The First Time Available In Full On My Blog
I have decided to publish my collection of short stories, The First Time on my blog as a thank you to my followers. The book is also available in the Kindle store as an ebook, however as it is not enrolled in KDP Select there is no obstacle to me making it available in this manner. I hope that you enjoy reading The First Time.
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THE FIRST TIME
Chapter 1
Becky stirred in horror at her credit card statement. Surely she haden’t spent all that money? Becky scanned the list of transactions for the sixth time.
There was no mistake, the statement was accurate, the outstanding balance was £5321 . “shit” Becky swore outloud. How could she have been so stupid. When
she took out the card Becky had intended it to be used for emergencies only but expensive shoes, a state of the art laptop, a designer label handbag and
enumerable trips to expensive eateries could hardly be classified as emergency purchases.
Becky’s credit limit was £5000 and she had breached that by £321. She looked again. “christ” she owed them £30 for having breached her credit limit.
Becky’s beautiful oval face suffused with tears, her blue eyes usually full of laughter resembled lagoons so full where they of water.
When Becky had graduated from university some 6 months previously with a first class degree in english literature she had never realised just how difficult
it would be to obtain a job. Sure she had a job at her local pub, the Fox which paid £6.08 an hour but even if the landlord, John agreed to allow Becky
to work at weekends (she was already working every week day evening) the additional money would hardly make a dent in that horrendous bill!
“Fuck” her rent was due tomorrow. She owed £500 to the council. How was she going to keep body and soul together?
Becky thought of Julie her friend from university. They where very close and confided in one another about everything. Becky knew that Julie worked as
an escort. They had been out clubbing when Julie’s phone had rung and she had left to “see a client”. Could she sell her body like that? Becky had had
her fair share of one night stands. Her long blonde hair, blue eyes and slim figure made her a magnet for testosterone fueled clubbers. However Becky had
been physically attracted to every man she had slept with. Sure there haden’t been intellectual compatibility in most cases, however the men had been good
looking and Becky had, on the whole enjoyed herself.
Becky was no fool. She understood that being an escort entailed sleeping with men from whom one would, in the normal course of events steer well clear.
Could she sleep with someone who she found physically repulsive? Feeling sick in the pit of her stomach Becky opened her handbag and took out her mobile.
She sat for several minutes the little pink phone nestling in the palm of her hand. Eventualy, fighting back her increasing feeling of nausea Becky sellected
Julie’s number and dialled.
“Hi Becky, how are you?” “Ok. listen Julie I need money desperately, can you …”. “Becks are you sure that this is what you want to do? You know that you
will have to have sex with the clients, you understand that don’t you?” Through her constricted throat Becky’s answer emerged, hardly audible “yes”. “Ok
Becks there is this guy, Mike a regular of mine who has been asking if I know any new girls. He is OK, a bit fat but he has always been polite and he tips
well. Would you like me to ask him whether he would be interested in seeing you?” Becky realised that she had been chewing her lip. She could taste the
tang of blood in her mouth, “Yes please Julie”, again her voice was barely a whisper. “OK Becks I’ll do that but please sweetie think very carefully whether
this is something which you really want to do. Once you are in that flat it is very difficult to back out”. “I understand but I’m desparate Jules, please
help me”. “OK Becks, I’ll call you back once I’ve spoken to Mike”. Becky ended the call. —–
That evening Julie picked up Becky in her car. They drove in silence through the streets the lamps shining on Becky’s pale face. Julie put a gentle hand
on her friend’s arm “Becks are you sure that you want to go through with this? You look ghastly, like something from a Stephen King movie”. Despite herself
Becky smiled weakly “Thanks, I need the money Jules, I’ll be on the street if I don’t pay the rent”.
The car turned into a car park belonging to a nondescript block of flats. “Here we are” Julie said. “do you have condoms becks?” “Shit I didn’t think”!
“Don’t worry take these” Julie said pressing several packets into her friend’s hand.
As they exited the car Becky pulled her long coat close around her slender body. It hid the short mini skirt, the strapless dress and the silk stockings
she had on. As she walked she tetered on the six inch high heels. Becky was a flat shoe sort of girl, she couldn’t get used to these darned things.
