I guess that’s why I make the decision that I either need to refurbish our old burnt-out premises for real or let them go.
I guess that’s also why I fold Cameron’s baby chair up and put it in the utility room, and why I decide that tomorrow is the first day of his new life with new possibilities.
Mine, too.AbigailMy nerves are jumping right through me as I take the car into Malvern on Saturday morning. It feels a ridiculous idea in the daylight, but not ridiculous enough that I’m not parking up in the station car park at barely past ten.
I was worried I wouldn’t find my bearings, but as soon as I step away from the station I know exactly where I’m going. I cross the road, just as he told me to. I follow the street through the industrial estate, just like he told me to.
I don’t know what I’m looking for in this direction. Too many buildings and they all look the same.
I reach the nightclub so quickly it takes me by surprise. It looks so innocuous in the summer sun. There’s no sign of life whatsoever.
No sign that this was the place I finally brought my fantasy to life for real.
The way back is the real test. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I have nothing to ask a passing stranger. No photo prompters other than the shot of his monster cock saved to my phone. Somehow I don’t think I’ll be using that one.
I navigate by streetlights, recalling every glow of light I found solace in. I’m reaching a bend in the road when I see the one that sets my heart thumping.
I remember the ping of metal in the road. The sound of footsteps behind me.
My belly flutters and my clit sparks, senses on high alert as I position myself underneath it.
Here. He was here. Right here.
I scan the surrounding buildings in the daylight.
A refrigeration company, a furniture importer, an IT support company.
I keep going.
The headquarters of a local housing association, a removal firm.
No and no.
And then I see a dip in the tarmac. A dip and then a kerb.
I remember tripping, correcting myself on shaky legs… and then him. At my back.
I keep walking until the next business comes into view. Scott Brothers Logistics. It’s big. Set back from the road.
Trucks.
The tarmac turns to gravel on the driveway, and I remember the crunch under his feet.
I feel like an idiot as I head closer, my cheeks burning when I notice they’re open for trading on a Saturday morning.
Fuck, I feel like a fucking crazy.
And then I see the shutter doors. My whole body trembles.
I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot, which is ridiculous. Totally ridiculous.
I’m staring up at them when a voice calls out.
I start so hard I gasp, and I’m staring dumb with wide eyes at the man who comes over.
Hoping… praying…
But it’s not him. Of course it’s not.
This man is too short. His hair is cropped all over. He’s carrying a clipboard and there are no tattoos to be seen.
“Can I help?” he asks, and he’s so friendly. So nice.
“Sorry?” I ask, as though I haven’t heard his question.
“You looking for something?” he asks. “Need a pallet moving?”
I smile at the absurdity, then shake my head. “No,” I say. “Sorry, I just…” I decide half-honesty is the best policy. “I was clubbing last weekend, I lost my shoe. Shoes.”
“Like Cinderella,” he laughs. “Sorry, haven’t seen any glass slippers lying around.” He looks down at my feet. “Must’ve been quite some walk home.”
“It was.” I find I’m laughing back. “Sorry, this is… crazy.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” he says. “You got a phone number?”
I’m too far embedded in the pretence to back out now. “Sure,” I say, and reach in my handbag for a pen, but he beats me to it. He hands me his clipboard and plucks a pen from behind his ear with a flourish.
I scrawl my mobile number with Abigail over the top. “They’re black. High. Satin.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know if anything turns up,” he says.
I feel like such a fool as I walk away. I’m laughing at my own stupidity as I abandon this crazy errand and opt to head back to the car. Yet, I’m already considering using the cock picture after all before I drive off anywhere.
Needs must.
And I definitely have needs.PhoenixJimmy has a smile on his face when he brings the forklift truck back inside. He climbs down and flashes his clipboard to a couple of the other guys. They laugh.
I don’t give a shit what they’re joking about, just keep on checking generator stock with my head down.
He seeks me out anyway.
“Ain’t seen a glass slipper, have you, boss?” he asks.
“A what?”
He holds up his paperwork. My heart fucking thumps as I see Abigail scrawled on the top. A mobile number.