated the corridors, she couldn’t help but wonder whether Tom thought her absence was because of him. Maybe she was avoiding him after the letter he’d sent? The more she thought about the scenario, the more she felt sorry for him. She still didn’t know what to do about Tom, or what she felt for him but - whatever she decided - she wouldn’t want to make him feel bad! That wouldn’t be fair, especially after all the obvious effort he had gone to. She smiled to herself, he probably deserved a date. Maybe that way he would learn it isn’t scary talking to girls and he wouldn’t need to send another letter later.

Sharen Ann reached her class and opened the door. Mr. Smart was standing at the front of the room, talking to the rest of the pupils. He stopped and glanced towards her, the moment she stepped in. She half expected him to say something but he didn’t. He simply waited for her to take her seat. With her eyes down, embarrassment coursing through her veins, she headed for her desk at the front. When she sat, she noticed Annie was looking at her from the next desk over. Sharen Ann cast her a quick look and pulled a “whoops”  face by drawing down on her bottom lip.

Mr. Smart continued, ‘As I was explaining, if anyone needs any support during this time, the counsellors are available to you. We appreciate this would have come as a massive shock. It did to all of us and our thoughts are with his family in this difficult time.’ He added, ‘Now, if you’d like to get your text books out and turn to page 93…’

As the pupils reached for their text books, Sharen Ann asked Annie, ‘What was all that about?’

‘Tom Watkins has died,’ Annie said, shock in her voice.

Sharen Ann’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What?’

‘Crashed his father’s car. Apparently, he took the keys last night and… Well…’

Sharen Ann felt her whole body heat up in an instant. Unsure whether it was a sick joke, she glanced over her shoulder and back towards Tom’s seat. But he wasn’t there. Instead, there was nothing but an empty desk with a chair tucked neatly against it.

Sharen Ann’s eyes started to well and - in that moment - she realised what her feelings had been for the mysterious lad who sat at the back of the class.

Annie noticed her expression and asked, ‘Are you okay?’

FACT FROM THE AUTHOR:

I was twenty years old. There was a girl I liked. Her name was Jo. She used to come around quite a lot and we used to cuddle up on the sofa together, at my flat, and watch our favourite television shows together. At the end of the evening, I would walk her home and would usually have her in stitches, laughing her butt off with some stupid jokes.

When I turned twenty-one years old, I took myself off to Australia for a couple of weeks and left Jo with a note about how I felt about her. I had been burned badly by Gillian The Cunt and didn’t fancy rejection face to face. I walked around to her home, the day I was leaving for Australia, and I posted the letter through her letterbox. The final part of the letter said how I was looking forward to seeing her when I got back from my trip. I even bought her a nice present whilst I was out there. A crystal Koala bear which cost me a fair penny, I can tell you.

I never heard from her again.

One Track Mind

XXX

‘Fucking hell, you suck dick so good!’ Admittedly Jack didn’t have anyone to compare Lilian’s skills too. This was the first time he had ever seen a woman naked and certainly the first time he had ever had the pleasure of putting his penis in a woman’s mouth. ‘Baby, you’re the best,’ he said as he started sliding his little prick between her lips for added sensation. He sighed, ‘So fucking good.’

His friend, Ben, said, ‘You should feel how tight her pussy is.’ Just as Jack didn’t have much experience, for a true comparison, neither did Ben. Up until now, he too had been a virgin although - one step up from his friends - he had at least seen a naked girl before. He just hadn’t managed to make the most of that situation after he’d been premature.

Both of them had been desperate for this moment for so long that when the opportunity came up, they didn’t give a shit that they’d be doing it as a threesome and seeing each other naked. So long as they got to bolt their load, that was all they cared about and, the fact they were allowed to do whatever they wanted was just the icing on the cake and the reason why Ben had jammed his thumb up Lilian’s winking asshole whilst he has fucking her.

Between his sighs, and words of encouragement to Lilian, he said to his friend, ‘Just don’t cum inside  her. Not until I’ve tried her pussy too. That was the deal.’ And that had been the deal. They would both take it in turns fucking all Lilian offered but if either of them couldn’t hold out, and needed to ejaculate, they’d do so over her body. That way they didn’t get coated in each other’s cum which - as they’d both discussed - was a step too far. One thing fucking, and losing their virginity, to the same slut but quite another to ice their pricks with one another’s messy ejaculate and speaking of ejaculate…

‘Fuuuck…’ Jack could feel an orgasm building. The old tell-tale signs of tingles in his inner thighs. ‘Stop, stop a minute,’ he said. He pulled out of Lilian’s mouth. She kept her eyes fixed to his. Whilst it wouldn’t have been a bad thing to cum in her mouth, he wanted to know what her pussy was like and didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity. God only knew if something like this would come up again.

‘Fuck my pussy.’

Jack said to Ben, ‘Swap with me.’

‘Wait a minute…’ Ben pulled his dick out of Lilian’s cunt. He spat in his hand and wiped his saliva over his prick which he then nudged against her asshole. She didn’t stop him as he eased into her. ‘Oh fuck…’

Jack just watched for a moment. ‘What’s it like?’

Ben said, ‘So fucking good.’

The two of them were constantly horny. Whenever they were together, their conversations were about sex and how they’d fuck their women. How they’d stuff it in their pussy, mouth and - of course - arseholes. They discussed tit-wanks, hand-jobs, foot-jobs and their favourite porn from the previous night. Basically, their whole purpose of living seemed to be centred around sex. But then, they were just typical teenage lads.

‘Shit I could just cum right now,’ Ben said.

‘No! Not inside her.’ He said again, ‘Come on swap with me.’

‘Mmmmm baby, fuck me. Give me your big dick…’

Ben pulled out even though he could have stayed in there all day. No, all week. Still a deal was a deal. He would start in her pussy and Jack in her mouth and then - at some point - they would swap. That was the rules.

‘Come on, baby… Don’t stop…’

Ben said, ‘Quick then.’

The two lads stepped over the railway tracks which separated them. Ben leaned down and picked Lilian’s head up from the dirt, where Jack had left it. He sighed as he slid his prick into her mouth.

‘I want you to cum inside  me.’

Jack stood there a moment, on the opposite side of the tracks as he looked down at the headless body. It was obvious what had happened to the woman although neither Jack nor Ben could understand why she wouldn’t have just moved out of the way of the train. In this moment though, Jack didn’t care about the “why”. He was just grateful for what had been provided to him as a result. This was the first time he’d seen a pussy in real life and he wanted to savour every moment. He laughed and called out to his friend, ‘Remember when you moaned about going for a walk because you couldn’t be bothered? Bet you’re glad I dragged you out now!’ He didn’t need an answer from Ben. He could tell by his friend’s moans that he was enjoying himself. Jack lowered himself down and eased his throbbing cock into the dead woman’s slit. ‘Fuck me that’s tight,’ he said.

‘You’re so big and,’ the girl on the porn film - playing on Jack’s mobile phone, which was propped against a tree - had her voice drowned out by another approaching train.

FACT FROM THE AUTHOR:

I was eleven years old when I first saw a vagina. My school friend, Ben, brought some magazines into the private school I attended and showed me at break time. He didn’t let me keep any of them, and nor did I really want them. I actually thought it all looked fairly gross, to be fair.

I was twelve years old when I next saw a vagina. This wasn’t in a magazine though, nor in a film. This was in real life and I was with my school friend Rupert. We were being chased down the road by his sister, Hermione (don’t be shocked by their names; their mother was called Camilla). She had a friend with her too. Apparently Hermione wanted me and her friend wanted Rupert. Anyway, we ran like the wind and down an alleyway they weren’t allowed to go down. There we waited. They waited too at the far end. Both of them had pulled their knickers down and were bending over and flashing at us. Again, I thought it was all a bit gross.

Fast forward and I am now thirteen and I was to get another glimpse of vagina. I was walking home from I-can’t-remember-where and I stumbled across some torn up porn magazines which had been tossed in the bushes. Well, I wasn’t grossed out anymore. I grabbed them all and started walking home with a funny limp.

It took me about thirty minutes to get home but, I didn’t have the pornography with me. About half way back, I panicked that I would catch AIDS from it and I threw it all into another bush.

So Happy Together

XXX

I smile at her and she laughs. She has the best laugh; one which could cheer me up even on a day filled with my blackest of moods. I wish I could get a recording of her giggle and - in times of stress - play it back at full volume. I would do anything to hear her addictive little snigger, even if it meant I was to make a fool of myself. Of course, I don’t tell her this little snippet of information. I keep it to myself and my smile broadens as I reach for my drink. As I take a sip, I realise that her laughter even managed to momentarily sway my mind from being over-charged for what is effectively watered-down piss in this pretentious club. She has almost finished her drink, I notice, but I won’t offer her another. Not at these prices.

