Clumsy Romance

I woke up the next afternoon and found to my delight that the bed was
as warm and comfortable as it could ever have been. I stretched
luxuriously, immersing myself in the unwinding pleasure of it. Sunlight
edged around the blind and told me that it was a beautiful day outside,
but the slight breeze ruffling the curtains told me to go back to sleep.
I fell asleep again.

As often happens when one falls asleep during the day, I dreamt
vividly. I dreamt that I was in a car and that a woman was driving me
home. She had brown hair and thin glasses, and green eyes. My head was
leaning against the car window, vibrating with the car, and although my
eyes were closed I could still see her. She was expressionless as she
watched the road and drove. A ceaseless procession of streetlights
played across her body, riding up her taut forearms and playing across
her small breasts, before flitting across her face and disappearing.

Suddenly, although the car was still speeding along, we were at my
little unit. I staggered out and walked through the window like a ghost.
I remembered the woman and looked out. She was standing there by the
driver-side door, saying something, the dashboard lights giving her an
eerie green glow. But oh, she was beautiful. As we both stood there the
sexual longings overtook me and I could feel my prick spasming,
spontaneously ejaculating. But the orgasm itself was oddly hollow.

I awoke and found I had a softening erection, but when I felt the
sheets around me found no damp spots. I lay there for several minutes,
listening to the radio, which had turned itself on to wake me up hours
ago. At last the toilet beckoned me and I obeyed. I walked back to my
bedroom and found it a mess of clothing and books. I walked back to the
bathroom and took a shower.

Halfway through my shower I suddenly remembered something and turned
the taps off, flinging open the door and running to the lounge room. I
scurried my hands over the coffee table, searching. I raced to the
kitchen. I stubbed my toe on the floor and swore profusely. But at that
moment I saw the bit of paper, attached to the fridge by a magnetic
letter B. It read: Jessica. 8344 7886.

I cried at the pain in my toe, but hobbled around in joy nonetheless,
naked.

Once I had eaten some breakfast I took the phone into the lounge room
and stared at it for a while. I picked it up and put it down. I picked
it up again and put it down. I stared out the window. I did my washing
and tried to chat myself up. I took a piece of paper and wrote down dot
points of things that I thought would impress a woman. I picked up the
phone and put it down. I went for a ride on my bicycle.

In a very determined mood, the first thing I did when I got back was
take off my helmet. Then, frightened, I picked up the phone and entered
the numbers. It would most likely be the mach...

"Hello?" said a reluctant female voice on the phone.

"Ahrm, hi!" I said, all too cheerfully.

The conversation went downhill from there, but we awkwardly arranged
to meet the next day at a cafe. I spent the rest of the day cleaning the
house and listening to ABBA and Mozart. I danced.

I dressed up very nicely the next day and hung around outside the
cafe, posing for an imaginary menswear catalogue. At three minutes past
one, I was biting my nails. At five past, I saw her, and I finally
resumed breathing. She was wearing a summer dress with flowers on it.
She smiled hesitantly, and I thanked the Lord that she looked a bit
nervous. We went inside and she ordered a coffee. I don't drink coffee,
so I ordered a milkshake, which made her laugh.

I nervously discussed the weather and then tried to find out more
about her. Did she live alone? She did, but she usually spent a few
months of the year at her parent's house. Did she work? Yes, at a
superannuation firm. I was a little thrilled at that, but it turned out
her company wasn't one of my company's clients. What did she do when she
wasn't working? Non-committal. All sorts. Reading, music, going out. Her
answers tired me, but I liked looking into her eyes as she spoke. She
asked me some questions, to which I gave similarly terrible answers.
Eventually we both stared at the table, occasionally glancing around.

Mustering all my courage, I told her that I really liked her eyes. I
meant to say that they were beautiful, like emeralds, but I just said I
liked them. She smiled and thanked me. It was enough. I asked her if
maybe she would like to see a movie and she sighed and looked away, so I
immediately added an Or, maybe go to the beach some time? I live near
the beach. She agreed, perhaps a little half-heartedly, but she agreed.

I made a joke that I'd better watch out for her coffee this time and
she laughed a little. As we got up, I accidentally knocked over my own
glass. It was empty, but I jerked suddenly to catch it and sent it
flying across the table past her, to smash upon the ground. It broke
into a thousand pieces. By the time I had walked her to her car, twenty
minutes later, our mirth had finally reduced to snuffled chortles. I
snorted a little and she wiped tears of delight from her eyes, shaking
her head. We stood awkwardly for a moment and I stared into her eyes for
an extra half a second. I edged in slightly but she glanced at me
nervously and ducked into her car. But she smiled warmly and waved as
she drove off.

When I got home, I took a stroll down to the local high school oval
and ran across it. My steps were so light, my bounds so great, that I
only touched the ground seven times. Elated, I leapt home in a single
stride and went to bed.

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