closed her eyes she could still see ass hair and excrement. She’d also walked in on the bricklayer Barry Brady receiving a blow job on his lunch hour, not once but twice, and he was a pig about it, winking at her and asking if she wanted to join in, and even thinking about it made her want to go back in time and punch him.
Tom asked her to leave the bathroom while he covered himself up, and he briefly wondered how to dissuade her from coming to his house again.
Jeanette had worked for Tom for four years, and she’d developed a crush on him within a week of her joining his company, and of course he knew it. Before Alexandra went missing, Tom was warm and funny. He was the kind of man and boss who didn’t need to feel that he was superior to those working for him. He’d drop a cup of coffee on her desk as he was passing, always remembering how she took it—no milk, one sugar—and every now and then he’d bring her something sweet. It wasn’t just her—he did it for the others too. In fact, when she thought about it, for a man who ran a profitable company he spent a lot of time making coffee. He would listen to her when she spoke, and he’d tell her what a great job she was doing. He wasn’t available back then, he wasn’t even looking for sex. More was the pity, because Jeanette would have done him on the photocopier week one if he’d asked her.
At least that’s what she’d told her pals Lily and Davey in the pub the night before she’d decided to visit him at his home that first time.
“Uncomfortable,” Davey said, “and technically impossible. He’d be the one doing you, and you’d only be leaning on it. But I suppose you could say that you’d invited him to do you over the photocopier.”
“Shut up, Davey!” Lily said.
“I was only saying.”
“Yeah, well, don’t say. Go on, Jeanette, you’d have done him on the photocopier week one ….”
“Well, that was it, really.”
Lily punched Davey in the arm. “You always do that! Interrupt someone when she’s saying something interesting just to say something totally boring, throwing off the person who actually has something to say!” She punched him again.
Davey rubbed his arm and then said something interesting. “Okay then, elephant in the room: he offed his missus.”
Jeanette didn’t believe it possible. “No way.”
“Of course he did. Nobody just disappears.”
“People disappear all the time, faggot!” Lily said.
Jeanette shook her head. “Nothing could make me believe that he did anything to her.”
“Well, my advice to you is to stay away until we know that for sure,” Davey said.
Lily nodded her agreement. “He has a point. Better safe than headless in a suitcase floating down the Dodder.”
Jeanette had no intention of staying away, and even though the sparkle in Tom’s eye had been replaced with a terrible sadness, God help poor Jeanette, she fell deeper in love.
She waited for Tom to emerge from the bathroom, and when he did and he was clean and his house was clean and there was real food cooking in his oven and she was talking about the job interview she’d just had and looking for some music, he felt normal and calm, and it was nice, if only for a while. When he sobered up, she poured some wine, and they sat together and ate. When they’d polished off the bottle and were halfway through the second, and after she’d served a dessert that neither of them ate, she gazed at him across the table and slowly and hesitantly took his hand in hers.
“What more can I do?” she asked. While retaining his hand, she walked around the table and sat on a chair at his side, and now he was facing her with his hand still in hers, and her other hand was sliding up his thigh. His pulse raced, and her heart was racing too, and she asked him again, “What can I do?” and he was staring into her face and eyes, and the kitchen fell away as he reached for the back of her head and pulled her into him, and they kissed.
The
Tom asked her to leave the bathroom while he covered himself up, and he briefly wondered how to dissuade her from coming to his house again.
Jeanette had worked for Tom for four years, and she’d developed a crush on him within a week of her joining his company, and of course he knew it. Before Alexandra went missing, Tom was warm and funny. He was the kind of man and boss who didn’t need to feel that he was superior to those working for him. He’d drop a cup of coffee on her desk as he was passing, always remembering how she took it—no milk, one sugar—and every now and then he’d bring her something sweet. It wasn’t just her—he did it for the others too. In fact, when she thought about it, for a man who ran a profitable company he spent a lot of time making coffee. He would listen to her when she spoke, and he’d tell her what a great job she was doing. He wasn’t available back then, he wasn’t even looking for sex. More was the pity, because Jeanette would have done him on the photocopier week one if he’d asked her.
At least that’s what she’d told her pals Lily and Davey in the pub the night before she’d decided to visit him at his home that first time.
“Uncomfortable,” Davey said, “and technically impossible. He’d be the one doing you, and you’d only be leaning on it. But I suppose you could say that you’d invited him to do you over the photocopier.”
“Shut up, Davey!” Lily said.
“I was only saying.”
“Yeah, well, don’t say. Go on, Jeanette, you’d have done him on the photocopier week one ….”
“Well, that was it, really.”
Lily punched Davey in the arm. “You always do that! Interrupt someone when she’s saying something interesting just to say something totally boring, throwing off the person who actually has something to say!” She punched him again.
Davey rubbed his arm and then said something interesting. “Okay then, elephant in the room: he offed his missus.”
Jeanette didn’t believe it possible. “No way.”
“Of course he did. Nobody just disappears.”
“People disappear all the time, faggot!” Lily said.
Jeanette shook her head. “Nothing could make me believe that he did anything to her.”
“Well, my advice to you is to stay away until we know that for sure,” Davey said.
Lily nodded her agreement. “He has a point. Better safe than headless in a suitcase floating down the Dodder.”
Jeanette had no intention of staying away, and even though the sparkle in Tom’s eye had been replaced with a terrible sadness, God help poor Jeanette, she fell deeper in love.
She waited for Tom to emerge from the bathroom, and when he did and he was clean and his house was clean and there was real food cooking in his oven and she was talking about the job interview she’d just had and looking for some music, he felt normal and calm, and it was nice, if only for a while. When he sobered up, she poured some wine, and they sat together and ate. When they’d polished off the bottle and were halfway through the second, and after she’d served a dessert that neither of them ate, she gazed at him across the table and slowly and hesitantly took his hand in hers.
“What more can I do?” she asked. While retaining his hand, she walked around the table and sat on a chair at his side, and now he was facing her with his hand still in hers, and her other hand was sliding up his thigh. His pulse raced, and her heart was racing too, and she asked him again, “What can I do?” and he was staring into her face and eyes, and the kitchen fell away as he reached for the back of her head and pulled her into him, and they kissed.
The
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