He should have logged off before he left but it just didn't work out that way. Busy day, mad day. Being the only capable technician on the mid-shift was ordinarily a source of pride, but there were exceptions to the rule. Today was one of those and he went home a half hour late.
Stephan maximised the window and laughed out loud. David's profile on loveweb.com was there for all to see. He called Pete over and within the hour they had arranged a date for 'gentle-lover' David.
I can't wait to see his face.
Do you not think he'll lose the plot over it?
Nah - Dopey Dave's soft as shite. Besides - he won't even cotton on unless you give the game away.
David scrubbed vigorously in the shower and came out pink and steaming. When he was dry, he sat in his pants and clipped his finger nails over the waste paper basket. He wondered should he take a bag? If all went as planned he might need a few things. Would she be what he was looking for? She said she was blonde and petite but with no photo she could be lying. He was starting to lose faith in the whole procedure: the previous two were no-shows and if this one went the same way he'd be beside himself. Still, it was probably best to be positive. No point meeting her already on a downer was there? She might be the one he'd been dreaming of. David hoped she would open up easy.
He would get there about five minutes early and find a decent seat where he could see the door. He checked his watch and quelled a pang of excitement, put on his coat and picked up the small shoulder bag he'd packed. A thought stopped him. Maybe he should take that tape. It was really nice stuff after all and might help set the scene. If he got lucky.
Fucking bitch never turned up: another monumental waste of his time. David stayed for another pint but his heart wasn't in it. Every face in the bar took on a mocking shadow of complicit sympathy and he'd just noticed a couple of the fitters from work. They took the piss enough in the day and he didn't want to give them further ammunition by moping around half cut and alone. He drank up and walked out.
Pete and Stephan looked at one another and spasmed into a bout of drunken laughter.
Fucking good wind-up. See the look on his face? Priceless.
What kind of bloke can't even pull a bird in real life? Sad bastard.
Probably wouldn't even know what to do with one if he did get his hands on her.
As David huffed along the strip, he adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag. From within came the distinct sound of a scalpel clinking between the jar of paint stripper and the roll of heavy duct tape.
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