She looks around the room with the biggest of eyes too. I call them her Bambi-eyes because they’re so wide and filled with wonder and awe at everything around her, no matter how mundane her surroundings. She could find interest in anything and, for me, that’s just something else to love about her. So many people get wrapped up in their own little worlds that they barely take the time to notice anything around them but, she sees everything and - everything is of interest. You could literally talk to her about painting walls in magnolia paint and she would look interested.

We take to the dance floor and I cannot take my eyes off her. The way she moves her body, swaying in time with the music - it’s hypnotic to me. She has the most perfect of bodies with curves in the right places and the outfits she chooses to wear are always classy and yet sexy. Some of these other women in here walk around with tits out and skirts so short they have two more cheeks to powder ahead of leaving their house. They look like cheap tramps who’d suck a dick if only for a drink. She isn’t the tallest of girls, probably about 5 foot 4 if I had to guess. She isn’t the tallest, yet she stands head and shoulders above all of the other women in here.

With the music pumping so loud, its bass practically shaking our insides, it is hard to hear what she says but she leaves the dancefloor. I guess this tune isn’t for her and I can’t say I really blame her. I don’t know what it is. It just sounds like unnecessary noise though.

Off the dance floor and we’re both laughing again and drinking our drinks. She has finished hers and a small part of me feels as though I should offer her another yet the prices still stick in my throat. I wouldn’t mind but they’re not normally this expensive. They’ve just put the prices up because it’s Valentine’s Day. It’s all a con. They charge a fee to get in, when usually it is free, they charge extra for the drinks and - on top of that - they have people going around with buckets of red roses. These sneaky bastards approach the man, in front of the woman, and ask if they want to buy a rose for their special lady. At that point, they don’t really have much of a choice because their lady is looking at them with hope. Does he like me enough to buy me a rose? Then they’re billed ten pounds. Ten pounds for a single rose? These commercialised days are such bullshit and I am thankful that - so far - we have not been approached. I wouldn’t want to say “yes” because I feel as though I am being ripped off but, at the same time, I really like her and wouldn’t hesitate to buy her a flower. I’d just sooner it was on my terms and, better yet, an impressive bouquet of them as opposed to what is on offer here. Hell, these roses will probably be dead my morning but then looking around at a lot of the couples in here tonight - I’m pretty sure they aren’t long term relationships.

She says something again and - again - her words are drowned out by the music. I just smile. Then, she gets up and starts to walk away. My smile fades. Did I miss something?

My heart skips a beat when I notice she is heading for the exit. Shit. Where’s she going? I get up from my table in the corner of the club and fight my way across the dancefloor, towards both her table and the exit she is heading for. I really wish I had heard what she’d said to her friends. For all I know she is just going to the ladies but, no, it definitely looks as though she is heading for the way out. This can only be a good thing and a pang of excitement rushes over me.

It’s cold outside. At least it isn’t raining anymore, the way it had been when I first got to the club; when I had first seen her standing in the queue with her group of girlfriends.

I see her crossing the street towards a nearby car park and presume she is heading home early because she has work in the morning, or something. Or maybe she realised what a commercialised bullshit place that was and decided to ditch her friends and head home? Or maybe she saw me watching her and figured we could talk better outside, away from that racket they call “music”? I quicken my pace so as not to lose sight of her as she turns into the dark car park. Thankfully she hasn’t seen me yet, not that I want to remain hidden forever. Just long enough to ensure we aren’t seen by anyone else.

The car park is near pitch black. There are overhead lights but, for some reason, they haven’t come on this evening. Probably the council’s way of saving money: Let people fumble around in the dark until they find their cars and then, they can just put the car-lights on to see. Of course, people could plenty hurt themselves before they managed to turn their car-lights on but, the council won’t care about that until someone tries to sue them further down the line, for probably tripping over a curb or drain-cover. Whatever. I don’t mind the darkness. If anything, it helps me out.

My quick step turned into a quiet jog as I closed the gap between me and her. The trick was to get close enough before she realised I was there so she wouldn’t have time to scream. My plan didn’t quite work out as I had envisioned it in my head and, before I reached her, she turned and screamed at the sight of me. The moment I was close enough I clamped my hand over her mouth and warned her, ‘Shut up, bitch!’ With the impact with which I slammed against her we both fell back against a car. With her pinned between me and car, I used my full strength to wrestle her to the ground. There was a car either side of us, keeping us out of view from anyone who happened to be able to see in the dark. As expected, she struggled under me as I kissed and bit her neck. Her struggles didn’t stop me and nor did they stop me from pushing my hand down the front of her pants…

‘Fuck me your hands are cold!!!! Jesus fucking Christ!’

‘What?’ I quickly pulled my hand back out again.

‘Your hands are freezing! You could have warmed them first.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘Clearly.’ She pushed me off. ‘Just forget it.’

‘I can warm them…’

‘The moment has gone.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said sheepishly. ‘This is all new to me.’

‘I would have thought warming your hands would have been fairly obvious though, don’t you?’

I sighed. ‘I didn’t hurt you when I pushed you down, did I?’

She shook her head. ‘You’re really not getting this, are you?’

‘I told you, this is all new to me. I’ve never had a woman ask me to, you know… Do this before… Look let me make it up to you. Start walking down there,’ I said as I jumped up and pointed to the far end of the car park.

She shook her head again and said, ‘I think I’m ready to go home.’

‘Really?’

She nodded. I held my hand out to help her up from the ground. She said, ‘Thank you for trying at least though.’ She kissed me on the cheek. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.’

‘You too.’

‘Let’s go home.’

Frustrated that I had ruined her rape fantasy for her, I followed her back to her car. Hopefully I’ll still get a blow-job tonight. She did promise, if I tried her fantasy first and fair is fair…

The World’s Hate

XXX

The world has always been a cruel place. Whilst there were always pockets of happiness and blissful ignorance, these pockets were never too far from underlying hatred, jealousy and unbridled rage. In recent years though the hate has come spilling from the shadows. People were more vocal with their disappointment, frustration and bitterness. The nice people shrunk back and looked to the floor, avoiding confrontation.

Today there was so much hate being spewed that words of encouragement and love had all but vanished. If you were to greet someone with a “good morning” (which in itself was a rarity), you would be greeted right back with “go fuck yourself”. If you were to try and strike up a conversation with a shop assistant, cashing up your groceries for you, they would stare blankly back. The moment your back was turned, they would call you a weirdo to their colleagues or, away from your eye-line, raise a middle finger up as though a perfectly acceptable way to say goodbye to you.

Walks in the parks across the globe were a thing of the past too. Unless you were heading there with rope in hand to swing yourself from a branch. The rope itself tied tightly around your neck. Or maybe you just fancied getting your personal belongings robbed from you as you yourself are kicked half to death; for that is another reason to go to the park.

Acts of kindness are a thing of the past. Now there are no Go Fund Me sites created to help the poor but, instead, to pay for hitmen to kill those you don’t like. To start with, such pages were closed down and members banned from creating further crowd-funders, but soon enough they turned a blind eye to them. They realised that when you shut down one, there were another six to close. Get rid of those too and more would spring up. It was a never-ending job and easier to ignore it.

Speaking of acts of kindness; people no longer helped the elderly across the road. Now they were just as quick to push them into the road. Or, if away from prying eyes and potential witnesses, they were seemingly happy to mug and sometimes rape them. Less old people are dying of old age today which, when you think about it, is a weird fact.

All of the above is before you even take into consideration the delicate relationships between allies across the world. Countries which once shared a great friendship are now strained at best, each party threatening the other with restrictions or unsavoury deals. This was before you even took into consideration their mutual enemies. With the way the world was rapidly going downhill, it would only be a matter of time before someone pressed “the” button and the nukes were launched. But then, given the way the “normal” people were making lives miserable for each other - maybe a nuke would be the answer. Wipe the world clean and, in tens of thousands of years, start again. To save any trace of humanity we need to be reset.

