Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Immaculate White

(Disclaimer-I'm really nice person. Then the phone died.)

She thought of Jonathan. He's probably been shown around the complex by now and settled in with his suitcase of essentials. He liked to travel light. He knew how to travel light from all his camping excursions. This time, no tent. The room was basic decorated to suit the taste of anyone and no one. Curtains in subdued floral. A print on the wall of a beach scene with no people. A palm tree in the corner freshly dusted. The hint of a maid. Immaculate innocuous white sheets. Immaculate innocuous white tiles. There was a theme here. The toiletries the only decoration. Faux wood cupboards to match the faux wood headboard. There was something very faux about his surroundings. Perhaps it was the twelve foot high chain link fence topped with a sprinkling of barbed wire. The way the concierge had drawn his attention away from it to point out the pool only made him more curious.

If you want to go out, a driver will take you. You'll be meeting your colleagues in the morning. There's a welcome breakfast. You may want to relax. She didn't bother to show him the condo. It was self-explanatory.
He suddenly wished he had brought that cup his girlfriend had painted him. She was certain he would need it. Something personal for when you're far away. He wished he had brought a few more books. He missed his kids. He felt that pang he'd get when on a long trek when you're neither at the summit or base camp. The harsh inbetween. The empty time when for a moment, you plummet from inertia and wonder why you're doing it. He knew it wouldn't last. He was strong. There was a whole new life awaiting him tomorrow. In the mean time, he'd check out the tv. It was loaded with hundreds of distracting channels.

She thought of the Bikeman. He'd signed up to another channel. She barely knew him. Only liked watching the videos he chose. Effortless, like ballet. She wondered if she could do that. She thought they'd have a chat about it one day, maybe a visit. He'd taken a dislike to her liking him and his bike life. And an even bigger dislike to her getting on with his friends. Almost a defensive dislike. Women weren't his forte. There was deep hate there; as deep and cold and still as an unexplored arctic pond. Distrust. He didn't want her to know something. Jonathan was furious with her for having this fascination with people who really are children. How can you have such an error of judgement? I'd tell you to take your throat off the man's cock, but he doesn't have one. He's probably scared to death of you...big breasts, American thighs. Doesn't know the first thing to say. He's got A levels in wanking. Hero of the day now a coward. Towering man a cowering child. A pasty nervous nothing. Her only fantasy now was to kick his head in. Let it roll down the alley like a gutter ball. Step on his fingers accidentally while he tries to reach for his balls he hasn't got. Break the ice so to speak. 

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