Friday Night Alchemy

I got to Steve's house and rang the bell. There was no answer so I let myself in with Steve's spare key.

"Anyone home?", I called out, just in case. Once, I'd accidentally walked in on Trish giving Steve a blow job, much to her embarrassment, so these days I made sure they heard me coming (rather than vice versa).

The coast was clear. I was writing a note on the pad by the phone when it rang. I answered it.

"Steve's Brothel. What's your pleasure?"

"Hello Mate. You at my place then?" Steve had a knack for asking stupid questions.

"No. I just re-recorded your answerphone message, then I left." Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit but at least Steve can understand it. "Where are you?"

"Your place. Me and Trish popped in to see how you are, but you're not in." His grasp of the bleedin' obvious was uncanny. "Tell you what Mate, put the kettle on and we'll be home in five minutes. Ok?"

"Five minutes. Bye then." I hung up on him.

It was more like ten minutes when I heard a key in the front door.

"Alun?" It was Trish.

"In the kitchen."

She came through and I thought she was going to faint.

"Jesus Christ! I thought Ste was exaggerating. You look awful."

"Its not as bad as it looks. And how are you?"

"Uh, fine thanks. Is it true you were fighting over a girl?" Trish, like Steve, didn't believe in conversational foreplay. It probably explained why they were so well suited to each other, and why they spent half the time splitting up and the other half making up. Well, they'd been together two years, which is longer than I've ever managed to maintain a relationship, so who was I to criticise them?

"I wasn't fighting over a girl. Her ex tried to glass me with a beer bottle so I decked him. The bouncers did all the damage." I was getting fed up with saying that.

"Whatever." Trish closed the subject. "We were on our way to Cottons for a workout. Come with us. A soak in a Jacuzzi will do you the world of good."

"I'd have to stop off and get my trunks." It actually sounded like a good idea. Steve chose that moment to arrive in the kitchen.

"You can borrow my spare pair. Well, you look brighter than you did yesterday. Did you make the coffee?"

"Kettle's boiled, coffee's in the mug, pour the water in yourself."

"Ok. Refill, Mate? Trish?"

I shook my head. I can't drink coffee the way Steve does.

Trish didn't want any either.

"No thanks. I'll go and get those trunks out for Alun. Drink it quick, Ste. I might just make it to the two o'clock Step class." And she was gone.

"Well?" Steve was fishing. I'll translate: in this context 'Well?' meant 'Did you shag her? Was she as sporty as she looked? Will you be doing her again any time soon?' and several other questions even less politically correct. What he was definitely not asking was 'Is she a good cook? How was the wine? Do you feel better today?' I answered him.

"I'm feeling much better today. Thanks for asking. Oh, and thanks for the wine, it went down a treat with Shana's homemade pasta. She's an excellent cook."

Steve knew this game. He'd played it often enough with me. He'd ask again later, eventually I'd tell all.

"Well I'm glad you liked the wine. You owe me a tenner for it." That was the penalty for being evasive but it was worth every penny. I coughed up.

"You two ready then?" Trish's disembodied voice reached us from the hallway.

"Coming!" Steve shouted. "All set?" The question was addressed to me but he didn't bother waiting for an answer. I followed him out to the car.

En route to Cotton's, Trish quizzed me about Shana.

"So who's this girl then? Ste said she cooked for you last night." Trish wouldn't put up with evasions the way Steve would. I might as well just tell it straight.

"Trish, you're a nosy bitch, you know that, but I love you anyway. Ok then, from the top.

Her name's Shana. She's half Italian, born and raised in New Cross. She's tall, elegant..."

"Drop dead gorgeous." Steve offered his opinion.

"Steve, shut up...elegant, quite bright and not shy. We met in The Moon in Leicester Square last Friday. When I got beat up and she couldn't find me, she asked Gianni - the barman - who pointed her in Steve's direction. Shit-for-brains here gave her my number and she called to make sure I was OK. I called her back, told her yes, I was alive and no, I wasn't going out last night. She felt guilty 'cos her ex-boyfriend started the fight and she offered to cook dinner to make it up to me. That's it. Oh, and she sells posh knickers for a living." I hoped that would be enough to satisfy their curiosity. No such luck.

"Knickers? Like those adverts in Fiesta? Soiled panties plus photo, ten quid." He was just being rude for the sake of it.

"No, you pervert, posh knickers. The sort Trish would get for Valentine's Day if you had any class. Silk and lace."