On reaching the flat Julie gave Becky’s arm a final squeeze and said “I’ll wait for you in the car park. You’ll be fine but any problems just call”. With
that she turned and walked away. Becky pressed the doorbell. It was opened almost immediately by a balding podgy man in his mid fifties. Becky’s stomach
lurched. This man was almost the same age as her dad. She didn’t find him remotely attractive. Could she go through with this.
“Hi, I’m mike, nice to meet you Becky. Julie has told me a lot about you. Please come in. Would you like a drink? I have wine or beer”. “A glass of wine
would be nice please”. As mike busied himself in the kitchen Becky tried to make herself comfortable on the big leather sofa. The room was full of books.
Shelves full of the classics of world literature stirred back at Becky. “I see that you are admiring my books. Do you like reading Becky”. “Yes my degree
is in english literature”. “Really so was mine although I was at university while you where still in dypers” Mike smiled. “I can tell that you are new
to this game because you haven’t asked me for the money yet. Here it is, £200 for 2 hours”. Becky held out her trembling hand and took the money. She made
a show of counting it but in truth her brain was so full of conflicting thoughts and emotions that she had no idea whether the money was, in fact the correct
amount. Becky wanted to run, to throw the money back at this guy and get the hell out of there but she needed the money. She couldn’t throw away £200.
Becky made a supreme efort. She turned to Mike and asked “what is your favourite Dickens novel”. Once the conversation warmed up Becky began to feel at
ease her relaxation being helped along by the wine which she was consuming in copious amounts. Mike’s hand touched her knee and began to explore further.
“lets go into the bedroom” he said. Becky picked up her handbag and followed him into a clean and well appointed room. There where silk sheets on the king
sized bed and the scent of Bold filled the air. Becky undressed mechanically and lay on the bed. While Mike took his pleasure Becky tried to think of country
walks with her grandfather. She thought of the bluebells in the woods where they used to stroll together. Mechanically she moaned in what she hoped was
a convincing manner and when it was all over she excused herself, rushed into the toilet and was vilently ill. It wasn’t just the wine, it was a feeling
of worthlessness which made her wretch.
“I’m sorry the first time is often the worst” mike said. To Becky he appeared to be genuinely concerned for her welfare but she still wanted to get the
hell out of this guy’s flat. “I’m fine Mike. Thank you for a lovely evening” she said kissing him on the cheek. Once the door had closed Becky ran despite
the high heels. She couldn’t do that again, could she? She was not a mere recepticle for guys to pour themselves into but she needed the cash.
Chapter 2
Becky pulled open the car door and flung herself into Julie’s arms.
Julie hugged her friend close neither girl speaking for several
minutes. “God it was horrible. I can’t believe what I’ve just done up
there” Becky said eventually breaking the silence. Julie could think
of nothing that could serve as anything other than a wholly inane
response to Becky’s distress so kept her peace. “Julie are they all as
awful as Mike”! “Beks there are guys much, much worse than Mike Carter
believe me!” “I can’t believe that Jules!” “Becks I recently saw a
bloke who asked me to dress up in a school uniform and pretend to be
his 14-year-old daughter. He wanted me to call him daddy while he screwed me”. “You told him where to go didn’t you Jules?” Julie looked out of
the window into the dark night for a long time without speaking.
“Lets get you home Becks” she said after what seemed an age.
—-
Becky unlocked her front door and headed straight for the kitchen.
Opening the fridge she took out a bottle of wine (she neither knew nor
cared about it’s vintage, Becky just needed a drink). Grabbing a
coffee mug Becky filled it almost to the brim and took a huge swallow
leaving it almost half empty and Becky fighting for breath. Taking the
remainder of the wine with her she went into the bathroom and placing
the mug on the toilet lid began to run a bath.
She must have dozed because when Becky opened her eyes she found
herself leaning against the toilet bowl with water dripping over the
side of the blue bath tub. “Damn the thing” Becky muttered as she got
unsteadily to her feet. Reaching into the water Becky pulled the plug
out and, when the water level had dropped leaving the bath half full
she stepped into it. God it was hot but Becky didn’t care. Taking a
scrubbing brush she rubbed her skin until her body hurt all over and
the blood came sseeping out. Still Becky could smell the scent of
Mike’s aftershave. His smell seemed to have impregnated her every
pore.