Yet it never used to be like this. It used to be a kinder, more friendly place. Yes, there were problems but, overall, the world seemed nicer. Certainly, in the local communities. People would help each other, people would smile at strangers and wish them good morning, afternoon and evening… And, for Derek Johnson, it only changed for him when he pulled the trigger all those years ago…

Derek Johnson was sitting on the edge of his bed. He had his old service pistol, loaded, in his lap. It had recently been cleaned, inadvertently, with his own tears. He blamed himself for the state of the world and had done so for the previous five years, from when he was a member of the armed response unit of the police department. That day. That last day when he had gone to the park after a frantic call about a mad man stalking the fields and paths. Derek could remember it so clearly. He could recall the sounds of the park. Birds singing, people playing unaware of the danger they were in, traffic nearby, a car horn in the distance and then, when he was closer to the source of the reported disturbance, that giggling. It sounded inhuman in its pitch. Derek remembered stopping in his tracks when he caught sight of the origin of the sound. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t have been. A three-foot tall infant child with the cherubic appearance of a baby. Wings on its back. Naked but for a diaper closed with a golden pin. Blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes. It giggled again when it saw Derek and raised a bow and arrow towards him. That was when Derek had quick-fired and put a bullet straight between its eyes, dropping it dead in an instant. Derek remembered that moment like it was yesterday. The day had darkened. Clouds came from nowhere and hung heavy and full in the air. The rains came and stayed for days and everyone’s mood seemed to blacken too.

Derek knew he had changed the world that day and - for years - it had eaten him alive. Well, it would eat him no more. He put the gun to his temple and smiled at the hooded black figure standing a few feet from him. Its skeletal face barely visible under its dark hood. Its crystal blue eyes fixed firmly on Derek. Slowly, it nodded at him and - with that - Derek pulled the trigger.

The Gift

XXX

Amber Jarvis nervously paced her living room as she waited for her husband to come home. It was a little after six and she knew he’d be home at any minute. With nervous butterflies fluttering around in her belly, she couldn’t stand still as her mind raced with excitement.

For as long as she could remember now, their marriage had been - at best - strained. The truth of the matter was, they were more like brother and sister now. They rarely went to bed together and when they did, they rarely woke up together. They wouldn’t kiss each other good morning, or good evening when they met up again after finishing their respective jobs. Some evenings they would hardly say more than two words to one another, especially when her husband got home and immediately started working on the house. Over the years, they had simply grown apart and neither seemed keen to try and salvage anything. At least, that was what Amber had believed.

Fred’s car pulled up onto their sloped driveway and - a moment after the engine stopped - her husband climbed out. She watched him intently through the living room window and noticed immediately that he looked stressed. No doubt he’d endured a tough day in the office, she thought. Amber hurried from the living room and into the hallway where she waited for her husband to open the front door. Her heart was racing. The door opened and he stepped in only for her to dash forward and throw her arms around him. It was a move which took him by surprise and almost knocked him off his feet. As she gripped him tightly, he went with the flow and put his arms around her too. This was all very unexpected but, it wasn’t unbearable. Especially as a normal greeting would be a shout “hello” from whatever room the other person was in.

‘Can we talk?’

Fred said, ‘Mind if I get in first?’

‘I’m sorry.’

Amber released her grip and backed off. Fred eyed her suspiciously as he took his coat off and hung it over the bannister, despite the fact there was a perfect peg for it a few feet away on the wall. He always hung it on the bannister, and it always annoyed her but, she wouldn’t say anything. Not today.

Still suspicious, he asked, ‘Did you have a good day?’

‘Thanks to you,’ she said.

‘To me?’

Amber smiled sweetly at him which only caused his suspicion to rise further. She couldn’t wait any longer and said, ‘Please, can we talk?’

Fred knew he wouldn’t have any option but to hear whatever was on her mind so, reluctantly, he agreed. ‘Sure.’ It had been a long day and all he wanted to do was have his tea and get back to working in the basement.

Amber led the way through to the living room. She didn’t sit but gestured to Fred’s favourite armchair, ‘Sit down,’ she said.

Not looking for an argument, he sat. Truth be told it was nice just to take the weight off his feet. There was a small part of him which wondered whether he needed to keep his eyes open for this chat. But then, it would look rude if he closed them. With the way he was feeling, even if he had shut them, he’d have probably started snoring mid-whatever-her-speech-was.

‘I know things haven’t been brilliant between us…’

Fred’s ears pricked up. Had it not been for the “enthusiastic” look upon her face, he would have instantly felt as though he were heading for a fight with such an opening. The look on her face gave mixed signals though so, he waited for her to finish saying whatever was on her mind before he reacted.

‘And that’s neither of our faults directly. We both played a role in our growing apart but I just want you to know that I do love you…’

‘Oh?’

‘I do love you and…’ She stopped talking and hesitated a moment. He looked at her, confused about what the hell was going on.

‘What is it? You’re starting to freak me out.’ Again, had it not been for how happy she appeared he would have thought there was something seriously wrong. Like maybe she was going to tell him she wanted a divorce, or that she had cancer or some other terminal disease.

Amber blurted out, ‘I found it.’

‘I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about…’

‘I wasn’t snooping or anything, just so you know. I was just picking some bits up and I found it in the closet.’ She went to the other side of the room and picked up a parcel from behind the sofa. Fred immediately recognised it as the gift set he had purchased from the jewellery store in town. It was a crystal heart with a mirror base to really reflect the light. It wasn’t much but something he thought was pretty and that would be appreciated.

Amber continued, ‘And the words in the card…’ She held the Valentine’s day card up as she pulled it from the small bag which both card and heart’s box had come in. ‘Honestly, I read them, and I cried.’

Fred smiled. He had taken a fair amount of time to choose the right words to write in the card, so it was nice to see a positive reaction from them.

‘I honestly had no idea you still felt that way about me and I feel terrible because,’ she hesitated a moment, ‘I didn’t get you anything.’

‘It’s fine,’ Fred said.

‘No, it’s not! You went to all this trouble for me and I didn’t even get you a card. It isn’t right but,’ she smiled at him, ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

‘Honestly, it’s…’ He was about to say it was fine, for a second time, when she set the card and bag down and dropped to her knees in front of him. ‘What are you doing?’

She grinned at him as she started to fumble with his belt. She told him, ‘I’m making it up to you.’

Fred laughed as his belt came undone and she started pulling open his trousers. ‘Well, I mean you don’t have to but… Oh okay then.’ He was only semi-erect by the time she freed his manhood but, in her mouth, it didn’t take long for him to fully stiffen. It had been a hell of a day but, things were starting to look up for the evening at least. He relaxed his body and closed his eyes as she started bobbing her head up and down in his lap. It had been way too long.

Amber stopped sucking him momentarily and, as she continued stroking him, she said, ‘And after this I’m ordering us a Chinese meal.’

He sighed. ‘Sounds good to me.’

She giggled like a naughty school child. ‘See, I told you I would make it up to you.’ Before he had a chance for a comeback, she sunk her mouth back over his cock and swallowed it down to the back of her throat. He smiled to himself and just went with the flow. If she wanted to make amends, then who was he to argue with her? He’d forgotten how good she was at this too.

She paused a moment to say, ‘I’m on my period so don’t hold back, okay? Just cum in my mouth.’

The mention of her period wasn’t the sexiest thought to have put in his mind at this particular moment but the permission to ejaculate in her mouth? Back when they used to have regular intimacy, all those years ago, this was something strictly reserved for special occasions, much like anal. But then, it was Valentine’s Day so… Amber continued to suck his cock.

*

For the rest of the evening, Fred didn’t have to move from his preferred armchair. Amber had swallowed his semen and fetched a towel for him, so that he could wipe himself dry, and she’d even grabbed him a whiskey from the cabinet. He had control of the television, Amber paid for the Chinese meal, she made him whatever drink he wanted at the close of the evening (usually tea) and they sat - together - in a blissful silence. For once they actually enjoyed being around one another. It really was like when they had first got together.

Regular as clockwork, at ten o’clock, she turned to him and said, ‘I’m going to go on up to bed. Are you coming up with me tonight?’

Fred shook his head. ‘I’m just not tired at the moment,’ he said. ‘I’ll finish my program and then I’ll be right up.’

‘Okay,’ she said. Amber almost sounded disappointed. She actually was too. For once she wanted to snuggle in close to her husband and just remind herself what that was like. All these years of not really talking, she was used to going to bed alone and cuddling into a pillow, pretending it was the body of someone who actually wanted her. Still, she knew there was no sense asking him to come up with her, not if he wasn’t tired yet. He would only toss and turn which would then keep her up.

Amber got up from her seat and walked over to Fred. She leaned down to him and kissed him on the lips. This was a change to the new “norm” too. Usually, she would just go to bed without so much of a word. Not tonight though. ‘Again, thank you for my card and present.’ She added, ‘I love them.’

He smiled at her. ‘You’re very welcome. I’m glad you liked them.’ He cheekily added, ‘And thank you for my blow job.’

Amber giggled out of embarrassment. In the mood, she could say (and hear) anything but, in passing, she was easy to offend with such words. She walked to where she’d put her gifts down and picked them up. She put the card on the mantlepiece and - still smiling - she walked from the room with a, ‘Goodnight.’

