7 posts tagged “flat”

I swear, Bert is acting so weird ever since I started dating (i.e. ravaging the magnificent body that belongs to) Leo. In his poor, strange (and very mistaken) mind, he likely thinks we're dating or something because we shagged once while drunk. (Well. If I dated everybody I ever shagged, I'd have a much busier life than I do, that is for certain.)

And what is it with Tom, too?! He keeps ringing me up, asking me when I'm available to come over and do something naughty in his kitchen. (I swear, the man is obsessed with kitchen sex. There are other rooms in his flat that are just as good!) He was none too pleased when I told him I had a boyfriend now.

"And he's fabulous." I grinned. "And... large."
"Large?" Tom asked over the phone. "...How large?"
"Quite large."
"...Bigger than me?"
"Oh, Tom," I said with a teasing laugh. "Most men are."
And then he hung up on me. My God. He can be such a baby sometimes.

Apparently, Fran's got herself a new job. Well... a job. She seems to be having a hard time of it lately though. First, her apartment is shrinking because that pervy landlord of his put in a new room beside hers and now she's got a job where she has no idea what's going on. When she was over last night for a chat, she told us about it.

"And there's this guy there... who does nothing but play with his balls all day!"
I stared at her. "Wot? Out in the open? Where everybody can see?"
"No, no," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "He puts his hands in his pockets and plays with them."
Bert winced. "That is disgusting."
Elle looked at him, her eyebrow furrowed. "I caught you doing that just last week, ya silly bugger."
Bert shrugged. "Well, I was in my home, wasn't I? I wasn't at work."
Elle rolled her eyes. "My home. And you don't have a job."
Bert crossed his arms over his chest- not an easy feat in one of my camisole tank tops. "I do too have a job. I have a gig at a comedy club tomorrow there. So there."
I glanced at Elle. "It's karaoke night at that creepy comedy club he made us go to last week."

Leo took me to lunch today. It was brilliant. The restaurant was nice, not too expensive but not cheap, by any means. We went for a walk around Piccadilly and took some photos like some daft tourists. Then we drove in his fancy car to his fancy flat in fancy Notting Hill and made love.

That's right, I said. "Made love."

There was wine, rose pedals in the bath tub, brand new satin sheets, candles, the whole lot. And he even bought me some sexy lingerie to wear while we made love.

Needless to say, it was completely fab. Also, Elle is completely jealous... and, if I'm not mistaken... Bert may be jealous too. But I'm not sure who he's actually jealous of- Leo or me.

I winced painfully into the hot sun, shielding my eyes with my hand. I was wearing my new designer sunglasses (that I stole from Tom's place- his man-girlfriend must have left them there) and a tennis frock that matched Bert and Elle's. Bert was wearing a wig and Elle hadn't even brushed her hair that day.

The only reason I was okay with this whole dressing-alike-in-public thing was because I knew I looked the best of the three of us... Although, I had to admit that Bert's legs were probably nicer and more feminine-looking than my own.

Especially in two-inch heels.

He was going to go with the five-inch but I reminded him that we were playing tennis this afternoon, not tarting around for sex partners. Only then does one wear ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.

Elle had been busy doing something with the sewing machine that morning. I didn't even know she could sew. Turns out, she'd sewn a little pocket into her tennis outfit- just big enough for her flask to fit into.

I rolled my eyes at her and looked at Bert. He sweating like a kettle but seemed quite excited to start.

"Why couldn't you have signed us up for swimming...? Or diving?" I asked Bert.

"Oh, get over it," he said with a shrug. "Tennis is fun! It'll be great! ...As soon as our instructor gets here, we're good to go... Oh, I think that's him now."

I looked over my shoulder... only to see A God In Tennis Shoes walking towards us. My mouth dropped open a little and my breathing stopped and my heart was pounding and knees were weak and my pupils were dialated- all of those reactions a body makes when one wants something. Or, in this case, someone.

Leo

His name was Leo. And he was magnificent.

