Untitled Sexy Romance Story, Part One

It resembled a gaudy birdbath, resting near the large wall-sized window on the eastern side of the gift shop. A bright, deep blue stand, only about two feet tall, a plume of steam rising from its bowl. The bowl was filled with water, and the entire object itself was plugged into an electrical outlet, which made it apparent that the electricity was heating the water, yet....

“What is this supposed to be?”, Rebecca asked, crouched on the floor, trying to absorb every detail of this mysterious object. “Do... you have any clues?”

Frank knelt down beside his friend. “I’ve... never seen this sort of contraption before..... but I don’t usually go to shops like this on my own accord.”

“No, neither do I.... but I need something that is a perfect combination of favorable and incredibly cheap in this mall, ...... this is what Charlottetown dismally calls the “downtown”. No wonder everything shuts down here at bloody five-thirty pm!“ She glances around nervously, recognizing that there is a store clerk who may not appreciate such a comment. “...... I’m running out of options here.”, she whispers. “What am I going to do?”

“Well, you don’t have to be all that picky now.”, Frank said. “It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

“I need something a little....”, tilting her head in all directions in hopes of finding a price tag, “....better than a CD or a book.... or, goddamn, a daily planner!”

“One of your girlfriends got you another one of those on your birthday again, did she?”, he smirked, knowingly.

“Yes!”, she groaned. “I’m such an easy person to buy for, apparently. Just buy a thing where I get to write down all my lovely appointments, and I’m supposedly a happy woman. Women don’t always buy the best gifts, despite what you may have heard.”

“I.... I suppose not......”, he fumbled. “But what do I know....?”

“Hmmm, well, we might as well get this over with then...... maybe you can stake out one end of the store, love, and I’ll do the other!”, she considered.

“Sure.”, he agreed.

Rebecca walked away from him, retracing her path to the entrance. “If you find the perfect gift, I’ll have to put a co-authorship on the name tag. From Rebecca, with the grateful assistance of Frank.”

“Maybe I won’t bother looking, then. I’ll just pretend.”

Rebecca sticks out her tongue, before turning her head to regard the discounted, off-season items of the store.

Frank began his own solitary pacing to the opposing end of the gift shop. He wasn’t one of those guys who particularly objected to shopping with Rebecca -- most guys would probably not care to wander the mall with a woman, or at least, that’s the stereotype one hears frequently. Frank, on the other hand, found this just another way to spend his free time. Free time with a good friend, who wanted to buy something for her ten-year-old cousin.

“Find anything good yet?”, Rebecca hailed from the other side of the shop, her voice nudging the displays as it tried desperately to make it to Frank’s eardrums.

“Nothing that I would have much use for yet......”, he said.

“Oh, please, put yourself in a ten-year-old girl’s shoes,”, she implored. “Surely, you could do that.”

Frank smiled at her, guessing at why Rebecca would make such a statement. “I think that would be impossible in a number of ways. Everyone would gossip, and, besides, my feet are too big to fit into those shoes.”

“Oh, be serious, love.”, shaking her head in a teasing fashion. “You’ve hung out with enough women in your time. You must know something of what might interest one of them, even one who’s still a kid.”

You’ve hung out with enough women in your time. Perhaps at an excessively alarming rate, he thought. Over the years, he has had many female friends. A few of them were lovers, but most of them never got past the let’s-go-to-a-movie-and-then-out-to-the-clubs stage. That elusive luck turned into that particular direction, is all.

For the past few years, Rebecca was the female buddy that he had often found himself connected to. She offered a level of support when his girlfriend Christine left him. She was the one whom he turned to, just to let out all of the confusion, all of the frustration..... dare he say, all of the hurt?

He would have sooner gave away all of those words to Rebecca more than to any of the males he associated with. He would have just gotten too many irrelevant questions.

Why is your best friend a female?

What do you two have in common -- since you guys aren’t screwing?

Words form the intelligent mouths of other sage fellows, huddling close to the giant-screen TV at the local club, alternately howling in drunken laughter , and passionately debating the merits of the so-called athletes and their antics during a World Wrestling Federation pay-per-view.......