Is this how women react when they’ve been raped Becky thought. She
dismissed the idea almost as soon as it entered her head. She had gone
into Mike’s flat knowing that he wanted sex, she’d taken the money and
had provided “a personal service”, god how she hated that phrase!
Knowing that she had consented didn’t make Becky feel any better, she
loathed herself even more.
Becky got out of the bath and after making a half hearted attempt to
towel herself dry went into the bedroom. Falling into bed she hugged
her favourite teddy bear, Toby bear tight. Toby had been a present
from her grandfather and she treasured him despite his missing right
eye and the ripped left ear. Becky had loved her grandfather and the
feel of Toby’s furry body next to hers made her feel a little less
alone. She would give up escorting once she’d cleared that credit
cardbill and got a job which paid a half decent wage Becky thought as
her eyes began to droop. Mike had been generous. When Becky had
counted the cash she found that he’d included a £50 tip making her fee
for the evening £250 rather than the agreed upon figure of £200. Kind,
sweet Julie had lent her £400 (Julie was doing very well as an escort)
meaning that Becky had £500 to pay her rent with and £150 left for
other expenses. Owing that money to Julie was another reason for
continuing for a while at least in the escort business. As Becky
finally fell asleep her last thought was “perhaps selling one’s body
is not so bad, perhaps, perhaps …”. …
Chapter 3
Becky awoke to a football team practicing in her head. She lay there for several minutes wishing that she could return to the land of sweet sleep but the
insistent throbbing in her temples forced her to get up, she needed headache tablets and strong black coffee. Becky put her feet over the side of the bed
and attempted to stand. The room performed somersaults before her eyes and Becky had to place both hands on the wall to prevent herself from collapsing
on the bedroom floor. Feeling nauseous she rested her head against the wall. gradually the feeling passed and Becky slowly made her way to the bathroom
holding onto the wall as she went.
Opening the medicine cabinet Becky took out a packet of aspirin. She swallowed two tablets with a glass of water. Replacing the glass Becky turned on the
shower and stepped under it’s blessedly cooling spray. She stood letting the cool water sooth her aching head. The shower made her feel a little more human.
Stepping out of the shower Becky grabbed an old dressing gown from behind the bathroom door and ventured into the kitchen. She couldn’t face the thought
of food (her somersaulting stomach warned her that food was not a good idea)! so she opened a new jar of instant coffee, placed a heaped teaspoon full
in a mug and turned on the Russell Hobbs electric Kettle.
Try as she might to block out the recollection, Becky kept seeing Mike’s fat hairy bottom labouring up and down on top of her. She grimaced at the memory
and went across the kitchen to turn off the kettle. As Becky began to pour boiling water into the mug her landline rang. Putting down the kettle Becky
went into her tiny lounge to answer the dratted thing as it’s insistent ringing was making her head redouble it’s throbbing. “Hello”. “Hi Becks it’s Julie.
I tried your mobile but you didn’t pick up so I thought I’d try the landline. Becks I’m going for my HIV test results today. I can’t face going alone.
Can you come with me?” Becky just wanted to have her coffee and return to bed for a while but she couldn’t say no to Julie. Her friend needed her support
and she couldn’t let her down. “Of course I’ll come Julie. What time do you need to be at the clinic?” “11:30″”. Glancing at the clock Becky saw that it
was 10:20 . “I’ll pick you up in 15 minutes, is that OK Becks?” “Yeah that’s fine Julie, see you then”. Becky replaced the receiver and returning to the
kitchen poured water over the instant coffee. She would have to drink it quickly as Julie would be here in 15 minutes.
—
The client rolled on top of Julie and opening her legs thrust forward attempting to penetrate her. “What the hell are you doing? I don’t have unprotected
sex” Julie yelled pulling away from him. “I’m clean, I don’t have anything”! “”Either we use a Durex or I’m out of here”! The man swore vilently but submitted
as Julie rolled a condom down over his erect penis. He mounted her and began to hump away.
