Page 5 of Great Sexpectations
I back myself into the shadows, behind a heavy jacquard curtain, a little unconvincingly as my proton pack is quite bulky. I watch as they snog each other avidly and with sound effects. The sort you’d hear if someone was eating hot soup.
‘Fuck me…’ she purrs.
Oh dear. No. Not when I’m in the room, Sexy Cat Lady. Put your feline things away. Maybe I should laugh this off. Pretend I’m lost. Or throw them one of my Halloween-themed prophylactics. They glow in the dark. I also have one that’s toffee-apple-flavoured.
‘I want to eat you so bad…’ replies Zombie Face.
Oh, dear. It’s Halloween themed porn. Unless he’s an actual zombie then this could get messy and I think those cushions are cashmere. Either way, I do not want to bear witness to any it. Just close your eyes, Josie. It’s a quickie. They’ll be done in mere minutes. That said, she needs to get those super-skinny wet-look leggings and thigh length boots off, and that will take a while and perhaps some talc.
‘Now get on all fours like a good cat…’
That’s a better line, if predictable. But I do not need to see this. And please don’t get out your… Zombie phallus.
As soon as he undoes his flies, for some reason, I cover my ears. I could just curl up in a ball here and rock on the spot? Instead, I crawl towards the door in stealth Ghostbuster mode. If you snog that loudly, there will be sound effects for anything that follows that may infect my eardrums. I edge towards the door and reach up for the handle. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll…
‘Who the hell are you?’ I suddenly hear a voice say.
Busted. Ghost-busted.
I spring to my feet. Do I turn?
I turn, which was the wrong thing to do as neither of them seem to have any shame that they’re about to have sex in a stranger’s house. This could be my nan’s bed. As soon as I see nipples, I clench my eyes shut and just stand here, not really knowing how to proceed.
‘I’m Josie.’
‘Are you leaving or joining in, Josie?’ the man says, snickering.
The colour drains from my face, my legs turn to jelly and I desperately turn and pat down the door. ‘Umm, not joining… I just… I was sitting in the corner of the room and you came in and…’ I have no spatial awareness at all. I flick the lights on and off about four times looking for the door handle.
‘We can take this somewhere else if this is your room?’ the man asks.
‘Oh, well… no. It’s not my room. Not my house. You crack on… I am going to leave. There’s an en suite there as well, should you need to use it, or…’
Suddenly, I’m also an excellent hostess. Maybe I should get them towels? Breakfast choice menus. I can hear them laughing as I finally find the handle to the door, open it into my face and get my proton pack stuck in the gap. I can actually hear their relief that I’ve chosen not to join in this threesome else someone gets injured.
I close the door and rest my forehead against it.
‘Who the hell was she?’ remarks Zombie Man, amidst inebriated, mean-spirited laughter. A part of me wishes I had the gall to march on in there and tell them to take their naked shenanigans out of my brother’s house, but no, as soon as I hear more sex sounds, I stumble back and land quite elegantly on the floor. On my back. I’m really not my mother’s daughter in that way, I’m not like that at all.
TWO
I should have gone into house music production. It’s basically bass, three notes and a whirring noise like an airplane taking off. It rings in my ears as I lie on the floor of this corridor, spinning my body round my proton pack like an upside-down tortoise trying to roll over. This is elegance personified.
I twist over onto my knees, exhaling loudly. This is why I don’t do parties. At university, I was a ‘drinking in my room/quiet house party’ sort of person, the occasional night out. I’m not dull per se, but I’m not the person swinging off the chandeliers in her knickers at 5 a.m. That was always my friend, Lucy. She did get caught in the chandelier once. I was the one who went in the shed to get a ladder and some wire cutters so we could release her.
‘Stantz?’ a voice says, while I’m still in this dark corridor, squatting on the floor. This isn’t suspicious. Or sexy. Still, whoever just identified me wins points. They know I’m Dan Aykroyd fromGhostbustersand because of that I like them instantly.
I rise from my knees and push myself up, brushing the loose hair away from my face. When I glance up, I look the person up and down and grin immediately.
‘Wow, Spengler,’ I say pointing at him.
The man in front of me has stolen my Ghostbuster look completely, though I do believe his proton pack has been made with some parcel tape, an old hoover hose and a rucksack. It’s basic but adorable. He carries two bottles of beer and smiles back. Man, that’s a good smile.
‘You’re drinking on the job?’ I tell him.
‘Says she who was literally crawling along the floor.’
‘I could sense a supernatural disturbance in the ground, I was just… you know, connecting to it…’