“That’s World Wrestling Entertainment, now, guys. Those stupid panda bear idiots, that World Wildlife Fund or whatever the hell they are, couldn’t bear being confused with the greatest name in sports entertainment, so they went out and spoiled the fun!”

“What would a panda burger taste like? I want one!!”

More silly laughter, from voices willing isolated from the realm of sensibility.

Male bonding would have been the name of the game at this locale. Frank and the other guys would be downing drinks, and desperately clinging to the vestiges of masculinity. Any slip of the tongue would create a serious injury.......

“Sure would love to see those women in one of those bra and panties matches!”, one voice would say with a vicious glee.

“Too bad that Chyna wasn’t still in wrestling?”, another would say.

“Ah, but she wasn’t a real woman -- her limbs were huge -- veins popping out everywhere. She wasn’t normal!” The expert on normalcy had spoken.

“But she had a fantastic rack!”

“That’s all that was fantastic about her........”

There really wasn’t any point in disputing such facts. That would just result in more irrelevant questions. His laughs were brought out under duress, but it was better than arousing suspicion.

Here, as of this moment, at the mall with Rebecca, Frank did not need to halfheartedly be on the level of the other guys. No need to play by the rules of an ancient game.

He never thought to ask himself if perhaps Rebecca had a game of her own. Whatever game it was, he was fine with it.

As he wandered the right-hand side of the shop, scanning the numerous candles upon the glass stands, he felt his line of vision swaying toward a figure upon the floor. This figure wasn’t for purchase. Rather, it was the figure of a young woman, crouched down to the carpet, moving a number of items around upon the shelf. Clearly, she was the salesclerk at the gift shop. Being a small, local shop, this woman would have been the only person on duty at this time. Even so, she appeared less than critically busy, filling time with less than purposeful shuffling of stock.

The woman appeared to be in her early twenties. Her hair was dirty-blonde, in a ponytail. She wore glasses with thick, but practical, appealing frames -- her face wasn’t particularly stunning, but it was cute. Cute enough to gaze at for lengths at a time.

Her outfit was not anything colorful. Just a basic loose-fitting shirt, with white and blue strips, stacked on top of each other. Her jeans hugged her waist, like the hands of a rock climber, desperately clinging to a rock, hoping not to fall to her demise.

The woman rapidly stood straight up, apparently having noticed the closeness of the unknown customer beside her.

“Hey....”, she said softly. “.... can I assist you with anything?”

He really couldn’t think of anything worthy or appropriate to utter. He just wanted to observe this nameless woman. She had a plain appearance, with a few blemishes on her face, the residue of acne. Yet that plain appearance made her appear genuine, comforting. Her body was soft, the sort one could curl up with. Her breasts were ample, rounded like the other crucial areas of her body. He needed to repress his accumulating thoughts, lest he finds himself thinking like those wrestling fans.......

“Well, not particularly......”, he stammered.

But then he noticed that mysterious object.

“Hey.... “, once again, “we were wondering what that contraption was over there.”, pointing to that steaming pool nearby.

“It’s called a cool mist dehumidifier.”, the woman said. Frank noticed that her voice contained a minute tremble, as if a nervousness nipped at her heart. “Neat-looking, isn’t it?”

“Well, yea, it’s unusual. It’s -- attractive-looking, I suppose.”, glancing halfheartedly at the object before more firmly placing his line of vision to the salesclerk yet again.

“Not quite sure about it, are you?”, she teased.

“No.... well, there are things that I’m sure about... but not necessarily that one.”

“What things are you sure about? Is it a particularly long and complicated list?”, the woman smiled.

“Ah.... you’re quite inquisitive.”

“Well, you have nothing to fear.”

“..... no, maybe not. But fear is a difficult thing to brush off.”

“Don’t I know it?”, she sighed.

The impulsive conversation was slighted by a third party. “Hey, you!”, was Rebecca’s exclamation. “No need to sample the merchandise any longer. I’ve got something.”