I spent the afternoon trying to impress him with my skills, all the while flirting with him, pushing my chest out and trying to make myself look better in my frock than Bert. Making myself look seductive, cute and attractive has always been easy for me. But Bert and Elle were not making it easy for me. Elle even stuck her foot out and made me trip once! JEEZE!!

Thankfully, Leo was there to help me up. And by the way he looked at me as I brushed asphalt off my knees, I knew he wanted me too.

Really. Men are so easy to read.

Maybe it was the tennis court. Maybe it was his rippling muscles. Maybe it was the intense heat. I don't know. But if Elle and Bert weren't standing right there, I could've tackled him right then and there. With my thighs, that is.

After our tennis lesson, Bert was quite happy with his improvement and Elle's flask was empty. I told them to wait for me while I used the loo.

I found Leo by some vending machines, downing a bottle of water. Sweat was trickling down his forhead, arms and neck. It made my toes curl just looking at him.

I pretended to be looking at the water bottle machine. "So. What should I get? ...Water, water or... water?" I smiled up at him.

He grinned. "They also have water-flavored water," he said. "It's got a nice, rich... water flavor to it."

I laughed loudly, like all women do when a man they are attracted to makes a lame joke. They always laugh louder than what is necessary. Must be one of those human nature things- like batting your eyelashes or rifling through a man's wallet while he's asleep.

 He took a step closer to me. "Do you have some place you're supposed to be this afternoon?"

"Yes, actually," I said. "Your flat."

 Okay. So, I didn't get to tell Bert and Elle that I wasn't going home with them. I'm sure it was fine. I'm sure they didn't wait that long for me anyway. Leo signed out early, said he was feeling unwell, and we drove to his gorgeous flat outside of Notting Hill. (It's always nice to go home with someone and then find out they have loads of cash. It's comforting.) On the drive to his flat, he told me that his parents wanted him to become a barrister but he enjoyed tennis far too much to finish law school. Turns out he's on the brink of turning pro. He only coaches as a hobby.

That's right. He works as a hobby. He plays tennis as a career. 

If there's a better way to get a woman to strip all her clothes off and shag you seven times, all in different places (and positions) in your apartment, I don't know what is.

And guess what. Leo wants to see me again. He wants to take me out on an actual date.

Could life be any better? I think not.

Maybe karma does exist.

This is the thought that entered my mind as I let myself into Tom's flat, only to see him making passionate whoopie with somebody else on the kitchen table. Here, I thought that doing it in the kitchen was our thing. Apparently not.

"Tom!" I shouted, dropping my purse in shock. All the moisture from my mouth rushed to my eyes as they started to water. "What...? Who...?"

"Oh, shit," Tom muttered.

"Tom?" said the woman he had just stopped shagging. "Who is that?" She slid off the table and pulled her pants back on- leaving her thong on the other side of the room. She was a tall, African-English woman with long pink fingernails and obviously fake eyelashes.

"Well, babe," he said to the both of us. He looked at me. "This is Pamela. I met her at a bar..." He lowered his eyes. "You and I aren't dating. We said we'd keep it unofficial. This was just supposed to be a one night stand anyway."

Pamela glared at him, grabbed her purse and stormed out.

I frowned and pointed. "She forgot her thong."

"That's not hers." Tom winced, realizing what he'd just said. He shrugged. "It's just... I read The Black Man's Guide To Understanding The Black Woman after I saw you reading it and I thought I might try... sleeping with a few black women."

I shook my head. "You can't help yourself, can you?"

"Why are you mad?" he exclaimed. "We aren't together!"

I picked up my purse off the floor. "I'm going home. Bye Tom." I didn't know what else to say. What could I say?

"Well, when will I see you again?" he said as I walked down the hall.

I looked over my shoulder. "Don't be so needy, Tom. It's unattractive."

Back at the shop, I hid away in my hobbit hole of a room and thought about Tom. And Pamela. And Manny. The whole situation was total and utter crap. I'd let myself fall in love with Tom when he felt little for me. Meanwhile, Manny thinks we are soulmates and should be together. If only there was a way to make him feel better...

The idea practically jumped on my head.

I burst from my hobbit hole like... well, a hobbit, I suppose. I ran up to Elle's room, tripping over a box of books on my way up the stairs.