"Is she a good cook then?" Trish deliberately ignored Steve's remarks and just steered the conversation back to more polite territory.

"Excellent!" I breathed a sigh of relief that the inquisition had moved on to mundane matters. My relief was premature; Trish was just softening me up.

"So what time did she go home?" The tone was innocent but I knew her better than that. Trouble was she knew me too.

"Just gone twelve." Would it work?

"Midnight?" Trish knew. I don't know how, but she knew. I cracked.

"Midday. I walked her to the bus stop before I came over."

"You bad dog!" Steve's exclamation was one of respect, not criticism. Trish slapped him for it.

"You didn't sleep with her? In your condition?" Trish sounded both concerned and incredulous.

"Yes and no. We...."

"Shagged all night and never actually got round to sleeping? Ouch! I'm trying to drive here." Trish had hit him again.

"No! We slept together but we didn't sleep together, if you catch my drift."

"No." Steve was being deliberately obtuse.

"Yes. Was it your idea or hers?" Trish was like a dog with a bone. She wouldn't be happy until she'd got all the marrow out.

"Its a long story...."

"Tell me later, we're here. I'll have to run to catch my Step class. See you two in an hour." She bailed out and ran across the car park.

Steve finished parking and we made a more leisurely entrance.

"Later." Steve was already changed so he headed straight for the gym. I went to the locker room and put my trunks on.

On my way to the sauna, I stopped outside the dance studio to letch at all the pretty girls in Lycra through the glass wall. Trish waved and pulled a face when she saw my multicoloured ribs.

She was right about the Jacuzzi. The hot water was wonderful and the jets massaged away my aches and pains.

I had been soaking in the tub and daydreaming about Shana for over an hour when Steve splashed down beside me with Trish close behind him.

"Right then", she said, "what about this long story?" I told you she was persistent.

"Rub my shoulders and I'll tell you."

Trish climbed out onto the ledge surrounding the tub and, kneeling behind me, started to knead my neck and shoulder muscles. It felt wonderful. Trish has strong hands. I started talking, quietly, since we weren't the only ones in the health suite.

"Hear then, O mighty king! After we'd finished off her pasta...." I proceeded in great detail through all the events of last night and this morning, omitting only the more intimate details. "...and, once she'd caught her bus, I came over to your place."

About halfway through my anecdote, Trish had moved over to Steve who was now enjoying her tender ministrations.

"Should have shagged h..." Steve was suddenly gone. Trish had put all her weight on his shoulders and completely submerged him.

"Ignore him." She let him surface. "I think she sounds very nice. And she obviously likes you so don't blow it. Treat her right." She sounded stern but quickly mellowed. "When do we get to meet her? Me at least, Ste already has."

"Well we're going out next Friday but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if we all met up for a drink. Of course, if Steve's working, you can come on your own. Probably better anyway, without this caveman." I winked at Trish with my one visible eye. She winked back. Steve looked hurt.

"Et tu Brute! Just remember who made this possible. Trish, yesterday morning I had to bully this ungrateful git into answering the girl's phone calls. He was all set to brush her off 'cos he reckoned she was too much hassle. You owe me Mate, just remember that." Steve sounded aggrieved. I laughed.

"Ok. You can come too, and I hadn't forgotten yesterday morning. Thank you for your insight and guidance. Next time I need my arse kicked, you'll be my first choice." That made him smile.

Trish changed the subject. "I'm going to get some steam. Any takers?" Steve went with her to the steam room leaving me alone with my thoughts again. Now where should I take Shana next Friday?

I gave up on that one. There were too many unknown factors such as Shana's tastes & preferences, so I deferred the decision pending speaking to her nearer the time. Besides, she might have plans of her own. I certainly had no problem if she wanted to be dominant, either side of the duvet. Don't get me wrong, I'm not at all submissive. I'm your basic dominant alpha male but a woman with strong ideas about what she wants from a relationship is, in my experience, easier to satisfy than a passive woman. Its a hell of a lot easier to know what a woman wants if she actually tells you.

Steve came out of the steam room alone, Trish being one of those people who can stay in all day. I usually kept her company - I can take it even longer than she can - but I didn't think it wise with a dressing still over my eye. While Trish was out of earshot, Steve tried to quiz me for more details about last night. He was convinced, quite rightly as it happens, that I had been less than candid with him and he wanted the post-watershed version.