Frank and the unknown salesclerk turned to face Rebecca, holding a blue umbrella in her hand.

“Oh.... “, feeling that his friend was suddenly becoming a slight hindrance. “....um... well, that looks quite good.”, was all he could muster.

“Oh, gee, thanks. Don't’ you mean --- Wow, Rebecca, that’s a fab umbrella?”

“Sure, Rebecca..... sure......”, he smirked.

The salesclerk’s eyes divided their time between the two speakers, who paced ahead of her, naturally expecting her to follow them to the cash register.

“You weren’t really doing your job, were you?”, Rebecca whispered to Frank.

“She told me what that thing was over there.”, referring to the dehumidifier.

“What would Natasha want with something like that?”, she asked, rudely.

She placed the umbrella awkwardly on the table.

“...... do you think Natasha would use the umbrella though?”, Frank asked, a twinge of sarcasm.

The young salesclerk regarded the price tag clung upon the half-loop of the handle.

“Why not? She walks home from school every day.......”, said Rebecca.

She returned her sight fully to the salesclerk, who regarded the customer, and spoke:

“That will be 10.58”

Rebecca frowned, mystified. “Ten fifty-eight? I was certain that said eight-ninety-nine.....”, in a tone of dissatisfaction.

The woman appeared to falter in her speech as a result of Rebecca’s grievance. Her face caught a slither of embarrassment. “N... no... it is, but after the federal tax and the provincial tax -- that’s... seventeen percent extra.”

“And you know that just from looking at the price tag?”, stunned at what she considered suspicious behavior. “You must be some sort of genius, skimming a few cents off of every customer with your manual estimates.”

The young woman became unsure of her posture, her mannerisms. She half-turned a couple of times before firmly entering the price tag numbers in the register. Ding! “That will be ten-fifty-eight, please.”, she repeated, slowly, calmly, lest she stammer again.

Frank chuckled. “What do you know? She was right after all......” He gave a glance of admiration toward the salesclerk.

Rebecca glared at her friend, expressing the wordless desire for him to keep quiet and stop advocating this freakish woman.



*



“I could tell that you were madly flirting with that gal.”, Rebecca said, mischievously, as the two returned to the mass of people in the mall’s main foyer.

“How do you gather that......”, he responded, hiccuping an almost defensive tone.

“Oh, I can always tell when you use your lousy attempts at charm!”, smiling sardonically, although her voice was on the verge of cracking.

“Oh well, I have the right to do so, I think.”, he smiled, feeling that he won the argument.

“Well, perhaps now you do.”, she emphasized. “Six months ago, you might have paid a price for it.”

Frank looked at her.

“Although I suppose you’ve already paid a price in any case.......”, Rebecca said, softly.

Frank and Christine were a couple for a couple of years, before the relationship soured, manifesting itself in private and public ways.

“But, Frank, dear.....”, she continued, laughing with a tender spite, “... that girl at the shop was such a nerd. I think she was trying to rip you off, either that or she is simply oddball. Guessing the taxes without using the register? What’s the point in that?”

Frank felt that Rebecca’s comments were unjustified at this juncture. “Oh, Rebecca,”, he grinned sardonically, “She wasn’t all that bad now. Why, she talks more politely than you are at this moment.”

She phonied a gasp. “My, you really weren’t thinking with your brain, weren’t you? Well, it’s understandable. After six months of nothing, you’d go for anything in hip-straddling pants and an impressive bustline. Happens to the best of them.”

Frank understood his emotions to be redundant at this point. “Well... it, um, doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’d be seeing that girl again. I wouldn’t give this chance encounter a deep analysis.”

Rebecca opened the main door to the mall, stepping ahead of Frank.

“Who said I was? I was just giving an opinion. I really don’t care what you do with yourself.”

Frank followed through the glass doors, as Rebecca turned to face him.

“Really?”, he asked, smirking at Rebecca’s muddled visage. “So you’re not trying to control me, then?”