Aww, I thought. Elle looks so peaceful when she sleeps... Oh, well. No time for that.

"Elle! Elle! Elle! Elle! Elle!" I shook her until she woke up.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" she screamed, grabbing my hair and pulling it hard. "Are you a crazy person?!"

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!!!" I screamed. I grabbed her hair and pulled. "You let go and I'll let go!!"

"FINE!"

I took a step away from her. "Right. Elle. I need to ask a favor of you."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said, rubbing her head. "Not after that little... shenanigan."

"It was barely worth being called a shenanigan," I said. "Anyway, you need to go on a date with Manny, pretend you're me and then, at the end of the date, tell him that he's too good for me and that he's much better off without me. Got it?"

"There is not a chance that I would ever do that for you. Ever."

"I'll give you twenty quid."

"Fine." She rolled over in bed. "Wait. Why can't you go on this fake date with the Yeti Man?"

"Because," I said, putting my hands on my hips, "I... am going to Manchester."

Elle blinked at me. "Wot?"

I shrugged. "I like the gay scene up there."

Everything is always my fault.

Now Elise is blaming me for making her move out.  She could have actually told me that all her stuff was in the spare room.  Did she?  Nope.  Typical Elise.

She happily helped Bert move all of his stuff up to the room and to put her stuff in the hall while still completely smashed.

Then she passed out in the kitchen.

After she woke up, she went upstairs to find all of her stuff in the hall, blaming me for throwing her out to let a tranny take over the room.  She threw a stromp like a child and tried ringing up all of her "mates" to try to get them to let her crash at their flats.  She yelled at me a lot, calling me the worst sister, "No, not sister!  SHREW!"  I might be a bad sister, but I'm not an "uncaring shrew."  I told her she could have my room, but she replied, "I'm not sleeping in your grotty ol' shrewwy bed! Twat!" before running outside with to stand in the pissing rain like a git.

"I can find somewhere else to go," Bert offered.

I didn't want him to.  I feel terrible, but I convinced him to stay. I need mates too.  Soon enough the hippie came back.  I've found out that he works with that dirty git Bernard.  After talking to him for a while outside, Elise came storming in, pushed me out of the way, and began to lug her boxes downstairs and out the door.

"Elise don't go!  You can sleep on the kitchen sofa!"  Bad call.

"HA! I'd rather live in a box, Elle!"  Why does she always say my name in contempt?

"Fine!  I'll dig one out of the dust bin for you!"  That went well.

"Do you think she'll be coming back?"

"Get stuffed Bert."

I found out the next day, she was staying at Black Books.  Traitorous slime of the earth.

I marched across the street and threw the door open.  Bernard was drooling all over a pile of books, while customers milled about him.  The hippie entered the store via a curtain at the back, saw me, freaked and darted back behind the curtain.  I called after him and ran through the curtain. I had entered and extremely grubby kitchen where I found the hippie hiding under the table.

"Who are you?" I asked looking under the table.

"Ma-Manny."

"Where's my sister?"

"Upstairs."

"Go get her.  Now."

He nodded and darted out from under the table and up that stairs.  He's pretty fast for a hippie.

That's when the curtain was flung open behind me.

"You!"

I turned around to be face-to-face (again) with Bernard Black.

"Wha'are you doin' in my shop?!"

"I'm getting my sister."

"Wha's she doin' here?!"

"Ask Manny."

"Manny! MANNY!" he yelled in my face.  Manny came hurtling down the stairs (sans sister).

"Yes Bernard?"

"Wha's her sister doin' in my shop?!"

"She's staying here - "

"Oh no she's not!"

"Why hasn't she come down?" I asked.  Manny sighed.

"She said she hates you; go die; and to tell you to piss off."

"ELISE!"  I really didn't get to find out how effective screaming her name was because Bernard grabbed ahold of my arms and drug me out through the shop to throw me out the door and onto the sidewalk, screaming at him and Elise.

He yelled at bit at me and then finally gave up and went back inside.  Fran came strutting down the street and helped me up.

"You really should just stay out," she told me.