"That was bull shit, right?"

"What was?" I tried to look innocent.

"All that stuff about 'We slept together but we didn't sleep together'. Trish may buy it but I've known you how long?"

"Too long." About six years actually.

"Right. I've known you too long to believe you woke up, found a naked girl..."

"She wasn't naked. She had my tee-shirt on."

"Found a basically naked girl in your bed and didn't rise to the occasion, even with those bruises. You could always have got her on top. Sorry Mate but I reckon you're a lying bastard." Steve was so sure of his version of events I wasn't even going to bother arguing.

"The truth remains true even when all believe it to be false." I sought refuge in Confucius. At least, I think it was Confucius.

Trish came back and saved me from having to defend my actions further.

"Trish, tell him. He's picking on me." I appealed for help in my best ‘little boy' voice.

"Ste, play nicely with the other children or I'll smack your bum. Now, if you boys have had enough, shall we go home and get some lunch? I'm starving. Alun?.... Alun?"

"What? Sorry, I was miles away. Lunch. Yes, good idea."

So we went back to Steve's flat and he and I split a four pack of lager while Trish prepared lunch. It wasn't your traditional Sunday lunchtime board of fare: quiche, cold cuts and salad with garlic baguettes on the side. When we'd finished drinking Steve's beer, Trish offered to drive me home. Once we were in the car, she reopened the subject of Shana.

"Is this Shana really drop dead gorgeous then?"

"Steve seems to think so and you know what good taste he's got. He even asked if she had a sister." I dropped him in it. Think of it as pay back for his comments in the Jacuzzi.

"Did he now? Well, well. Thank you for telling me."

Steve was going to be in a world of pain when Trish got back. I smiled to myself. He deserved it.

"Here we are." Trish pulled up outside my flat.

"Thanks for the lift. See you soon. OK?" I got out of the car.

"Friday, if not before. And get some rest. You look worn out."

"Yes Nurse."

She was right though. I was shagged – in the strictly metaphorical sense.

"I'll give you ‘nurse'. If you want to play that game, call your new girlfriend." She blew me a kiss and drove off. Trish always, but always, got the last word. She was famous for it.

The Answerphone was showing two messages when I got in. I hoped one, or both, might have been from Shana. They weren't. One was my Mother, calling for a chat. I'd ring her back tomorrow. The second was from Rob, a mutual friend of Steve and I. He'd heard about Friday night and had called to see how I was doing. He was on Steve's darts team so I'd see him Thursday. He and the rest of the lads could have the full story then.

It was only early evening, hours too early for bed, so I moved the phone within reach of the settee, turned on the television and stretched out. I must have fallen asleep because the clock said it was gone ten when the phone woke me. I groped for the receiver.

"Yep?" I must have sounded as drowsy as I felt.

"Did I wake you up? I did promise I'd ring you later. Well, it's later!" Guess who?

"Hiya. Yeah, I was asleep on the settee."

"Sorry."

"No worries. I'd just dozed off. It's bedtime anyway. How's your day been?" I was starting to feel more alert.

"Just the same old same old. I went to six o'clock mass but I didn't go to confession so I'm afraid you haven't shocked any priests yet." She was a tease. I liked that about her - a lot.

"I spent all afternoon in a Jacuzzi with Steve and his girlfriend. I feel a lot better for it."

"Did you tell Steve everything?"

"As little as possible. Its much more fun having him try to wheedle it out of me."

"You're wicked to him."

"Ain't I just? He and Trish want to meet you so I said maybe we'd do drinks on Friday. We are still on for Friday, aren't we? You haven't come to your senses or anything?"

"Yes, we are still on for Friday and I'd love to see Steve again and meet Trish. I owe him a big kiss for being such a sweetie, don't I?"

"Just don't deliver it with Trish around. She'll go ballistic. Possessive does not begin to describe our Trish." I had a feeling this warning was falling on deaf ears.

"We'll see. Oh, by the way, There's a little present for you under your pillow. I must go now. Its late and I have an early start in the morning. Nighty night." There was a sound that could only be a blown kiss.

"Good night Shana, and thanks for the present, whatever it is. I'll speak to you soon." I put the phone down.

A present? What now? Well, no use speculating, I went to look under the pillow. What I found there, I'd seen in my bed before. Shana's little black panties. Very pretty they were too. I phoned her back. This deserved comment.