“No way -- I wouldn’t do such a thing.”, she said defiantly. The two began walking up Queen Street. “So,”, she said after a few silent moments. “... I hope you’ll have fun with us tonight?”

“Where?”, wondering if he had missed something en route from the gift shop to the sidewalk.

“To Myron’s, silly! All the guys from work are coming along so you might as well fill that final empty slot, huh, love?”

“well....”, Frank had only passing familiarity with her friends. He wasn’t even sure of most of their names, “... I suppose I could try to feign interest.”

“Oh, good!”, she glowed. “You’ve got to hang out more with us. I know that you say that you don’t know them all too well...... but now that Christine isn’t around to tie you down, you can.........”

Rebecca paused her commentary, as her eyes suddenly squinted toward a far-off object.

“Oh, sh*t.”

“What?”

“Speaking of the heartless wench......”, Rebecca said. Christine was walking towards them, from the next block. Christine did not seem to notice them, but Rebecca played with the idea of forcing her to notice.

“What’s the purpose of you calling her names?”, Frank asked. “She was my ex-girlfriend.”

“But you are my friend, love, and I will protect your good name!”, Rebecca declared, as she subtly led her friend closer within his ex-girlfriend’s general area. “And she is a heartless wench. She dumped you, and for what? Because she didn’t like your politics, that’s why....”, she sneered. “Idiot!”

“I don’t even have any politics for her to like.”, confused.

“Exactly my point. You -- selfish, inconsiderate you -- were actually more concerned with real life! Your job, your friends, whether or not you can get through the month without going bankrupt. You know, like most of the human race. You don’t have the time to listen to all different forms of bullsh*t, from men and women who’s only true ambition in life is to sit in cushy jobs and line their pockets with green!”

“Lining her pockets?”, he scoffed. “She joined the New Democratic Party!”

“Oh well......”, having reminded herself that the NDP was quite low-ranking in the political landscape, ”..... the only difference between the NDP and every other political party in Canada is that they haven’t gotten the support that allows all the other parties to line their pockets with green. They’re too caught up in trade unions and angry student activists to get around to making any money, but that’s what happens when you’re a left-wing socialist party. ”

By this point, the three of them were within feet of each other. Christine’s face grew sullen, expecting a confrontation. Yet she braved all potential outcomes, as she sized up her opponent. Christine was resigned to the fact that it was time to participate in yet another battle. But with whom, it was difficult to articulate.

“We should’ve walked the other way.”, Frank, not as well-prepared for battle, said to Rebecca.

“Nonsense. This is our city too. If she doesn’t like it, she can move to Summerside. That would be demoralizing enough for her, I’d say. No culture. No politics. Just the Water Street bars, where she can drown her heartless self in booze with all the inbreds from out west.“ Her voice was too gleeful at the prospect.

The three of them ceased their movements. Awkwardness flooded over the whole situation as the incoming fog.

“....uh, hi.”, Christine uttered, fearfully hesitant.

“Hello.”, Frank said cooly.

“Hello.”, Rebecca repeated, topping her friend in the frigidity sweepstakes. “What’s up?”

“Um...... I just came back from the mall. I’m wearing my new shirt.” It was a tank top, which revealed some midriff, and hugged her body.

“Nice. Never thought a girl of your political persuasion would wear such a thing.”, Rebecca smirked. “Is that the sort of outfit you wear during your raucous political protests?”

Christine choked on her own breath. “..... ah, there’s really no point in talking, is there? There’s going to be a fight. It’s inevitable.”

“Of course, it’s inevitable, because you always start it.”, Rebecca pronounced, relishing her own words. “Despite that bland, gentle face of yours, you’re a vindictive little....”

“Now, wait just a moment. I didn’t break up with you! I don’t see what your problem is.”

“well... my problem is that you screwed my friend over for another guy!”

A gasp. “I never cheated on him....??”

“Well, maybe you didn’t legally cheat on him. But you did a lot of things for a certain Jack Layton, when your precious NDP had their leadership race, and you put your support for him. You put a lot more work into seeing your new man win the leadership in the fifth most popular party in government....”, she scoffed, “....than you ever did with this measly little relationship.”

