The Price of a Passport

annie-spratt-466676-2Duncan was a happy IT programmer, and since he married Tatiana his lifetime vocation to become a Nurse had been half fulfilled.

They had met in Cyprus at a late night Hotel Can Can show and tied the knot three months later.  Duncan’s fetish for sexy hands drove him to take Tatiana to the most exclusive Gel Nails salon in Chelsea… after the “bobo” days.

“Bobo days” were what the couple called her period days when Tatiana would be ill, tortured but looked after by her husband like a toddler. This man was a gem.

Nursing Tatiana and checking her vitals every three hours- even at night- was an experience that went beyond love, sex and drug hyper that alllowed them both to start the complicated relashionship again from scratch.  Just like a spiritual self-punishing ritual.

Little did Duncan know that these aches and pains would dissapear with his cosy settled life.

A friend of Tatiana’s from the Russian Embassy had insisted and organised treatment for her condition. An oblivious Duncan paid the ridiculous Physician’s bill thinking he was redeeming her Sins.

So no more “Bobos”. Tatiana launched an online mother’s gifts business from home and her husband started to secretly miss his nursing role.  So the relationship started to go down the pit.

One day before he was about to leave work for the weekend and as he checked his email inbox for the last time, the foundations of his lovely life crumbled down. Tatiana had mistakenly sent a sexy message to him instead of to her lover, Boris, and as Duncan auto-translated the content he stood there frozen and half dead, rereading the translation from Russian in disbelief.

The whole marriage contract was intended to get Tatiana and Boris a British Passport. Nothing else. Duncan had not been making live to this woman, but wotis’ dream working on Boris’ dream of escaping Russian justice with Tatiana.

The betrayed man’s eyes started to water after staring at the screen without blinking.

-“You ok Duncan?” Said the receptionist who was about to leave.

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-“No. It is all a lie. A lie. A Lie! Tell the boss I am sacking myself,  can’t stand this!”

*     *     *

Four months had passed. Duncan was homeless, heart-frozen and he had also made himself amnesic with a little help from alcohol. But he hadn’t forgotten his mum’s landline number, which he dialled everyday from the last phonebox that worked in Lambeth.

He didn’t want to do as she said and come back home and get his life babysitted by her and social services. Just hearing her voice,  and also herself forcing laughter to keep him going was worth the eighty pence call.

After another row with his mum about her never allowing him to study Nursing as he wanted since age ten, he put the phone down on her and went to sit at the Cemetery, on a grave- his favourite spot that resonated with his spirits.

The whiskey was almost finished and the keeper was not there to tell him to bugger off again. He heard a very weird sound. Digging? No. Not digging. Not music.

It was a Drone. A Very funny silver drone which appeared to look like some sort of futuristic fantasy creature.

The drone hovered around him, then landed on the grass. He heard his own voice saying “cheer up Duncan! The bobo will take revenge and come back three times stronger – that doctor was only a Vet! Now take these keys to your country house and sign up for the Adult Nursing Qualification starting in two weeks!”

Had he lost it? His alter-ego talking to him through a Drone?

He got up to take a closer look but the Drone danced its way off.  It had delivered the keys to his Bath second property which Tatiana always viciously insisted on keeping, and a receipt for 5,900 pounds for the local nursing academy. Underneath this was a paper in Russian which he understood was a criminal conviction paper for Boris – and he was going to post it straight to the Home Office.

 

*     *     *

The nursing course was so cool he was wishing it would never end. Having come to terms with betrayal and even joking about it, he couldn’t make up his mind about which student to take on a date.

He finally chose Nora, a girl who bit her nails and was studying to be an expert in Terminaly Ill patients- and who loved Cemeteries like he did.

The Day he took her to the same spot where the Drone Duncan had sent himself back from the Future, he told her his story. As she started to giggle hearing that “nonsense”, another Drone came down from the clouds. This time it was metallic red.

On a screen three kids were taking to her. “Hello mummy! Bring us some Rubick’s Cubes from the past!  We’re waiting for them- you can only get them from antiques auctions in 2026! We love you!”

As a tear dropped from her cheek, Duncan removed Nora ‘s fingers from her mouth and she hugged him so strong, he thought he didn’t want to be anywhere else in time nor space.

“Lets go Nora, I’ve booked you a surprise session at the Nails Salon.”

-“Oh, no, please not today! I ve got terrible period cramps….”

 

The End

More humor here.

The Other Woman

votenow-2-transI am not the jealous type. But what happened to me last Christmas changed my marriage for good.