Some sixth sense told Julie that something was not quite right. She could feel the guy’s hand fiddling around with the condom. “What the fuck do you think
you are doing?!” Julie jerked her body away but she was to late. The client shot inside her leaving the condom lying like a deflated balloon on the matress.
“You selfish bastard, what the hell do you think you are doing”. “you’ve been paid now just fuck off out of my flat”. Inwardly seething Julie dressed,
left slamming the front door behind her and drove straight home. On entering her flat Julie went straight to the bathroom and washed herself all over paying
particular attention to her vagina. Christ she hoped that soap and water would wash away any poison that arsehole had shot into her.
The next day Julie visited her nearest Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STD) clinic. “You have Herpes I am afraid” the nurse confirmed, “but that can easily
be treated” she went on handing over a bottle of antibiotics to Julie. “I strongly recommend that you return here, in 3 months time for a HIV test. The
virus can take upto 3 months to manifest itself so testing now would fail to reveal the pressence of the virus. I know that it is easy to say but please
try not to worry. You have done the right thing by coming here today to get tested and coming back in 3 months will set your mind at rest”.
Those 3 months where the longest in Julie’s life. When she was out and about socialising with friends she could put her potentialy positive HIV status to
the back of her mind but those long dark nights. Julie lay awake tossing and turning her mind a cauldron of thoughts and emotions. What if I have HIV?
I’ll die in agony. No guy will want to be my partner, they’ll run a mile once they know I’m HIV positive.
—
Julie felt detached from reality as she entered the clinic for her HIV test. “I’m sorry Julie but this may sting a little” said the Australian male nurse.
Julie noticed that he was rather good looking, almost certainly a sportsman with those strong legs and well toned muscles. Christ she thought I’ll be asking
him out next one simply can’t invite someone out on a date in a STD clinic! The thought brought the briefest of smiles to Julie’s wan face. A little prick
and it was all over, Julie’s fate stirred back at her in the shape of a small bottle of red liquid, her own blood which had until a few moments ago been
coursing round her warm and vibrant frame. “The results take a week to come back. The lab will test for antibodies to the HIV virus. If antibodies show
then we will need to do another test to confirm conclusively whether you are HIV positive. Hopefully the test will prove negative” he said giving Julie
a sympathetic smile. Do you have any questions?” Julie shook her head numbly. “OK Julie the receptionist will make an appointment for you to attend in
a weeks time”.
—
An irate man shouted at his equally angry girlfriend “How could you do it? I mean how could you sleep with my father”. The audience clapped in agreement
while the unfortunate partner turned beetroot red. God Becky hated these so-called reality shows where brainless morons could enjoy their pitiful few minutes
in the limelight. How could people wash their dirty linen in public like that Becky pondered. Glancing at Julie she was surprised to find her friend seemingly
engrossed in the show. How could Julie find this mindless drivel interesting? Becky kicked herself. Poor Julie was taking a moment’s restbite from the
thoughts which tormented her and if that solace was to be found in daytime TV what right had Becky to judge her for finding it there.
The Health Adviser entered the waiting room and said “Julie Sanders please”. Slowly Julie stood up and gripped her friend’s arm. “You will come with me
Becks won’t you?” “Of course” Becky said gently squeezing Julie’s hand. “I’ll be there for you Jules whatever happens”.
“This is my friend Becky, I’d like her to stay with me please” Julie said as they followed the Health Adviser into his office. “Of course Julie, no problem,
please take a seat. I’m afraid that our computers are running very slowly today. It may take a little time for me to pull up your records”. The room lapsed
into silence accept for the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of a wall clock. Becky’s eyes fixed on the hands as they crawled around it’s white face. To her
the clock seemed to mock her “your friend will die, you will die, only time remains” it seemed to say.
The Health Adviser turned to Julie. “I’m so sorry Julie but the test results reveal a high level of antibodies to the HIV virus”. Julie opened her mouth
but no words came out. “What does that mean?” Becky asked. “If the body becomes infected with the HIV virus it tries to fight it by creating antibodies.
