Here’s an old short story I wrote a couple of years ago (probably pre-dating most of the stuff I’ve posted on this blog). I don’t plan to do anything with it, so I thought I might as well chuck it up on here for you guys:
The woman clipped on her bra while he watched her from the cream bed, propped up on his elbow. There was a greasy smile on his face. She offered one of her warm grins in return before turning away, trying to avoid his gaze. She focused on an oil painting of a meadow hung up on the far side of the room. A dank, stagnant smell lingered in the bedroom.
“Oh God, that was amazing,” he said, stressing every syllable of the last word. He collapsed onto his back, soaking up what had just happened.
“Mmm, yeah, it really was,” said the woman. “Really can’t wait to do it with you again sometime.” She picked her blue blouse off of the floor and began to slip her arms through the sleeves.
“You can bet there’ll be another time Molly.”
“Yeah, Mary, of course,” he said, the mistake causing his smile to falter slightly. “So Mary, how does it feel to shag a future celebrity?”
Mary bit the inside of her mouth, tracing her memory for anything he said earlier relating to celebrities. She was midway through buttoning up her blouse. “Oh yeah, really, really great. I mean you’re just so good at… sex.”
“It’s gonna be a bestseller, I know it. With films rights and stuff I’m gonna make tons.” She heard him slip out from under the sheets and shuffle towards her. He placed his thick arms around her and took over buttoning duty. She could feel his naked body pressing against her back and could smell his post-sex sweat. She kept her plastic smile on and he continued to talk. “Everybody’s gonna know my name, I’m gonna be bigger than J.R. Rowling.”
“You mean J.K. Rowling?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Sure.” She looked over her shoulder and allowed her warm smile to soothe him.
“I’m gonna be able to buy you all kinds of stuff.”
“How sweet of you.”
“I can take you anywhere you want.”
“How lovely.” Mary untangled herself from him and went to pick up her heels from beside the door.
The man moved over to his desk and rummaged through the stack of papers on top of it. He pulled out a collection of stapled A4 sheets. “Here,” his arm was stretched towards her, “Give this a read.”
Her smile waned. “Oh, maybe next time. I’m in a bit of a rush…” She began to slip on her red heels.
“Come on,” his expression reminded her of a dog waiting to be fed, “Gonna be the next big thing.”
She continued to smile and slip on her shoes for a few seconds, hoping that the situation would resolve itself. It didn’t. “Ok then,” she said, “I’ll give it a quick look.”
Mary accepted the sheets, swept back a loose strand of hair and began to read. She was a fast reader, the first few paragraphs devoured in under a minute. As she finished the first page a slight snigger escaped from the corner of her mouth. There was a pause while both of them realised what the sound she’d just made meant.
“What’re you laughing about?” The man’s smile dissolved.
“Oh it’s, um, nothing. Really.” I just, you know, get the giggles sometimes.” She produced another one of her sweet, effortless grins and stared at him with her deep hazel eyes.
The man’s face grew tense, darkening in colour. “God, were you laughing at me? Were you laughing at my book?”
“What makes you think you have the bloody right to do that?”
“Baby, I was just… You know how silly I am sometimes.”
“You can’t just win me over by fluttering your eyelashes and trying to act cute. What’s wrong with it, why’d you laugh? Why’d you laugh at my book?”
Mary bit her lip, cursing herself for letting that laugh escape. “Well it’s, uh… I mean I really enjoyed it, it was really, really good but… Like, it’s just that it’s about a guy that builds a time machine to, um, stop cats from taking over the world and…” Her voice trailed off, ceasing to be audible.
It’s a very deep and very complex science fiction novel,” he said, gritting his teeth. “What the hell do you know anyway? I mean, why the hell would I want advice from someone like you?”
“I’ve read plenty of books actually.”
“Yeah? Bloody Fifty Shades of Grey?” He laughed to himself.
She shook her head, “No, you’re right, what the hell do I know? You’re the writer.”
“I don’t know the first thing about writing a book.” She turned away from the man and dropped the sheets of paper down on the floor. The woman began to unbutton her blouse. “How about we just forget all this and I do something nice for you instead? Something really nice…”
The man’s sickly smile slowly re-emerged. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that…”
Mary was down to her bra now, she walked towards the man and took his hand. “Would you like it if… I kept the heels on?” The man nodded mutely like a small child and she led him back to the bed. The woman propped herself over the man, their faces almost touching. She smiled at him alluringly.
“I’m gonna be so famous,” said the man, “So bloody famous.” Mary slipped below the covers, managing to suppress the urge to laugh this time. She couldn’t even remember his name.