Fred smiled too. ‘Goodnight, baby.’

As Amber made her way up the stairs, Fred’s smile faded from his tired face.

‘Shit,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Shit, shit, shit…’

*

Fred never went to the basement as soon as Amber took herself to bed. He needed to be sure she was asleep first. Once asleep, he knew she wouldn’t wake up until her alarm went off in the morning. Except for Amber’s alarm, nothing ever woke her up. They could drop a bomb and she’d snooze right through.

Fred was standing at the foot of the stairs. He was listening to noises coming from upstairs; their bedroom. He could hear his wife snoring. It was never loud, just deep and heavy breathing with the occasional snort. Satisfied she was asleep he walked down the hallway towards the door at the far end. Beyond that was a flight of wooden stairs which led down to the basement: His room.

Fred opened the door and stepped into the basement. He quietly stepped in and - using a bolt at the top of the door frame - he locked himself in. He walked down the wooden steps. Each one creaked under his weight, not that he was a big man. It was more a reflection on the stairs themselves than him. At the foot of the stairs, Fred paused a moment before he turned towards one of the bare walls. He smiled and approached it with a previously unseen skip in his step. Halfway across the room and a hidden door started to open in the corner. The moment it was fully open, a blonde in her mid-twenties came running out. She immediately threw her arms around Fred.

‘Happy Valentine’s, baby! I’ve missed you!’

Fred hushed her, ‘Be quiet! You know the rules…’

‘What? She’s asleep, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, but that doesn’t matter. She might wake up.’

Fred walked with the woman, Jennie, back through to the secret room. The moment the door closed behind him, she turned and embraced her man once again. ‘I hate it when you go upstairs.’ She added, ‘Did she have a day off today? I tried to go out but could hear her moving around up there and…’ She hesitated. ‘I didn’t have time to get you a present, I’m sorry.’

‘A present?’

‘For Valentine’s Day.’

‘Yes. Right. About that.’

Jennie looked playfully shocked. ‘You didn’t get anything for me? Did they not advertise it enough for you to remember?’

‘I’ll have you know, I got you a gift two weeks ago but…’ He was almost afraid to admit the truth. ‘That bitch found it and…’

‘Oh my God. She thought it was for her?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘What did you get me?’

‘A crystal heart and a card.’

‘I’d sooner get your divorce papers. I’m fed up living down here, sneaking out only when she isn’t around. I keep thinking she is going to find me down here.’

‘It’s fine. She doesn’t even know about this room…’ Fred had built a mini-open-planned apartment under his house. A secret project he had been building for over a year now. Whenever Amber went out, he would be down here beavering away with Jennie’s help. Their perfect little love-nest. He had no intention of divorcing Amber. Not whilst Jennie was happy enough down here and, so far, she wasn’t arguing too much about the living arrangement. Just the occasional moan which he would always make her forget with a little “tongue work”. ‘Anyway, there’s something else I got for you,’ he said.

‘Something else? What’s that?’

Fred grinned from ear to ear and dropped to his knees. Amber laughed. She knew what he was doing. She put her left leg over his shoulder and pulled his head towards her. ‘I like the way your mind thinks,’ she said.

On the top floor of the house, Amber had woken up. She sighed as she patiently waited for her husband to come up. It was Valentine’s Day and she was feeling horny from having him in her mouth earlier. She might be on her period but, he could still have the arse. After the gift he bought and the loving words in the card, she guessed she still owed him.

From the comfort of her bed, she called out, ‘You coming soon?’

Eating Out

XXX

Alexandra Shinhearl grabbed Mike’s bare buttocks as she took his erect penis in her mouth. She worked his shaft with her wet tongue as he sighed in ecstasy and then, she stopped.

‘What the hell?’

She laughed as she got up from her knees and playfully slapped his backside. ‘Get ready. We’re going to be late.’

‘What, you’re just going to leave me like this?’ He was standing there with his work trousers and shorts around his ankles. His shirt was unbuttoned. His erection was standing tall and proud, still wet with her saliva. ‘You can’t leave me like this!’

‘We’re going to be late. It’s not my fault you booked the restaurant so early.’

Mike shook his head. ‘That’s a bitch move right there,’ he muttered as he kicked his lower garments off before grabbing a fresh pair of shorts from the drawer by the bed.

Alexandra slid her dress on over her matching lingerie and warned Mike, ‘And talking to me like that is a sure way of making me not want to finish what I started later on.’ She stepped closer to him and turned her back on him before demanding, ‘Zip me up.’

Mike bit his tongue as he fumbled with the zipper on Alexandra’s dress. A little faffing around and he did the zip up for her. ‘Done.’ He told her, ‘Anyway I got the only time available.’

‘Valentine’s Day? You shouldn’t have left it so late to book somewhere!’ Alexandra stepped away from Mike and turned to face him. ‘Anyway I like the idea of you being all turned on while we’re out. It’s sexy to know how hot you are.’ Mike saw the expression change on her face as though she had a real lightbulb moment. ‘In fact…’ She pulled her dress up just enough so that she could get underneath it to remove her red panties. With a wicked giggle she threw them at Mike who instinctively caught them. ‘Something for you to think about while you’re sitting opposite me,’ she said. ‘No panties.’

‘Oh fuck.’ He gave them a quick sniff and let out a sigh before he tossed them onto the bed. He said, ‘You know, we don’t have to go out. I could phone them up and cancel the table. I’m sure they’ll be cool with it.’

Alexandra raised her eyebrows, shocked at his suggestion. ‘So wait a minute, you book a table to take me to the new restaurant in town and then, because you want sex, you then cancel my night out?’

‘Come on, baby, I know you want me too!’

‘I also want to eat. I’m starving! Not to mention the fact that I have been looking forward to our date night for a couple of weeks now…’ She walked over to him and grabbed his erection with a strong grip which made him flinch. She gave his prick a couple of short, sharp tugs as she warned him, ‘So you had better take me out and make sure I have a really nice evening. And, if you do, I will see to it that you have a really nice night…’ Before he had a chance to say anything, she bent down and gave his hard-on a kiss. But just a kiss. She stood up straight and gave it a little flick. ‘Now, I’ll be waiting downstairs. Don’t be long.’ With that, she turned away from him.

‘Oh come on! This isn’t fair!’ Mike protested but it was too late, she was already on her way out of the bedroom. He stood there a moment, hand on dick, as part of him hoped that she would be coming back at any minute now. No such luck as he heard her walking down the stairs.

She called up, ‘And don’t touch yourself! I’ll know!’ Mike sighed.

*

Mike fidgeted in his seat as he drove the pair to the Japanese restaurant across town. Alexandra couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious discomfort.

‘Something wrong?’ Alexandra teased.

‘I’m sure it wouldn’t have made us that much later if you had given me a quick hand- job back at the house,’ Mike moaned.

Alexandra laughed. ‘Oh I see. So long as you’re okay, huh? Anyway, I’m sure you would rather make a night of it. And it’s not like we will be at the restaurant too long.’

‘We won’t be?’

‘Not if we skip dessert.’ She reached over from the passenger seat and rubbed his crotch. ‘There’s some whipped cream in the fridge… We can make our own dessert back home…’ The moment she finished her sentence, she immediately stopped rubbing his crotch.

‘You are fucking killing me,’ Mike sighed. ‘What’s with the teasing? What did I do to deserve this?’

With a wicked smile, Alexandra laughed. ‘Nothing but it’s fun.’

‘I hate you sometimes.’

‘Just sometimes?’ She reached down to his bulge again. ‘And the other times?’ Mike sighed again at her touch. ‘The other times, you’re pretty fucking amazing…’ Alexandra giggled and released his cock again. ‘Goddamn it!’

Alexandra was making Mike wait for his pleasure because he had cancelled their last date due to work commitments. She had been looking forward to going to this particular restaurant for a while now and had been seriously disappointed when their date got pushed back, not that she hadn’t understood the reason. It was just one of those things. Even so, he made her wait, so it was only right that she made him wait.

‘Bet you wish you hadn’t cancelled our last date now, huh?’ Alexandra hinted her reasonings to her teasing behaviour.

‘Oh is this payback?’

She grinned. ‘Something like that.’

The restaurant had opened about a month ago and all the reviews spoke highly of it. It was Japanese-themed, something Mike wasn’t overly keen on, but where the chef actually cooked the food at your table. Neither Alexandra nor Mike had ever gone to one of those restaurants before so it was completely new to both.

‘Okay if you’re in a hurry then,’ Mike said, ‘how’s about I swing by Burger King and go through the drive through?’