"Hello?" It was her flatmate, Jodie.

"Hi! Can I speak to Shana please?"

"Who shall I say is calling?" Jodie was still vetting Shana's calls.

"Its Alun." I heard a muffled whisper in the background then Shana was on the line.

"Hello again. Didn't we just say goodnight?" She didn't sound surprised that I'd called though.

"Thank you for my present, they're lovely. Are they the ones you were wearing last night?"

"You know full well they are. You peeked as you got up to make breakfast. Or is you memory really that poor? Concussion maybe?"

"My memory's fine but does this mean I walked you down the Old Kent Road in broad daylight with no knickers on? I wish I'd known at the time."

"Why Sir! What sort of a girl do you think I am to be out in public with no underwear? What if I were run over? Why, I'd die of shame. Besides, I always have a spare pair of knickers and tights in my handbag. It's a girl thing."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but why?" I really was wondering what the game was.

"Lets just call it a lonely impulse of delight."

"W. B. Yeats."

"Pardon? Yes. We did it for GCSE English. I liked that one. I just thought you'd like them as a memento of our first night together so I washed them and put them on the radiator to dry while I was in the shower. If you don't want them, you can return them on Friday." She had to know that wasn't going to happen.

"I think I'll keep them for now. It could be my only opportunity to part you from your knickers." If she wanted to lower the tone, I could lower it further.

"Could be. Sweet dreams, Lover."

"Thanks again, for everything. Sweet dreams."

Now it really was bedtime. I put my present back under the pillow before turning out the lights and went to sleep wondering what next weekend would bring. Whatever happened, it was bound to be fun.

Monday

Against all odds, not to mention common sense, I made it into work the next morning. I didn't really feel up to it but if I stayed home I'd be climbing the walls by lunchtime.

The regular Monday morning team meeting overran because I was prevailed upon to tell my story once again. At least it provided an opportunity to get it out of the way in one fell swoop. Apart from the morning meeting, I did precious little to earn my daily bread, just answering a few e-mails and doing a bit of housekeeping on my laptop.

I rang my mother during lunch. Its always best to ring her at work, it keeps the conversation shorter and means I only get to hear the important stuff. After twenty minutes spent telling me all about the local am-dram group's latest offering and the scandal of Mrs. Hudson at number 41, who has apparently taken in a male lodger - and her a respectable widow, well I ask you - Mater remembered to ask after me. I neglected to mention Friday's little contretemps lest it cause her to fret. She's been convinced for many years that her little boy will come to a bad end in the big city. People down here have no morals, as she's repeatedly told me. After Shana's present, I'm tempted to concede the point. Fancy a good Catholic girl doing that sort of thing! On the Sabbath too. I love this city, but it could give Sodom & Gomorrah a run for their money. Truth be told, that's why I love it.

I wasn't going to be able to hide the scar on my eyebrow so I told Mater I'd picked up six stitches playing rugby in an inter-company challenge match. I got a lecture about being more careful and how she'll never understand my fascination with dangerous sports but at least she won't worry about it. Boys will be boys so I'm told.

I didn't mention Shana. There's no point until I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other. It doesn't do to let the old dear know her little boy is a promiscuous philanderer (Chance would be a fine thing.). It would upset her.

After lunch I had a meeting with the boss. He just wanted a pep talk as he was away at a conference for the rest of the week. I gave him advanced warning that I was taking Friday afternoon off to go and have my stitches out. He was OK about it, even though it'd leave the department without a manager for half a day. He said he'd warn the other department heads that support would be minimal and any major glitches would have to wait until after the weekend. That pretty much wrapped it up for Monday.

I left a message on Shana's answering machine that evening, suggesting that since she didn't have a free evening we could maybe have lunch together one day this week. I left her my office number too, in case she wanted to take up my offer at short notice. Then I drew a hot bath, read for an hour or so, until my toes wrinkled, and had an early night.

Tuesday

I woke early and lay in bed waiting for the alarm clock to go off. Less than forty eight hours earlier I'd been watching Shana sleeping beside me. It was a pleasant recollection. After over a year of celibacy, I'd almost forgotten what its like to share my bed. Shana had reminded me why I don't like sleeping alone and now I was wondering how soon I'd have the pleasure of her company, or rather the pleasure of her, again. The alarm clock forced me out of bed and a cold (ok, lukewarm) shower dealt with the now familiar anatomical response to thinking about Shana.