I had been suspecting her existence for a couple of months -but I didn’t think twice when I was sent to a Seminar in Manchester for a week: “if he’s got to see her he will anyway “.

My marriage with my teenage love was too perfect and I would even say boring for Her not to appear like a flesh Ghost. I hadn’t mentioned her to anyone, all I did was get myself a small cute notepad in Cards Galore, and tracked down the clues she left behind. I secretly enjoyed this and carried on with my life.

But when I got back from that Manchester Seminar and found he was not home, I thought myself a fool. Instinctively I went through the bedroom and en suite bathroom to find a case left behind.

It was a tablet case… with no tablet. All there was inside was a collection of cards I avidly went through one by one. This woman was spoilt, and popular. All cards said something like “free ” or “gift” on them, and there was a handful of VIP business cards too.

My darker side took hold of me and I quickly went to my little home desk and sat down to find a place to hide the treasure.

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“Mother Christmas I shall call her”.

Still trembling with excitement I took a quick shower and undid my luggage. Stan had called to say he had a last minute football ticket given by his colleague and would be back home soon.

Nobody ever reclaimed the little “Christmas present ” but the following months were a new beginning thanks to the cards.

I had used one of the Spa vouchers for an egyptian mud treatment which knocked five  years off my skin complexion . I joined a belly dancing group with her membership card and started to enjoy a kind of sex appeal only celebrities can show off. I used the VIP contacts to make my way through a career change.

And best of all, my wardrobe got revamped and Stan said he couldn’t recognize the “new woman ” I had become. So he took me on a second honeymoon where we finally conceived twins.

While we were there on a drunk night by the fireplace, I confessed my little detective book and so he said She was just a woman he was trying to sign a deal with and who lurred him into intimacy. He said he had set her up with the football fan colleague to get rid of her -and now these two were engaged.

Drunk as he was, he showed me a video of her on his phone where she is shouting at a cabbie in Spanish.

“By the way, can I ask you Jennifer – you don’t happen to have a sugar daddy buying you all this expensive sexy underwear, do you?” And I spilled the whiskey on the sheepskin rug….

 

The End

More humour  here !

Grandma and Grandpa are High

IMG_1814I had always known My Grandpas for their passion for quarrelling. Whether it was the milkshake flavour I would have for breakfast, who was going to drive the Caravan or or what Christmas presents they were to buy my mum, I had child’s wisdom- which told me they loved it.

They were usually brought to sit at opposite ends of the dining table on celebrations.

Now. I had been saved from the five medium bullies on the Estate by fellow classmate Clive Richards. Mum asked me to bring him around the day after, while she and dad were at a Charity Event. Turned out to be Granma and Grandpa had come to our garden to pull out the weeds they loved doing so much.

Clive was teaching me Kung Fu and Grandma was telling Grandpa he had spoilt her crime novel reading by sneaking through the End pages and telling her. Grandpa couldn’t help his devious little smile while he repeated “you’re still madly in love with me and I’m too old for this nonsense Chick”.

It started to rain all of a sudden- one of London ‘s lovely privileges- and all four of us went in into the kitchen.

“How did you two meet?” Asked Clive, surprising me with his interest for the elderly.

” A message in a bottle on the The Canal, forty nine years ago! A waste of a life! I wish I had never opened the bottle and bet you she got someone else to write the letter inside!” Said Grandpa.

” You only picked up the bottle because there were rumours someone was throwing football tickets into the water!”

“The next World War will be for paper! I am a visionary and I even predicted Brexit thirty years ago!”

” Don’t start all that stupid chatter you’ll poison these young minds” Grandma was already preparing a cake.

“Our tools! Lets go get our tools from under the rain!” Cried Grandpa.

“It’s your fault it’s raining again because you were snoring loudly all night!” Off to the garden they went, and I followed them to hold the brolly over their heads.

Clive had been listening to the quarrel all the way and when we went back in he opened up and said he never got to meet any of his grandparents and that he’d like to hear more about the Paper World War”.

After Grandma thanked him from saving me from the Estate bullies the cake was ready.

Now, what on Earth is going on here? Twenty minutes after we started eating the cake and drinking some tea, Granpa is touching Grandma ‘s white locks and crying.

” You look more and more beautiful to me every day Chick and I am so sorry I keep upsetting you all the time, but your mum always wanted you to marry that Officer, and he keeps on asking me after you every time I go to the Newsagents to collect the unsold papers.”

“Oh, Harold! You haven’t spoken to me like this in a lifetime! Why didn’t you clear that extra bedroom we had of all those papers and cardboards, we could have used it for the baby boy I always longed for!”