‘Tempting. Probably won’t be as good as the other restaurant though, right?’

‘But we would be home quicker and could make the most of a special dessert,’ Mike chanced his luck with a wink.

‘Well as it’s not the full date I was expecting I think I would have to tailor what’s on offer back home. You know, to keep it even.’

‘Oh?’

‘On the one hand we have a fine restaurant waiting for us where we can experience new foods and on the other hand we have a cheap burger,’ Alexandra explained. Mike couldn’t help but think the cheap burger sounded a better option anyway. Japanese food wasn’t really his thing and - in truth - he didn’t really know what he was letting himself in for. He just figured it would be raw fish. Or that fish where if you eat the wrong part, you’re dead soon after. A cheap burger, with fries and maybe a shake, was definitely more appealing. Alexandra continued, ‘So we need to make our bedroom activities the same kind of experience.’

‘You’ve lost me.’

‘The restaurant is a posh treat so I guess the equivalent, in the bedroom, would be - oh I don’t know - anal…’ Mike’s eyes widened. ‘Before that you get the rest of course. You know… blow job, a little tie and tease, maybe some ice-cubes… All the things you like…’

Mike swallowed hard. ‘And if we grabbed a burger and just went home now?’

Alexandra laughed. ‘I’d wank you off with a cheese-grater.’

Mike’s face dropped. ‘So… Sat-Nav says we’re almost at the restaurant.’

‘Good, good. I’m quite hungry,’ Alexandra said.

Mike cast her a quick glance. ‘Really going to let me have your arse?’ He was grinning from ear to ear.

Alexandra laughed. ‘I never said which of us would be the one to take it.’ Mike’s smile dropped. He shrugged.

‘Could be fun.’

Alexandra laughed again as Mike turned the final corner ahead of the restaurant. The Sat-Nav system gave him warning that the restaurant was coming up on the right-hand side.

Mike quickly added, ‘But if the food is crap, I still brought you here so… You have to uphold your end of the bargain.’

‘Of course.’ She teased him, ‘If that’s the case I might just let you stick it in me while I’m asleep.’ She smiled at him as he laughed. He hoped she was joking.

*

The restaurant was as plush as the pictures online suggested. Everything looked brand new and shiny, not to forget spotlessly clean. It was also full of patrons.

Alexandra and Mike were greeted at the door by one of the staff members. A pleasant little Japanese lady who looked to be in her late fifties. With a smile on her face, she offered to take their coats and then showed them to their table in the far corner of the restaurant.

When they sat, Alexandra noticed the lack of grill close to their table. ‘How are we supposed to have the chef cook for us with no grill?’

Mike wasn’t paying any attention. He was busy looking around the restaurant.

More specifically he was looking at the patrons. ‘Huh? What?’

Alexandra rolled her eyes. She was used to having to repeat herself over and over, such was Mike’s attention span. ‘I said how are we supposed to have the chef cook for us if we don’t have a grill at our table?’

Mike looked around the immediate area and, true enough, there was no grill station even remotely close.

Alexandra asked, ‘Do you think they have made a mistake with the booking? Maybe booked too many people in at once? To save letting us down, they could have put a new table down here? Tucked out of the way but we still get to eat the food?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s hardly the experience the website bragged about.’

Mike pointed out to everyone else in the room and said, ‘I don’t think we would have seen any chef cooking for us no matter where we were sitting to be fair.’

Alexandra looked around the room. No one was eating. Nor were there any chef’s standing close to the grills, preparing any foods to cook.

‘Well that’s just weird,’ she said. ‘Maybe they all come out and start at the same time? That’s why bookings are done in blocks. The chefs cook at the same speed so surely everyone is eating at the same time? It would make sense. Especially as it means they know exactly when the tables are going to be free to let more people in.’

‘That’s just stupid. What if someone wants to stay on for more drinks?’

Alexandra had already thought about that. ‘They are moved to the bar area.’ She looked around but couldn’t see such an area. There were a few doors leading off to different areas though so maybe the bar was through one of those? It would have made sense as, keeping the bar area separate would also mean the restaurant was always quieter. Nothing worse than trying to enjoy a meal just to have some noisy people ruining it from across the bar.

Mike said, ‘Well so far, I’ll be honest, I’m not impressed.’ He continued to look around. ‘Is anyone even going to come over and take our drinks order?’

‘Well we have only just got here. They’ll be here soon, I’m sure.’

Mike glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve been here five minutes already. In most places we go, they at least say hello and let us know someone will be over soon. Here,  we’ve just been dumped.’

Alexandra laughed. ‘Isn’t that what always happens?’ It was true, they could go to any restaurant and somehow get ignored, despite being as polite as they possibly could be to the person serving them. The worst tended to be when they asked for the bill though. The server would nod their head and then just disappear for what would seem like an eternity. On some occasions, Mike would even have to ask a second person for the bill. Now they’d been shoved in a corner and, Mike thought, forgotten about? This was just their typical luck.

‘They’ll be here soon,’ Alexandra said patiently. She knew what Mike could get like when he was frustrated. He would start off polite enough and smile to anyone and everyone, but the smile would be quick to fade and his manners would disappear soon after. ‘Anyway we’re not in a hurry?’

Mike shot her a look. ‘You blue-balled me… I’m in a hurry,’ he said half-joking and half-serious. He looked over his shoulder again. ‘I’m going to go and find someone. Ask them why we’ve been thrown in the corner.’

‘They’ll be here…’

It was too late. Mike was already walking away from the table with a look of determination on his face. Alexandra laughed to herself when she noticed he was also walking with a slight limp. A thought flashed through her mind and she couldn’t help but to laugh once more. Imagine his face if she got him and tied him up and then just left him there for a while! Go downstairs and have a cup of tea, leaving him there struggling against his restraints. She wouldn’t be that cruel. Although it was tempting. Alexandra looked around the restaurant to see what Mike was doing but she couldn’t see him anymore. She frowned. The little lady was still standing by the front door, waiting to greet more people. It would have made sense to go to her, seeing as it was her who had seated them in the first place. Oh God, the thought raced through her mind, he’s probably gone through looking for the manager. Of course, he would have to speak to the manager. He always said there was little point in talking to the monkey. “You always go straight to the organ grinder” was something he would often say. Alexandra felt her face flush at the thought of him laying into the manager with a verbal assault. Hopefully he’d at least be polite about it and there wouldn’t be the prospect of the staff taking it in turns spitting into their food.

A door close behind Alexandra opened up and a chef walked out. He stood close to Alexandra’s back and folded his arms. She turned and looked at him. When she smiled, she expected the same back, but he just stood there with a stony-faced expression. It then dawned on her that there was probably a portable grill that they were going to bring out to cook upon. A bit like when other restaurants would wheel out a special trolley on which to cook crepes.

With the man just standing there, saying nothing, Alexandra couldn’t help but start to feel a little uncomfortable. To break the silence, she said, ‘I think my boyfriend has just gone to try and find someone…’

The man said nothing. But it wasn’t just him who was silent. Alexandra looked around the restaurant to the other guests. No one was saying anything. More alarmingly, they were all staring directly at her. She frowned and, to avoid confrontation, she picked up the menu and started to flick through it hoping that, when she looked back up again, they wouldn’t be staring at her anymore. She glanced up. They were still looking.

The little woman by the door turned to the room and shouted, ‘Who is ready to eat?’ The restaurant exploded with cheers as she then turned and locked the front door. Alexandra just sat there watching the room’s reaction. Feeling like she was supposed to, she even found herself give a little cheer too. She glanced at the chef standing close to her. He was still staring directly at her with a stern look on his face.

To try and break the ice, she said, ‘We’ve been looking forward to this for a while now.’ He said nothing, nor did his facial expressions move.

Across the room a set of double doors swung open and the room erupted into applause and cheers as a trolley was pushed into the room. The moment she saw the trolley, Alexandra screamed. On the trolley, bound with chains, Mike was struggling and crying. He had been stripped of his clothes and his face showed clear signs of the beating he’d received, with a split lip, bloody nose and already blackened eye.

Alexandra went to get out of her chair but the chef behind her pushed down heavily on her shoulders. She didn’t struggle against him as she knew there was little point in doing so. Tears streamed down her face as the trolley was pushed around to the different grill areas. When it stopped at the first one, a man in a black apron pulled a cleaver from a utensil belt around his waist. He yelled something in Japanese and, with the people cheering and Mike screaming, he swung the cleaver down on the top of Mike’s bare arm.

The moment the sharpened blade hit Mike’s arm, his scream changed in pitch. The chef raised the cleaver again and repeated the process until he was able to pull the arm free from Mike’s body. The arm was then tossed to that grill station’s chef. The waiting chef caught it and immediately placed it on the grill where the flesh started to sizzle.

