Story

My characters Cecil and Celia met through a dating agency and, while their respective details looked good on paper in reality they'd both told a load of porkies which meant their physical encounter was doomed to failure right from the start. Even so I gave them every opportunity to make good. Cecil was wealthy and Celia good looking, or the other way round if you like, it will make little difference. Both characters had good jobs with excellent prospects and both of them drove expensive and very fashionable motor cars. I concocted a scenario for them for their first date – a quiet restaurant where they could initially meet, with good seats in a West End musical for later on. Both had stated in their profiles that theatre was one of their passions. As it turned out neither could tell a Lloyd Webber musical from a hole in the road but they went anyway and found it a bit of a laugh. I'd arranged for a taxi to collect them after that, and a very nice double room in a good hotel, in the name of Mr and Mrs Smith for the night. Sadly when they arrived at their hotel Cecil was missing his mates so spent rather too long at the bar, while she, in a fit of terrified distraction locked herself out of their room then forgot both the number of it and that Smith was their booked in names.

She discovered him well pickled and in a deep, meaningful conversation with a coffee machine when she found her way back down to the lounge. By the time she'd got the key out of his pocket he was being miserably sick in the lift.

I shouted at him and gave him the chance to make amends, suggesting he called room service and ordered some milky, night time drinks. Things blundered and staggered crookedly onwards from there. She lost an ear ring and he managed to get one shoelace in a terrible knot. I suggested fewer lights in the room, the air conditioning up, the midnight movie on the TV. I might have told them to shower together but as with so many hotels the shower was actually in the bath, which made it awkward. I made him kiss her and made her kiss him before she put too much sugar in his cocoa. All to no avail I might add because by page two the hero had turned into a dribbling wimp and the heroine, unlikely as that may seem, still had her knickers on. If there'd been any chance of reconciliation I am certain I would have given it them, any chance of a bedding, a wedding even, and I most certainly would have made them take it. Even the benefit of the doubt was theirs but they ignored it, her with prim and proper ideas, cast iron hard and rigid enough to kill them both and him spineless, gutless and so uncomfortable in his own skin he might as well have been an amoeba. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?

These were not the characters I'd intentionally invented, these were characters dreamed up by a wayward keyboard and my two hands while I was fast asleep; I would no more name main characters in a story Cecil or Celia than nail anyone to a tree. They went their separate ways after that; she walking tightly, virginally stiff back to her car and he, disjointedly awkward, almost insensibly fearful that he might be queer, back to the pub and his mates. It was all set up, as you can see for this couple, by their very incompetence, to be very well placed to ruin another couple each, without so much as twitching a bra strap. And to prevent such a disasticle happening Cecil must be George you see! George! I've had more than my fair share of Georges! A George will whisk his woman away, down a lane, into the woods, onto the moss under a tree and that will be that for her. She'll walk differently for a while, he'll cut another notch in a branch and all will be well with the earth beneath the tree. Celia has to be Vicky or Jayne, both names which I favour most mightily. There'd be no pussyfooting around with either of them! Jayne would have got all her kit off in a shorter time than it takes to say 'antidisestablishmentarianism' and only then because her tights are, well, everso bight around her tum, and Vicky, who swings both ways and, well I reckon our Cecil would be hard pressed to catch her ever wearing anything much. Jayne would have her pubes smoothly shaved whereas Vicky's would be nicely trimmed, one would have her nipples pierced with gold rings, the other silver bars and studs in her hood and lips. I'll leave it up to you to decide which might be which. All my characters will make love anywhere, whatever the conditions, weather or season and are supremely confident and self sufficient. Vicky has hitch-hiked solo in much of Europe and America and Jayne has managed a secure centre for pregnant under- aged girls. As for George, he is quite a useful man to have around too. He is a hetero type, because some of those Bi-men can be so temperamental, can't they? Nevertheless he can do everything from assisting in the birth of a child to conning a secondhand, ex NASA starship all the way to Proxima Centaurii, with a bit of breadmaking and needlework fitted in in between. I won't make them too fantastically unbelievable, too beautiful, clever or even, unless absolutely necessary, hugely breasted or well hung. They'll just be imaginary characters struggling under the restrictions allotted them and with the torment of knowing that in reality they're no more than little tiny bits of me.

One of the Stories I Didn't Write

Aahlu

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Fri, 2nd April, 2010

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