Ultimately the virus weakens the body’s immunity to disease to a point where HIV develops into AIDS, however with modern drugs many people are living for
longer and are enjoying a good quality of life”. Julie rocked back and forth “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die” she whispered. Becky hugged her
tight. She felt the warmth of Julie’s breath on her face and her eyes pricked.
—
Julie was asleep at last. Becky looked at her friend’s beautiful grey eyes with their long eyelashes and a lump arose in her throat. She went into the bathroom,
laid her head against the cold tiles and wept.
The end
Lucy
When Lucy appeared in Mark’s life eyebrows hit the roof. How could this crusty old batchellor attract a nubile young thing like Lucy Finch. There she stood
just over five feet in height her long black hair framing an exquisitely beautiful face. Lucy’s grey eyes never strayed from Mark’s face while her tiny
hand with it’s ever so perfect little finger nails remained wrapped in his huge rough paw.
“Here comes Mr sugar daddy with his sugar baby” people whispered as they winked covertly at each other. “Surely she isn’t European. She looks like a Thai,
that letch has gone and got himself a Thai bried” others sniggered behind their hands.
These innuendos were not lost on Mark. He glared at anyone he suspected of regarding him with contempt. Lucy on the other hand smiled serenely, whatever
happened her eyes stayed glued to Mark’s face.
No one ever heard her utter a word, “see I told you she is a Thai. She doesn’t understand English. It’s Mark’s money which keeps her here. He has all the
charm of a plank of wood so what other than his fortune makes her stay?The dirty dog who would have thought it? that mark would find himself a young girl
like that. The dirty old man!”
Lucy cooked and cleaned tirelessly. The furniture was polished to perfection and one could see one’s face in the brass candlesticks.
Lucy delighted in pleasing Mark. She rushed to fulfill his every desire. In the bedroom Lucy fulfilled all her man’s desires. Perpetually wearing that
self-same smile she would pleasure Mark beyond what he had ever dreamed as being possible.
When marked yelled at her Lucy’s expression never faltered. She gazed back with the same fixed smile, she could do nothing else for Lucy was a robot.
The Pain Behind the Smile
Isabel pressed the familiar bell and waited with her hands behind her back. The door opened “Hi, Issey” Peter smiled delightedly “come in”. Isabel entered
and closing the door behind her kissed Peter softly on the lips. “This is for you” she said suddenly revealing a gold box done up with pink ribbon which
she’d gbeen concealing behind her back. “What is it?” “Why not open it and see” Issey said a smile playing around her eyes.
“Come through into the kitchen. I need to find some scissors. I can’t wait to see what’s inside”.
Hand in hand they walked into the kitchen. Taking a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer Peter neatly cut the ribbon and opened the box. “Oh Issey
it’s lovely, I wasn’t expecting a birthday cake and it’s my favourite, chocolate cake! Wow it even has 30 candles on it” he said. “Well you are 30 so what
did you expect” Issey said laughing. “Thanks so much” Peter said taking Issey in his arms and gently kissing her neck. “I have a nice bottle of wine in
the fridge, lets sit down and have a glass with that delicious cake! Oh before I forget here is the money” he said handing over an envelope. “Don’t you
want to count it?” “No darling you are my favourite regular, I trust you, lets have that wine”. Isabel meant what she said. As an escort she saw some real
tossers but Peter had always treated her like a lady and over the 12 months or so they’d known one another she had grown rather fond of him. Seeing Peter
was business but it wasn’t a living nightmare unlike some other clients she could think of.
—
Peter poured them both another glass of wine. “so Issey what made you become an escort” he asked the words slurring as he attempted to articulate them.
“So I could sleep with sexy hunks like you” Issey said placing her hand on his right knee. “Please, you never give me a serious answer to that question”.
“I want you Peter, I’m so horney” Issabel said starting to unzip his trousers”. Peter wanted this gorgeous girl so much. He felt himself stiffen as Issey’s
hand found it’s way into his pants, however that nagging question simply refused to go away. “Issey why …”. Issey took Peter’s face in her hands her tungue
expertly exploring his mouth putting an end to any further questioning.
—
It was the same dream over and over again. The room was silent. The young teenager lay in her bed praying “god please don’t let him come tonight. Please
god don’t let him come tonight. The door opened and a figure moved on stocking feet to the bed. “It’s your favourite uncle, Issey loves her favourite uncle.”
