HairyFish

‘Do you want to go upstairs and I can show you the bedroom…’ I said sheepishly as if I hadn’t said those words before, in fact it would be the second time I’ve uttered those words in the past week, far be it from me to brag,  but I’ve changed the sheets and I’m just going through the motions now at this stage, idle small talk has been made, a light beverage has been offered but refused, I suppose it turns out they’re more nervous than I am.

I kick off my shoes and playfully push them aside, mostly to make you feel comfortable, I want to seem relaxed but not too eager. It’s impossible to not feel like a proper seductress when you walk on front of a stranger up a stairs leading them to the bedroom, you can feel the eyes burning into your arse and you’re glad you wore the Diesel jeans, you don’t want them thinking your cheap or desperate for cash. They stumble on one of the steps behind you and I grin quietly to myself. The landing light is one of those new power saving jobbies and hasn’t lit up fully and it’s eerily dark and you hope it’s not a deal breaker because the place now looks like the basement of Miss Fantasias. But to be honest, after meeting face to face now after talking over the phone a few times, maybe the soft lighting is doing them a few favours…

‘You don’t smoke do you?’ I ask

‘No no, eh I used to smoke but I’m really into the gym now and eh…’

God why are they so nervous? This is like second nature to me. Hell I even scrubbed the bathroom and I’m happy with the alpine fresh smell wafting into the landing. They will never know the effort I’ve gone through just for them, but to be honest the bit of spring cleaning I did in a hurry when I got home from work might even be good for another visitor at the weekend. I’m hoping they don’t spot the unfortunate and badly placed bleach stain on the crotch of my jeans. I hadn’t used it in a long time and forgot how powerful the spray nozzle was.

I walk into the room and we seem to have done it at the same time which leads to an awkward moment in the doorway,

‘oh eh no you eh you go on in….’

I make my way into the room and over to turn the telly on, for whatever reason I don’t know. I turn around and you’ve sat down on the edge of the bed as a matter of instinct. Your eyes are darting around the room, taking in the new surroundings thinking of questions you want to ask. It’s then that your expression changes to that embarrassed look and right now you look like Richard Whitely in the fifth season of Countdown and I might be beginning to regret this and thinking of excuses to try and get you out as soon as possible. I know what you are going to ask, but I’m feeling cocky so I let you struggle with the words,

‘Eh how much are eh we like talkin’ …..for ..ya know….?’

I lean nonchalantly against the wall, I’m nearly sure I have crossed my legs too and unconsciously replicate the album sleeve off a late 1970’s Foster and Allen EP. I fold my arms and give an extra moment to add to the tension.

One more moment.

‘Well, Dave…’

‘Oh it’s actually Paul….’

Like I give a brass farthing fuck

‘Sorry, sorry Paul yes of course, well Paul we’re talking four fifty a month, and then an equal share of the bills as they come in, ya know yourself….’

This entry was posted on February 2, 2009 at 1:54 pm and is filed under blogging, funny. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.