Alexandra continued crying as she shouted, ‘Stop! Please stop!’ Mike was still screaming as he was pushed to the second grill station with blood pumping from his wound.

The process was repeated. The cleaver was raised into the air and brought down hard upon Mike’s other arm. Three chops and it was pulled free from the body, much to the audience’s delight. Again, the dismembered limb was tossed over to that station’s chef. The smell of cooking flesh and burning arm hairs filled the room and whilst most seemed to savour the scent, Alexandra gagged.

‘Why are you doing this?’ She screamed over and over again but no one would answer her. The man behind her kept his weight pushed down hard upon her so that she couldn’t run or try and ruin the feast.

Mike was at the third station and barely conscious as the first of his legs was cut away from his spasming body. Shock was setting in as the blood continued to flow freely from the fleshy wounds.

Leg on the grill. Sizzling sounds. Burnt hair. Cooked meat. Restaurant patrons cheering. Alexandra screaming. The little lady by the door clapping. Trolley wheels squeaking. Chefs sharpening their knives. Patrons licking lips. Alexandra screaming. Meat slithers dropped onto plates. Wet splatter noises. People chewing. Alexandra screaming. Mike unconscious. “Mmmmm”. “Tasty”. “This is amazing.” Cleaver cutting through bone. People laughing. Chatting. Whispering. Drinks being ordered. Alexandra screaming.

The trolley was pushed past her. All that remained on it was a torso. Everything else was dotted around the restaurant on the various grill stations. Mike’s head was spared from being cooked and had been placed on a centre-piece in the middle of the restaurant.

Alexandra threw up.

The man holding her in place leaned down and whispered, ‘I hope you get all that out of your system before dessert.’

Red Wine

XXX

He smiled at her. Holly looked beautiful, sitting there opposite him in their favourite restaurant. The place they had enjoyed their first date and even shared their first kiss. She frowned at the sudden smile and immediately covered her mouth.

‘What? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?’

He smiled and reassured her, ‘No. No,’ he said again with a laugh. She was paranoid about getting things wedged between her teeth ever since it had happened on their first date. They were talking, everything was going nicely and then she had smiled. There it was, stuck between her front teeth; a little piece of spinach. She’d been mortified when he subtly pointed it out and had headed for the bathroom to get it out, along with anything else that might have been stuck between her other teeth.

He told her, ‘Just smiling at you. Is that a crime?’

‘Well, no but usually people smile for a reason.’

He said, ‘Just happy you’re with me. Happy we’re together and wondering how I got so lucky.’ He smiled again.

‘I think you might have had a bit too much wine,’ she nodded towards the near empty glass on the table.

‘You’re beautiful now, even though I am slightly tipsy, and you will be beautiful in the morning when I am, no doubt, hungover. You will be beautiful forever.’

Holly blushed. He knew she didn’t like too many compliments. She just had a hard time accepting them and found herself questioning whether the person giving them really meant them. It was weird but, with her up-bringing and her over-bearing mother constantly telling her she would never be good enough, she had low self-esteem ingrained into her. Although, over the years they had been together now, he had slowly been chipping away at her own negative thoughts. When he said she was beautiful, she had a hard time hearing it, but she didn’t doubt him.

He poured himself another glass of red wine from the bottle, close to the edge of the table. Before he set the bottle down again, he asked, ‘Did you want one?’

She hadn’t touched the glass he’d already poured for her, not that he was surprised. She liked the taste of decent red wines but - without having to drink that much - they had a habit of staining her teeth a dark red black colour and that wasn’t a good look. Especially when out and about.

Unsurprisingly she said, ‘I’m good.’

He set the bottle down before taking a sip from his glass. He started to look around. The restaurant hadn’t changed much over the years. The hanging pictures were the same pictures that had been there on their first date. The table decor had remained the same over the years with a fresh, white sheet covering each table, a candle in the centre and comfortable seats. The walls had had a lick of paint, once or twice and staff had come and gone but - really - it was the same place now as it had been when they first met here.

She was watching him closely as he looked around, ‘What’s up?’

He snapped back to reality and turned his attention back to her. ‘Nothing.’

‘Where’d you go?’

‘Was just thinking how this place hasn’t really changed over the years.’

She looked around and agreed, ‘No, it hasn’t has it?’

‘Do you remember the first time we came? I was waiting outside for you to arrive so you wouldn’t have to come in, looking for me and looking lost in the process.’

She laughed. ‘I remember…’

‘How badly it was raining.’

‘You were drenched.’

‘Great first impressions. I looked like a drowned rat.’

She laughed again. ‘You did.’ She said, ‘I did tell you that you could have gone in and I would have found you.’

‘I wanted to save you some embarrassment.’

‘You could have gone to our table and the waiter could have brought me over.’

‘True but, I wanted to go to it together.’

‘Well, it was very sweet of you to wait.’

‘I think you even said I looked like a drowned rat when you did finally show up.’

She laughed. ‘I did.’

‘What an opening. Sure did help with my nerves…’

‘I did say I was joking.’

‘I’ll be honest, I’m surprised you agreed to a second date.’

‘You were? Why?’

‘As you said, I looked like a drowned rat when you finally got there. All the effort I had made to look good for you and - yeah… Kind of went out the window.’

‘If you had taken a “going out selfie” before you left your house, you could have shown me what you should have looked like.’

He laughed. ‘I do remember finding you on Instagram that night, after the date.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep.’

‘You never said before?’

‘I found that picture of you. The “going out selfie”, as you call it.’

Holly’s face blushed.

‘I think I actually saved the picture.’

‘You did?’

‘I told you, you looked beautiful.’

‘I can’t believe you never told me.’

‘Bit weird, isn’t it? Rock up on a second date and admit to cyber stalking you…’

‘And saving the picture.’

‘And saving the picture. I can see it now; you would have run for the hills.’

She paused a moment. ‘Not sure how I would have reacted.’

‘You didn’t stalk me?’

She pulled a face. ‘I didn’t.’

‘Are you lying?’

‘Maybe.’

He laughed. ‘So, we both stalked each other.’

‘I had a reason.’

‘You did?’

‘Wanted to see what you looked like with dry hair.’

He laughed again. ‘Well, you came for a second date so I guess you liked what you saw.’

‘I mean, it was okay… I liked your personality.’

‘Ah. That was it, huh?’

‘You just wanted to see me again because of how I looked?’

‘No. I wanted to see you again because of the whole package.’

She smiled. Her cheeks flushed once more. ‘Good answer.’

‘Thank you. I’ve been practising it for a while now.’

‘Standing in front of the mirror.?’

He nodded. ‘Standing in front of the mirror.’

‘I can see it. Although is it bad that I’m picturing Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver now?’

‘Not at all. That is exactly how I looked when I practised the line.’

She smiled and after a pause she said, ‘I love you.’

Silence.

Slowly he smiled too and told her what she wanted to hear, ‘I love you too.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘You ever going to marry me?’

His smile faded. ‘You know it.’

‘Just like keeping me waiting, huh?’

‘That’s not it.’

‘Oh?’

‘Not it at all.’

She pushed him for more, ‘So what is it?’

Silence. He took his glass of wine and had another sip. A second later and he finished the glass with a large gulp. She watched and said nothing as he poured himself another.

‘Are you okay?’

He lied, ‘I’m good.’

‘I didn’t mean to start anything.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Well clearly it’s not…’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I…’ She stopped talking, unsure what else she could, or even should, say.

To change the subject he asked her, ‘Did you need a top up?’ He gestured towards her untouched glass of wine. She shook her head and put her hand over the rim of her glass on the off chance he tried pouring without an answer from her. She watched as he took his own glass in hand and downed it in one.

‘You should go easy,’ she said, genuinely concerned.

‘I should?’ He laughed. ‘Does it really make a difference?’

After a slight pause, she told him, ‘We don’t have to do this.’

‘Yes, we do.’

‘We could do it another time? We could think about it?’

‘It’s all I have thought about now for as long as I can remember.’

‘Because I never asked…’

‘It’s my idea. It’s my choice. It’s nothing to do with you.’

‘Okay because…’

‘And that’s the end of it.’

‘Okay.’

There was another break in conversation as they both sat there, looking at each other. Slowly, he smiled at her.

‘I missed you.’

She said it back, ‘I miss you too.’ Then, she asked, ‘Ready?’

He nodded.

Holly slid a small bottle across the table, towards him. He said nothing. He just looked at it as tears started to collect, not just in his eyes but her eyes too.