Christine felt assaulted. “Jesus, you’re crazy! I just did something that I believed in!”

“Well, you certainly didn’t believe in Frank, did you?”

Christine rolled her eyes, considering her next mode of verbal defense. “Not like it’s any of your concern. But..... I wanted something more! I live in this country too, you know, and I, unlike you, actually give a sh*t about what’s going on. All of you people just like to throw away your money on cheap liquor and mind-washing Hollywood movies and cheesy pop music. Eat a fancy meal! Watch a hip independent film! Listen to alternative music!”

Rebecca threw a disdainful glance toward Frank.

“Open your mind to the world, even if only slightly.”, Christine continued. “We’ve got this arrogant government, who have enjoyed their power for far too long, who are replacing their leader with an even more arrogant, more right-wing man, without even so much as a real leadership race. Nobody cares to run against him within his own party. We’ve got an opposition which is even worse; it’s so fractured and ineffective. I just wanted to help out, in a hope that Canada would be........”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, save that for the moment before you start rattling on metal fences at your next protest. This is about you and Frank, not you and Paul Martin, or whomever you consider the Great Satan this week.”

“Okay...... you’ve got me, I can’t get away from it.”, she spoke sarcastically. “I just didn’t think you were up to my league. I wanted to try different things..... but, you, you just wanted to stay in that little cocoon of yours.”

Frank had been silent for so long that his voice cracked. “Well, I’m sorry that I wasn’t into everything that you were into.”

“Don’t be sorry. I suppose I lived in my own cocoon as well.... but mine had more space to move around in. The problem was that your eyes were a bit too feeble, and you had to pull me back before I strayed too far, just so you could lay your eyes on me. You didn’t like me going too far.”

“Now, come on!”, Rebecca interjected. “You’re making him sound possessive.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”, Christine said. “I don’t think you have that problem that other guys have............ it’s just.......... it just didn’t work.” She sighed. “That’s all it was. We just weren’t a good match.”

Rebecca gave an ugly grimace.

Frank felt passive. He didn’t want to create any sort of confrontation. What could he say?

“Have.... have a good day, Christine.” He turned around and walked the other way.

Rebecca wanted to pursue him, but needed to get in one last shot. “Ah, Christine, I have a feeling you’re going to be giving the NDP a similar speech in the next few months. Jack, it just didn’t work! Your party sucks! All those crazy radicals and tree-huggers, and left-of-centre kooks --- they aren’t all girly and perky like I am, they don’t know how to have any fun. Sorry!”, she grinned. “See you later!”

Rebecca turned and followed her friend, leaving Christine, the one who broke off the initial relationship, feeling as if she were the one whose entire being was spat at and stepped on.



*





She sat in solitaire, at an obscure table inside the nightclub.

Her face felt tense, frigid, although her heart leaped across the scalding coals lining her soul.

...... damn, I feel so stupid at this very moment.......

Beads of sweat draped her skin. Her breathing grew more erratic, although not loud enough that passersby would suspect asthma attacks or an equally dire situation.

Janice had been at the bar for the last three hours. She accompanied her friend Sherri, a waitress for the restaurant portion of the establishment, and considered that to be the perfect excuse to smuggle herself into this unorthodox situation.

Sherri, she would say, I can’t really muster up the effort to cook anything for myself this evening; maybe one of your bitter, underpaid chefs can do that for me.

So the two women would walk the distance from upper Hillsborough, all the way down to Kent Street, on a cloudy yet tolerable late afternoon, to Myron’s, tossing words back and forth. Words about the day, about plans for the weekend.

But Janice held a few bits of prose tightly within her fist, unwilling to let them go.

She volunteered herself as Sherri’s first customer of the evening, and being a good friend, gave her a sensible tip. Five dollars was a generous gift for a ten dollar meal. But she was like that -- wanting to be friendly, generous.......

Five dollars would have helped Sherri immensely, she thought. Sherri was the type to find bargains -- she would go to yard sales every week, stocking up on whatever items had the proper balance between elementary usefulness and dirt-cheap pricing. Yes, five dollars would do her friend well........

