Fat face custodian

Yesterday’s little run-in with Zosia left me in an eerie twilight zone of emotional and physical strangeness. A feeling still enshrouding me when Tallulah dropped round at lunchtime to return the effects pedal I lent her.

I answered the door wrapped in an embarrassing black Chinese silk dressing gown someone had once given me for Christmas. I had nowt on underneath. ‘Twas brass monkeys out on the doorstep.

At first, the atmos, like the weather, was frosty.

“Thanks, you know, for being so discrete about the other day,” I began sarcastically. “You told Spanish Andy.”

"I know.”

“Well, cheers for that. Spanish Andy's the biggest big mouth in all of Christendom. Most of North London knows now, including my girlfriend...or rather ex-girlfriend.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah? Really? Well…”

Actually, she had a point. I hadn’t mentioned Zosia to her at all.

Still, I was pissed off that she’d let the cat out of the bag.

"So she found out?"

"Er, yeah..."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. You've probably done me a big favour."

There was a brief break in the conversation, like an empty cartoon conversation cloud. We both just stared at each other.

God she was ugly.

Then Tallulah asked outright if I was going to invite her in.

Probably not a wise move, I said.

Not even for another ding-dong?

I said thanks for the offer, but my life was a tad on the complicated side now and I’d prefer to give it a miss. Actually, maybe it was an idea if she made a move. It was nice to see her again.

She asked if perhaps we could meet some other time?

I was entirely non-committal, shrugging and nodding at the same time, a difficult manoeuvre under the circumstances.

Then she stepped forth to hand over the effects pedal and having done so, stroked the side of my face sensuously for a bit, her puffy red eyes staring at me at point blank range without speaking.

Quite unnerving. More so when she slipped her hands up and inside my dressing gown to clutch my (spectacularly taught) buttocks, dragging me close for a kiss. I fended her off and closed the door on her.

Bit rude, I know, but what can you do?

She knelt down to the letterbox. “Sure I can’t tempt you into a quick blow job before I go?”

I heard her giggle on the other side of the door.

And with that, through the bobbly-glassed front door window, I saw her distorted form made its way out into the street, and shuffle off up the pavement.