She said again, ‘Like I said, you don’t have to…’

Before she could finish the sentence, he picked the bottle up and pushed the child-proof cap down before he twisted it off. By the time the lid dropped to the table, he was no longer sitting in the restaurant. She was no longer sitting opposite him. He was at home, where he had always been. He was alone, just as he had been since her passing.

Without a word, he started to feed the pills into his mouth - one at a time. He didn’t swallow them all down though. Not yet. First, he wanted to get as many in his mouth as he could and then, when he’d done that - he would chase them down with the glass of wine he’d poured for her.

With a mouthful, he set the pill bottle down and took a hold of her wine glass. He smiled as he heard her kind, gentle voice once more, ‘I’ll see you when you wake up,’ she said.

‘You will,’ he said.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

As he waited for the pills to take effect, he looked down to the table. There was no plate of half-eaten food before him. There was no cutlery. There was just the “program” from her funeral and - on that - his favourite picture of her looking right back at him.

A tear rolled from his cheek and landed on the program, instantly soaking into the white sheet.

Noise

XXX

All his life he had been sensitive to noise. It could be people chattering amongst themselves, people whispering in cinema screenings, eating noisily in a restaurant or even in his own home on the rare occasions he had brought someone round for a meal. His temper could flare at the sound of rustling packets and wrappers. His anger could even be triggered by the way someone breathed.

‘It’s a bowl, you eat from it. You don’t play the drums with it,’ he once said to someone who repeatedly dinked their spoon against the ceramic bowl.

Another time he said, ‘You want to leave some of the pattern on the fucking plate?’ That was aimed at a date who, in a restaurant, continually scraped her knife and fork against the plate as she tucked into a meal he was paying for.

Then there was the time he watched an ex-partner tie her sweet wrapper in a tidy little knot and he calmly informed her, ‘It’s weird watching you tie a knot in that.’

‘It is?’

‘Makes me think about doing the same thing to a piece of rope around your neck.’

‘What?!’

And then he would go into a spiel about how it pissed him off and how he believed there was no need to tie knots into wrappers.

She turned back and said, ‘It’s neater.’

‘Yeah? You know what else is neater?’

‘No.’

‘Putting it straight in the fucking bin.’

It wasn’t soon after that conversation that they broke up. Surprisingly enough, she had left him as she went off and met someone else who was, speaking frankly, less of a dick.

Years passed and he learned nothing, nor changed until, that is, he met a woman who he believed to be his soul mate. Not only did she look perfect with her long dark hair and green eyes and shapely hourglass figure but, she had the softest of voices too. No matter how mad his mood was on a certain day, she would be able to calm it with just a few words. Then, of course, there was the fact they had so much in common. They both liked fine dining, they both enjoyed hikes and camping, swimming, exploring, comedy shows and neither of them were particularly fond of alcohol. The latter, they both believed, always brought out the worst in people so why have it in the house? A healthier option would be a coffee, one of the fancy brands, or juice - both drinks they mutually enjoyed. She was the perfect woman.

Was.

More years passed and things which had once charmed him and made him smile soon started to grate. Not long after that, when the cracks first began to show, more splinters appeared in their relationship and - soon enough - all the little things would be there, annoying him once more.

‘Can you go and blow your noise?’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s whistling.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘What?’

‘Did you not hear your own gulp then when you swallowed your water? Sounded like a fucking frog!’

‘Do you think you could click your nails if I bent your fingers right back?’

‘Wow. That’s a bit harsh!’

Every day there would be something that she did which would wind him up and often he would find himself looking at her, wondering how life would be if she wasn’t there. More peaceful, that’s for sure. But then he would sit there and wonder if he would find himself getting lonely without her. This was, after all, his soul mate. He had said it on many an occasion and not just to her, in a desperate attempt to get in her pants but, even to his friends he had described her in such a manner. If she wasn’t here, would he find someone else? Would he want to? Would he stay forever single and sit in the silence of his home? He could see himself, years from now, as a withered, lonely old man straining in the silence to hear a noise with which he could make himself outraged. But then, maybe years of perfect silence would be worth that “torture” at the end of his life?

‘What’s wrong?’ She caught him looking at her as she tried to read her book on the settee.

He smiled. ‘Nothing.’

She didn’t need to know his thoughts. She would only get upset and then that would escalate into a full-blown argument. It just wasn’t worth it, especially as - really - the problem was his.

‘Am I turning my pages too loudly?’

‘No. No. All good.’

‘Did you want to do something together?’

‘No. You can read your book. I was just lost in thought.’

‘Happy ones I hope.’

He smiled again. When she realised he had nothing more to say, she looked back to her book and started to read once again. He leaned back against the settee, put his head back and closed his eyes.

That was when it started.

First, he heard her breathing. There was a faint, ever so faint, whistle from her nose as though one nostril had an obstruction. Occasionally she would sniff but it did nothing to get rid of the whistle’s cause. Then there was the sound of the pages being turned in her book; something he hadn’t noticed until she’d brought it up. It was like she was literally sliding the pages against each other before turning at the last possible minute, as opposed to just turning them. Can’t ignore the occasional clearing of the throat either. Was she coming down with something?

He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side to look at her. Her eyes were scanning the words upon the pages of her book and she was oblivious to the noises she was making, or the fact he was looking at her.

‘Is that a good book?’

‘It’s okay,’ she said without even looking up.

He smiled. ‘That’s good then.’ He would hate that she would be making all this noise for a book she wasn’t enjoying. He continued watching as she continued reading, and making these little irritating, annoying as fuck, bash her brains in, stamp on her head, noises.

She coughed.

He winced.

She sniffed.

He sighed.

Without looking up, she asked him, ‘You okay?’

‘Me? Yeah. Sure. All good. Great in fact.’

She looked up from her book and her eyes fixed upon him. There was a slight pause before she asked, ‘Have I upset you?’

‘Me? No. Why do you ask?’

‘You’re looking at me like you hate me.’

He bit his tongue and said, ‘I don’t hate you.’

‘I can put my book down if you want me to?’

‘I have no issues with you reading your book.’

‘You’re sure? I was only reading because you looked busy on your computer.’

He had long since put his computer down but, in fairness to her, he had been busy on it. He had spent the day buried in figures ahead of passing them over to his accountant. Not wishing to disturb him, she had started to read.

‘Honestly it’s fine.’

‘You look grumpy.’

‘Jesus Christ, I’m going to get grumpy if you carry on telling me I look like I’m in a mood.’

‘I just don’t want to annoy you…’

‘And I’ve said I’m fine!’

‘And we all know what that means.’

‘What?’

‘People say I’m fine when they’re not really fine and they just don’t want to talk about it, leaving the other person to guess as to what the problem is.’

‘No. Women do that. Men say I’m fine because they are,’ he lied.

‘If you say so. You still look grumpy.’

‘I’m sorry I have a resting grumpy face.’

‘You’re sure I’ve not done anything?’

‘Oh my God… I told you no, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, but you might not want to say.’

‘Why would I not want to say?’

‘You don’t want to hurt my feelings.’

‘Really?’ He sighed again. ‘I’m fine.’

This was the kind of conversation they had been having for a while now. Certainly, every other day they would be going back and forth like this, until one of them removed themselves from the situation. He didn’t think it was him. She didn’t think it was her but they both knew it was getting worse.

She sniffed again and immediately noticed that he winced.

‘So, I am annoying you!’

‘I didn’t say anything!’

‘You didn’t have to! The look said it all.’

‘It’s fine…’

‘I’ve got a runny nose. I’m sorry. I think I am coming down with something.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said again instead of telling her to try blowing the damn fucking thing. But then even if she did that, he would have to sit there listening to her sounding off like a damned foghorn.

‘I can read in the other room…’

‘For fuck sake woman I…’ He stopped and, slowly, a smile spread across his face.

‘What is it?’ It was hard for her to ignore the look.

The smile widened.

Peace. Perfect peace. It had been like that for a few days now. Just him and near enough complete silence in his house with the exception of the drone from the low volumed television and whatever shit show was playing on it.

He sat there and smiled as he sank back into the settee with his feet up on the glass coffee table. To think, a few days ago he was wondering as to whether he would like this scenario but - now he was living it for real - he couldn’t understand what he had been so concerned about. He wasn’t lonely like he thought he might have been, especially with Valentine’s Day around the corner. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t left pining. He didn’t want anyone else. For him, this was as close to Heaven as he could get whilst living.

‘Bliss,’ he said as he closed his tired eyes.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

He opened his eyes. The fuck was what?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A fly buzzed by his face and then turned, midflight, and buzzed him again.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

‘Fuck off,’ he yelled, not that the fly spoke English and would understand. When it circled him for a fourth time, he jumped up from the couch and grabbed a magazine from the coffee table. He rolled it up tight, into a makeshift weapon. ‘Come on then you little bastard… Where’d you go?’