Janice obsessed over silly things such as dollars and cents, or numbers in general. Not because she was a mathematical genius, but simply because she, as she saw it, had a numerical fetish.

.......Christ, I’m the biggest dork imaginable........

She smirked. It felt good. Like stabbing a chisel through a block of ice.

Her workplace, as the cashier at Genuine Order, a gift shop at the nearby mall, was the most opportune location to satiate her fetish. She had the ability to manually calculate the final price of an item, with both the federal and provincial sales tax added on to the base price. Her usage of the cash machine was merely for show, so nobody would talk afterwards.

She would succumb to weakness, occasionally, however, betraying her bland employee role, as she found herself helplessly relaying the full post-tax price to the customer before keying it into the register. Innocent slip-up, granted. But once, a dour soul accused her of attempting to scalp him with her seemingly innocent number games. So she repressed that part of herself. She never let it out for months.

Until this afternoon -- for one second that urge to express herself fought back, and won. And yet again, she was chastised for it, this time by that woman with the umbrella.

That couple at the store, that woman with the umbrella and the guy who followed her along. What was up with them? The man seemed very interested in talking to her. The eyes spoke the words -- he seemed far more interested in her than the girl that he was with, at least for those fleeting seconds that he spoke to her.

Did the woman realize what the man was doing? It was a shame that this relationship had a few loose strains preventing perfection.

Or maybe it was a more casual relationship than it appeared to be. She always imagined two people sticking by each other - that was the romantic image. But perhaps all it was, was an image... while reality, constructed with obvious and secret layers, was different.

Janice’s own reality wasn’t up to the scrutiny either -- so why should she wrack her brain over the nameless couple and their relationship?

....... but I can’t help myself, that’s my excuse. I’ve kept myself bottled up for far too long.......

She didn’t have the opportunity for a relationship, casual or otherwise. She was lonely, in that primal way, that had little to do with spiritual bonding. Her need to push away her loneliness was like the need to eat, to breathe, to drink water, so as to sustain oneself.

........ for god’s sakes, just admit that I’m horny. I think I have a right to be, after a particular span of time..........

Janice felt her cheeks flush. But what she thought to herself was fact. Her body was lonely, and she wanted to forget about it, to share that willing forgetfulness with another similarly inclined body.

“One” was a critical number, sure, but “one” was all by itself. It needed another to continue the pattern, or else it would be useless.

There were only so many times that one could multiply and divide oneself, before that one would be faced with the truth, that no matter how much pleasure one could get from oneself, the answer would always be one -- one, single, solitary, alone, lonely, thirsty, hungry.........

It had been three years since she had last been with a man. No kisses, no romance, not even stupidly-misguided lust wandered into her realm in that length of time. If she were an outside observer, she would ask us if we really ought to blame her for needing to grasp at whatever she could get her hands on. But those outside observers would never know what was really going on within her. She kept all of it a secret, behind her counter at work, or anywhere else.

Nobody ever wanted to pry into that secret room of hers; that secret room haunted with her numerical obsessions and her sexual loneliness. She was helplessly unable to exorcise those demons away from within those mysterious walls, although she gave a strong effort to guard that room. To make all others believe she was a certain type of person, unrelated to the demons within her soul.

Resigning herself to the belief that there would be few people in this nightclub whom she would be willing to take home, she paced back to the bar, to order another drink.

Shows how much she went into clubs, she thought. The guys here had a chronic inability to be genuine, fully-formed human beings. They were empty vessels, which could only be filled with beer, the results still less than appealing. None of these guys could give her what she wanted. They would never respect that secret room of hers, if she were willing to let them inside.

......... but why should that matter? I’m looking for a dick, not a brain.......

As her thought scurried along her brain, her heart jumped. Her observations was hopelessly crass, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t have normally uttered such a thing to anybody......

..... I’m such a dork.......





-----
END OF PART ONE
Part two at http://www.epinions.com/content_3513819268