And they started cuddling, crying and kissing. Clive gave me the same look he had the day he was caught bt the teacher with a cheat sheet in his smartphone. ” Come here Clive” I ordered, not impressed with his counter- bullying skills anymore.

Out on the porch, he looked down and showed me a tiny bag of Hasch. Before I could punch his face for drugging my elders, I heard mum and dad giggling in the kitchen- they had gotten in through the back door- .

Grandma was sruggling to let go of Grandpa ‘s grip and writing something on paper.

“What are you writing, nanny?”

“You’ll see! It’s a message in a bottle!”

“Can we read it?” we all asked.

“Bullied kids’ Barbecue. Meet your future other half while Clive and Sam teach you Kung Fu. Bring this message and old newspapers to be admitted .”

“Do you have any more jars, darling? We’re going to drop twenty of them in the Canal! Hope you don’t mind the mess we’ll make during the Barbecue in your Garden!”

The End.

More humour here!

The Day I Switched To Decaff.

Caffeine hurts, Caffeine drains you, you look nervous. I had heard it all.

Gazing at the infinite coffee lovers’ options at my favourite massive supermarket,  and with time leaking between my nervous fingers, I grabbed it.

A jar of decaffeinated coffee.

” I don’t believe it would be on the shelves if it were bad for you” I said to myself.

In twenty four hours I  were to find out.

Because it was only early afternoon on Sunday I packed some goodies to last me til Monday and decided to spend the rest of my week-end decluttering, then reading my vampire novel… and drinking Decaff.

I even wrote on my smartphone calendar a “good news note” about the new change.

Halfway through chapter six of my novel I realised I was getting a headache and strained eyes, felt drowsy and couldn’t take anything in.

“I will take a bath tomorrow before work”. I forgot to mark the page in my novel. Zzzzz……

Thank goodness I use a loud alarm clock, my good old alarm clock from the eighties, which followed me around the world, through six boyfriends and three redundancies- because I was having a nightmare about London getting flooded with Coffee, and people escaping in huge paper cups and rowing with teaspoons.

I found the bath too hot so I made it a bathspresso. 

Very proud of drinking Decaff, but Heck, where’s that Buzz?!

“I’ll get through this...”

Work is just three blocks away, but on my way I stopped at the ATM. After a seven people queue, I entered my PIN number wrong three times.  Card swallowed. Because I have another pair of cards I just walked away thinking “I ‘ll pay my rent via direct debit like Sasha rightly tells me to”.

We can do this. Even if I’m not quite sure who “we” is, but I needed some back-up then.

 

I had never noticed there’s a Decaff option at the office coffee machine. Stubborn me.

A call. My neighbour Ted yelling. Oh no, I forgot to turn off the hot water tap after my bath! And we were not insured. ” We” again?

Luckily my boss is understanding and I usually don’t call in for too many stickies- so I grabbed my bag and made my way to the bus stop, as Ted was telling me he had recently refurbished his studio flat. So time wasn’t on my side.

“That ‘s a new nice building they’ve just built there!”  This bus was unusually empty so I took a seat and fell asleep while looking outside the window. ” We” weren’t even aware it was the wrong bus.

“Driver! Please let me off! I’ve got a leak at home and am on the wrong bus!”

“Sorry Madame, I  cannot let you off til the next stop. ”

“We’ll get over this Stella”. Was I going mad talking to myself, this time out loud?

As I looked right, Simon was there, pressing the emergency button that opens the door, and pulled me out by the hand.

 

Simon was a summer camp teenage love from Colombia who I had met in the Alpes.

” I still keep all your letters in chocolate box, You look great, just a little sleepy”. He kissed me confidently.  ” Now where ‘s your flat? I will steal a couple of bikes to get there, then we can dump them in front of the Police station like we used to, remember? ”

“We do. I mean- I do”

“Do you still have that alarm clock we used to meet up in the stables at 4 AM?”

I hadn’t realised how far we were from home- I must have really dozed off on that bus. That lucky bus!

Now all I wanted was a double coffee, gaze into Simon eyes and hear his stories.

I don’t know by which exact magic art he happened to have some Colombian Roasted coffee, feather dream-catchers and cafe creme cigarellos. But before there was going to be some fifth gear love making, while being interrupted by Ted the angry neighbour who was still waiting for me to close the tap!

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Extra Cash

Nathan thought he had hit the jackpot with his ingenious idea of making some extra cash. He was living the dream. A groovy basement flat in the heart of Westminster was his day and night office where he trapped the Prey.

