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.”[sociallocker][/sociallocker]

“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.