The fly answered by buzzing back in front of him once more. This time, he took a wild swing at it but missed by a country mile as it started to noisily fly circles around him.

‘Fuck you, you irritating little bastard!’

Every time it went in front of him he took another (missed) swing at it and that was when he noticed, he wasn’t just going against one fly.

There were a number of the noisy little shits buzzing around the room, doing laps as though taking part in their own Grand Prix.

‘Yeah okay… I have something for you,’ he said as he remembered his can of fly killer spray under the kitchen sink, where his wife had left it. He stormed from the room and was shocked to see even more flies darting here and there out in the hallway, leading to the kitchen.

‘What the fuck?!’

Quickly, he hurried through to the kitchen where he yanked the cupboard open, beneath the sink. So many cleaning products but, no fly spray.

‘I know she bought it! Where the hell is it?’

He pulled all the contents out, hoping he had just missed the can but - no. It wasn’t there. As flies started buzzing around in the kitchen, he turned and screamed. He could sense her laughing at him from where she’d been left on the kitchen table. A job half-done of cutting her into smaller pieces. His wife’s dead eyes stared back at him with - he believed - a look of joy within them.

‘Stop laughing at me!’ He screamed again as the flies grew louder, louder, LOUDER.

Only The Lonely

XXX

I had booked this table a while back. I knew it would be busy tonight, Valentine’s Day, of all nights. Foolish men, easily parted with their money, treating their ladies to a meal out in the hope of courting favour. Why shouldn’t singletons come out for a meal too? The night isn’t only for couples. No night is.

It’s packed in here, my favourite steakhouse. I’m not surprised as the food is really rather good and - better yet - reasonably priced too.

As per my request, they seated me by the window. It’s my favourite spot. I can people watch both through the window and in the restaurant too and, this evening, there’s lots of people to watch. Most of the other patrons here are tables of two. There’s a couple of foursomes here and there but, yeah, most are couples. I can’t hear what is being said but all the conversations must be pleasant given the smiles on their faces. With so much hatred in the world, right now, I can’t pretend it’s not pleasant to see the happy couples.

‘Here you go,’ the waitress said as she presented me with the bill.

‘Thank you.’ Before she had the chance to walk away I quickly asked her, ‘Do you have the card machine?’ Nothing irritates me more than when they give me the bill and then disappear for another ten or twenty minutes. When I have the bill, I just want to pay up and leave.

‘Certainly,’ she said. She walked back to the side and grabbed the card machine before returning to my table. I watched as she keyed the amount in before presenting me with the machine. ‘Do you have any other plans for the evening?’

I smiled and shook my head. ‘Probably go home and put a film on and - no doubt - fall asleep in front of it. Same old, same old…’

‘No partner waiting?’

I put my pin into the machine. ‘No.’ I thought that it was fairly obvious I was single, given how I had just eaten my meal alone. Although, credit to the waitress, I do have a take-away box with a steak in it. She could have presumed that I was going to re-heat that for a partner, maybe? But, no, that’s for my dog. A nice little treat for him. I turned the conversation back to the waitress, ‘You must have drawn the short straw to work tonight?’ I handed the machine back to her whilst we waited for it to connect and accept my transaction.

The woman smiled and told me, ‘I actually volunteered to work tonight.’

‘Really?’

‘No sense going out. Everywhere puts the prices up. It’s like New Year’s Eve.’

‘True.’

‘And my partner’s working anyway.’

‘Ah. Doesn’t help have a romantic evening.’

She laughed. ‘Not really.’ The receipt printed out. She smiled and ripped it off. ‘There. That’s all gone through for you.’

‘Always a relief,’ I said. I don’t know why I say that when someone tells me my transaction has been approved. It’s just something I say on reaction. Stupid really. Still, it made her smile as she put the receipt down for me. In turn, I handed her a crisp five-pound note and said, ‘And that’s for you.’

‘Aw, thank you…’

‘Can put it to a nice romantic night out with your boyfriend when you both get a day off.’

‘Nah. I’ll keep it for myself,’ she laughed.

I stood up and started to put my coat on as she wished me a good evening and left me. Pretty girl. Fun waitress. She’ll go far here. With my coat on, I left the restaurant with my dog’s steak.

*

There was no escaping the couples on the bus either. Admittedly there weren’t many. Most days this route was pretty quiet on the public transport, not that I minded. A crowded bus was the worst; all those people crammed in, sneezing and coughing on each other. No thank you. This evening though, it was peaceful. In fact, the only sounds were coming from the dull rumble of the bus and the couple smooching at the back. They took me back to what it was like to be their age. I’m forty now, probably more than twenty years older than them. Mind you, when I was their age, I was always too self-conscious to be kissing like that in public. Still, fair play to them. They’re not hurting anyone.

As we came up to my stop, I stood and pressed the little red button. A ding alerted the tired looking driver that I needed to disembark, and he duly pulled over to the side of the road for me.

‘Thank you,’ I said as I jumped off.

The doors closed behind me and the bus continued on its route. A short walk through a few winding streets and, I’ll be home. It’s not a nice walk in the winter months but, tonight, it’s mild and overcast. No rain, just a slight chill. It’s peaceful and I can’t help but to smile to myself.

*

Benji, my golden Labrador, greeted me with his usual wagging tail and excited panting the moment I stepped over the threshold of my modest home. I - as always - petted him and asked if he had had a nice day. I knew he couldn’t answer me, but I still asked anyway. It was just something I had always done and I wasn’t about to stop now.

‘Can you smell what I’ve got you?’

Benji was sniffing the box. My question was rhetorical. He knew what I’d brought home. Admittedly he didn’t know it was for him but - he would soon enough.

‘Well let me get to the kitchen,’ I said as I pushed passed him, gently. ‘I’ll even warm it up for you.’ Benji followed me; his tail wagged excitedly. Dumb dog. God I love him. Well, I have to love him really, given what I paid for this steak.

In the kitchen I set about warming it up in the oven for him. I also cut it up into nice chunks and added the seasoning I’d brought for him too because, that is how much I spoil him. He just sat near his food bowl. He was looking at me with the same look of love I give him. His tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth. I laughed.

‘You’re a dopey bastard, aren’t you?’

As if he understood me, he barked once. I’m not sure if he was telling me off, agreeing or just ignoring me and telling me to get a move on with his steak. I walked over to him and patted him on the head.

‘Just you and me, boy.’

He barked again.

*

Benji’s belly was full of steak and he was up on the sofa next to me. My right arm rested on him like he was a make-shift pillow. He liked me putting my arm on him, I think. It made him feel close to me. I liked putting my arm on him for the very same reason.

Unsurprisingly the television channels were jammed with crappy romantic films. On a normal day, I would have kept hopping until I found something less… well… girly. Tonight though, I was weirdly okay with these films. Sometimes it was nice to have fluff like this in your life. Forget the fighting, racism, sexism… Forget all the shit in the world and just know that nice people win the day and fall madly in love and the “nasty” people are left out in the cold.

‘Want to live in a world like that, boy?’ I glanced down at Benji, but he didn’t respond. I smiled at him and gave him a little stroke on his head. There was a foamy froth coming from his mouth. My eyes welled up and I knew, he was gone. ‘It’s okay, boy. I love you.’ I leaned down and kissed him on the head. We wouldn’t be apart for long but it was fair to say, the special seasoning had worked faster than anticipated. On the plus side, it was clearly painless for him, exactly as I had hoped. ‘I’m sorry things worked out like this but, it’s for the best,’ I told him. ‘We’ll both be happier.’

With that, I knew it was time.

I got up and headed up the stairs. At the top, a noose hung through the hatch in the ceiling. The other end was tied securely from a rafter. I had prepared it this morning as I knew how the day was going to go. Do all the things I liked to do, eat at my favourite restaurant, have a nice evening with Benji and then - that’s it. Goodnight.

I stepped up on a chair I’d brought out from the office earlier in the day too. Once there, I took in a deep breath (I’m not sure why). Put my head through the noose and, I thought of Benji waiting for me.

All these months and years I’ve been so lonely. So miserable. Now, in these final moments thinking of my best friend waiting for me, I smiled and felt a strange warmth wash through me.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, boy.’

I stepped off the chair.

Enjoyed the stories? Check out Vimeo for some of Matt Shaw’s short films!

https://vimeo.com/themattshaw

Want more Matt Shaw?

Sign up for his Patreon Page!

www.patreon.com/themattshaw

Signed goodies?

Head for his store!

www.mattshawpublications.co.uk