Afterwards she lay feeling nothing or, more accurately afraid to feel less she drown in her own sense of shame and disgust. In her hand lay the crumpled
£20 unwanted but she couldn’t throw it away.
“Are you OK Issey?” Peter asked concern showing in his eyes. “Yes I’m OK, I was having a nightmare, sorry if I woke you”. It was half true. She had been
having a nightmare but her whole life was she thought a nightmare of sorts.
Hemlock
The girl approached Malcolm and taking his hand in hers intoned in a soft musical voice “Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love
with easeful death, called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, to take into the air my quiet breath; now more than ever seems it rich to die, to cease
upon the midnight with no pain, while thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad in such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain – to
thy high requiem become a sod”.
The audience, hard bitten venture capitalists all, gaped with wonder at this beautiful girl with her long blonde hair falling in cascades down her back,
at her deep blue eyes and her slender figure.
“OK Professor, the jokes over. Who is this young lady? What is her name?” asked the chairman of the board, Sir Steven Carter.
Professor Steel smiled indulgently and speaking in a manner which he usually reserved for his more obtuse students said “As I explained at the start of
this demonstration the lady you see before you is Becky the first ever truly intelligent robot. Becky is designed for the discerning gentleman, for the
man who wants to be around a beautiful and intelligent lady but who, for whatever reason is not in (or does not wish to be in) a relationship with a flesh
and blood female. Imagine the potential of this invention gentlemen. No more need for the man of means to wine and dine a girl, buy her expensive presents
and (god forbid actually marry her)! If you gentlemen can come up with the finance then your company will be world famous. Imagine being known as the firm
who launched the first ever artificial woman of culture!”
A hand was raised “Yes, the gentleman at the back of the room with the red tie and white shirt”. “Can she er … I mean can Becky do other things”. The Professor
smiled (he smiled a lot but the smile never reached his eyes), “Indeed she can. Becky has a very convincing set of female organs all of which are in perfect
working order. Even gentlemen of culture have their needs and Becky is designed to cater to your, sorry I mean their every whim”.
“I want one” said the chairman. “I’ve often wished to switch off my wife and now this robot has come along it is, at long last possible for me to do just
that”! Miss Mortimer the only female board member looked daggers at the chairman who vissibly shrank in his seat and coloured deeply, “I was only joking,
no offence meant” he mumbled turning as red as the curtains which flanked the stage on which the Professor stood.
Another hand was raised. It was that of Malcolm Fisher the journalist who had been the recipient of Becky’s attentions. “Yes Sir, the gentleman with the
press pass sitting in the front row”. “Isn’t there something sacrilegious about Becky?” “Sacrilegious, what do you mean?” Malcolm thought of Jane, of how
they’d walk for hours in the countryside. One day, as dusk was falling the song of a nightingale had reach their ears. Jane’s eyes had become moist and
turning to Malcolm she said “It’s to beautiful, I want to cry and she quoted those self-same words that that “thing” had just intoned. He’d taken Jane
in his arms and softly kissed away the tears from her gentle brown eyes. With a jolt Malcolm pulled himself back to the present, the Professor was staring
expectantly at him. “I don’t know how to put it accept to say that this invention seems to have crossed some line. Once we have crossed the Rubicon who
knows what will happen”. The Professor suppressed a sigh, “My dear sir man is but a machine. He takes in food to fuel his body and his very mind is but
a highly intricate mechanism for processing thoughts and emotions. Becky is a machine, why should not two machines come together. This invention will enhance
the sum of human happiness by enabling those who can not find (or do not want for whatever reason to find) a human companion and from the perspective of
you gentlemen it will to borrow a phrase mean “loads of money”!
“Well Professor we are certainly very interested in your invention. I’ll discuss it with the board but I’m sure that you will be hearing from us in the
very near future. Many thanks for your informative presentation” said the Chairman.
As he left the building those words of Keat’s popped into Malcolm’s head “As though of hemlock I had drunk”. “I need a drink” he thought turning his steps
in the direction of the nearest pub but perhaps not hemlock.