Prey?

 

Young singles ranging from age thirty to thirty-five whom he lurred on dating sites to take on a gym membership.

“Why do you want to meet in a gym?” ,they would ask. His profile picture was a fake- such a deliberate fake: a famous boxer’s former ID shot- and the gym receptionist acted as his accomplice,  handing him 80 quid for each membership signed .

Of course, he wouldn’t even turn up on the “first date”, just give a time and address, and a stupid excuse as to why “at the gym”. But that wasn’t the bit he enjoyed the most.

” Sorry I walked away darling, but I saw you from the first floor and was dissappointed to check you were underage. Sorry but it’s my career which is at stake -can’t afford any involvement with the Police. You should find some guy your age,”

Feed an Ego, and it will spit cash.

So all parties were happy. Extra cash to spend on kayaking  over the weekend!

 

But one day Nelly the receptionist gave Nathan a call asking him to bring more male Members. At first he said he couldn’t,  but then found the idea of creating a fake female profile appealing. He took a shot from a girl at the Bank queue.

A City guy said he wanted a stag party and needed half a dozen birds alike, so Nathan started looking for the girl from the local Bank line. He found her. She agreed to go round the corner for coffee despite him being unshaved and  wearing flip-flops.

“I’ve got a naughty confession to make darling” to his surprise, the twenty year-old seemed fascinated. It was love at first sight. Brenda was her name.

 

“Actually sweetheart, she said, my best friend is getting married on the same week and we could all link up, the twelve of us, for a binge night at the Ritz, don’t ask for any further details “.

“Why not?”

“Cos you will be the Runner”.

 

It’s strange the way business ideas can metamorph, but that Saturday night was about the wildest night he could have ever imagined. One of the Stag was so drunk he insisted on putting fifty pound notes down his mouth while the girls undid their hair rollers and started dancing on the table.  He never wished he had his smartphone to record the events so badly, but the stag who seemed to be the boss had told him not to bring any gadgets at all.

 

Dead jealous while Brenda undid the Groome’s tie, Nathan had the time to nick her phone and call Nelly for support.

 

“I got sacked today, Nath. I’ ve got to go. Speak Monday”

“Hang on Nelly. Bring me any sort of decent looking ring and come to this address dressed your best” It was only half one AM.

After the craziest night which included spaghetti sharing, shaving heads and pillow fights, a troubled Investor woke Nathan up and told him about a secret.

He needed to launder three Million.

“Open up a gym then”, said Nelly who was pretending only to be asleep. “Nathan and I can be signed as your business partners. I know everything about launching the top quality fitness centre, and Nathan can fill in the place in a couple of months.  But, Natahan, you must promise me to stop starring at Brenda’s butt- because it’s  just a filler!”

 

The Investor rubbed his hands and cried “ring up a cab- we’re going to my office to sign the deal you two. And leave the kissing for later! ”

The End.

 

 

 

 

Pain Heals Pain

Pain heals pain. This struck her tormented mind with Light.

 

Her cat had been at the Vet’s for almost a week. Memories of an unhappy upbringing had been strangling her throat throughout this time.

Forgiving was materially impossible,  forgetting was a dream and finding some sort of justice would not help a grain of rice.

She had “luckily ” found a stuffed toy to stroke- instead of the cat- the day before.

Outside Agent Provocateur she stood,  trembling under the rain so even her umbrella seemed to be shaking, with a two hundred quid in her pocket which she had kept for six months- for an emergency.

Under the lights of Soho, she knew what she needed. A good painful spanking. And she was about to purchase the nastiest SM outfit, including the Whip.

 

The only way out of Pain is a new kind of Pain.

Because Pain plus Pain equals Pleasure, the same way Pleasure plus Pleasure voids Pleasure.

That’s the wheel of Life.

When she was about to go inside with all sorts of plans of going into the local parlour to entertain strangers, she heard a familiar voice.

“I’ve got exactly what you need here.”

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“An SM outfit and whip for free, plus a good spanking?”  She thought. But Life can bring wishes beyond our expectations, at times.

She turned around. A tall figure with wet hair and loving eyes was smiling at her. It was the Vet.

“Here’s Snowy your cat. I was looking for you. He woke up from his coma this morning but your phone was off. Now darling- you two go back home and please don’t you ever come back to this place.”

A tear of joy danced its way down her cheek as she felt the weight of her comforted cat.

“I won’t.”

The End

That Awkward Moment

That awkward moment. It gets even more frequent as we grow older.

 

Usually involving a middle-aged divorcee: we ask for her age. “How old do I look?” She ventures. Of course, you are not to offend her, as you want her to give you a lift to the airport- and also your new date’s approval.

 

So you subtract twenty odd years from the age she actually looks. And that’s when it all starts. Middle-aged ego boosted, you have to sit there listening to a half-hour pseudo-beauty lecture and confession about her “Secret“.

 

What “Secret”? Can’t she suss out you just lied to her because you feel like your sitting on pins when you’re around her? Or that you need that lift to catch your flight?

 

“I don’t smoke, don’t drink and am a vegan.”

or “Good skin runs in my family”

or even “I use cold water to shower”.

 

But if the lady in question is into Facial Yoga or swimming competitions, you’ll want to stick those pins up her eyes.

 

I have learnt through the years that the best thing to say when stuck in one of these situations is not to lie, or to add ten years to the age she actually looks, to save your head- and precious time.

 

Now the fat divorcee is driving you to the airport, calling you her newly adopted daughter, and making funny faces on the wheel. Facial Yoga. Oh, no! her eyes are strongly shut! And we’re speeding at 80 mph!

 

Not only she’s giving you a Facial Yoga lesson, but it appears like you have offered her a drink, because she’s all high, comparing herself to Nicole Kidman.

 

She’s using phrases like “when I was your age” and boasting about her achievements. You hold your date’s hand tightly as he’s avoiding eye-contact because he’s aware of your discomfort.

 

“Open your eyes auntie, for God’s sake!”

 

When you think the nightmare’s over, and you’re just in time to catch your flight back home, she starts searching into her smartphone to try and give you the link to the YouTube Facial Yoga videos. Just what I needed. And she can’t find them.

 

“Believe me, Facial Yoga will change your life!”

 

“Will Facial Yoga give me an upgrade to First Class?” You badly want to ask.

 

As your irritation is burning your cheeks, you can’t resist anymore:

 

“By the way, how did you get that limp?

 

And your date dumps you. Can’t care less, you’ve spotted a tanned hot surfer at the Check-in queue, he’s smiling at you- and he LOOKS TWENTY-FIVE!

More

I hate meditation

Tuesday. Angry.

 

I haven’t exercised for a week and my do-do list is only half ticked.

 

I’m going to do what they do nowadays, take 12-13 minutes of meditation. By the way, I hate it. So I shall do an experiment. I want to see if meditation will give me creative, practical ideas to sort out my week… because it has already started with a limp.

 

half an hour later….

 

Oh, girl. The ten minutes before the meditation, after I made the strong resolution to sit down and do it, were the best.

 

I must point out, I needed my killer high heels to get myself to do it….

I felt sweetly excited and blissed like by the touch of an Alien. My body became bubble-light, elastic such as chewing gum, and fizzy like lemonade. I didn’t have enough space in my body to host the Oxygen traffic.

 

Dance, fight, knit or work, I can’t make up my mind what I want to do- I’ll do anything that pops in first. I have carried on my research for my project online.

 

Energy is overflowing and a nerve is asking me to Concentrate on a task.

I only meditated for nine minutes. I might be too excited. That makes a change from the gloom and anger I felt yesterday- Monday.

 

I can fix this week now- I’ve got the feeling I will even go beyond that- and embrace all that my spirit desires to get me doing!

 

But two hours later….

 

Had the most upsetting nightmare I’ve ever had: Cannibals got hold of London and enslaved us. It went on for about two hours. I questioned during the nightmare wether it was real, and was so deep into it only the phone ringing saved me.

 

I don’t mind, I want to meditate again tomorrow! This time, with my high heels and make-up on!

 

I whistle

Koala
i can whistle too

I whistle because this minute’s perfect. I don’t know about the next minute to come, or the next after that, but if I whistle, I can hold on to this perfect minute and extend its life-spam.

Something seems to be whistling back at me. No, not something, more than one thing. The cars beeping angrily -ha haha why are these drivers angry?!- The birds telling each other stories about us humans, the Church Bells announcing yet another perfect wedding, and – of course- the smartphone getting messages.

I want to take my music somewhere with me, so I leave my pack of cigarettes behind, get my keys, and not even thinking about where I am off to, I start hoping happily along the corridor, to the stairs. Now this music is The Ticket.

I’m getting better at it. Passers by smile at me- not all of them- and a toddler  has even grabbed my leg.

 

But, what I really want, is somebody to start whistling back at me. That’s the direction I will move towards!

 

If nobody whistles back to me by 5:00 PM, I shall come back to Reality and purchase a pack of cigarettes.