"I think he does on purpose!  He's sick and twisted and wants me to come into his shop just so he can throw me out!"  Alright, I was a little smashed.  But just a little.  Fran looked at me oddly, shook her head and went into the shop, as I headed back home.

Later I sat at the desk, thinking and smoking.  It felt good.  If Elise can drink in the shop, I can bloody well smoke in it!

"Are you alright?" Bert asked me, bending down to look me in the face.

"Yeh, I'm fine. Just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"One more question."

"Lay it on me."

"Do you normally smoke four fags at a time?"

I have no sister.

For all these years, I thought I had a sister. But apparently, I was very mistaken.

That person who I thought was my sister is actually a heartless, uncaring shrew. This shrew has also just told me that the room- the room that I just assumed was going to be mine- I slept in last night is no longer mine. The shrew put out an ad for the room and some skirt-wearing, comedy-performing, Eddie Izzard-loving tranny answered it. In fact, his stuff is already in the room while mine is out in the hall, waiting to be moved.

Fantastic.

Now. Not only do I not have a sister, I guess I don't have any friends either. I called up all my mates and not one of them has a spare room I can stay in or sofa I can sleep on. Well, sod it. I don't need mates and I definitely don't need a sister.

While Elle The Shrew was chatting flirting with her oddly attractive new roommate, I stole one of Elle's fags from the desk and went outside, in the pouring rain, to be alone. I hadn't smoked in two and a half years. I had never been truly homeless before. Ugh. All homeless people looked so unnattractive.

I dropped the cigarette butt onto the ground and put it out with my heel. It was just then that Manny from Black Books approached me. He forced his eyes to meet mine.

"Hello," he said, speaking towards the ground. "How-how-how are you doing?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Fine." And how are things going on Planet Zargon?

He peered passed me into the open door of the shop. "What's Elise doing talking to that transvestite?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's Elle. I'm Elise." I frowned. "For God sake, we don't even look alike."

Manny laughed awkwardly. "Right. I was just... I was just kidding, y'know." He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets again.

"Right," I said. "That's Bert. He's stealing my bedroom from me. I've been evicted by my own sister. Nice, huh?"

Manny pretended to be extremely interested and concerned, furrowing his eyebrows in a "I'm-extremely-interested" sort of way and crossed his arms in a "I'm-very-concerned" sort of way. "Well, where are you going to stay?"

"I expect in an alley somewhere." I shrugged. "If I'm lucky, some rat will bite me and I'll die of rabies."

Manny winced in thought. "You could stay at Black Books." His eyes widened as soon as the words escaped his lips. He probably hadn't thought it through very well.

But I jumped at the opportunity. A place to stay was a place to stay.

"Really?" I said. "I mean, that would be fab. It wouldn't be for very long, just until I find another flat somewhere." I smiled at him, that strange-looking man. "I really appreciate this, Manny."

His cheeks turned pink. "It's no problem, really."

I bit my lip. "Bernard won't mind, will he?"

Manny's eyes widened again. "Uh... I'm sure it'll be fine... Just, um, gimme a minute. I'll go clear it with him and we can start moving your stuff over. Alright?" He seemed less than confident in this venture but I didn't dare question his methods. I wasn't in the mood to be abducted by the mother-ship.

I went back inside and started lugging my stuff downstairs so it would all be ready for Manny when he got back. I watched out the front windows, trying to see what was going on over at Black Books. However, the piles of books in front of their store windows made that generally impossible. Manny didn't come back for about half an hour, but when he did came back over, he seemed more chipper than ever.

"Alright," he said, a little hop in his step. "We can bring your stuff over now."

"Bernard was okay with me staying then?"

Manny hesitated. "Uh... Yes! He said it's fine. Come to think of it, he'd like you to stay as long as you like!" He chuckled awkwardly and picked up the largest of the boxes, only to drop it right back down again, directly onto his foot.

It only minutes later that I discovered Bernard Black passed out, his face buried in an old book on his desk, a puddle of drool surrounding his mouth. I grimaced and followed Manny upstairs to my new bedroom. It was fine enough, small but tidy. It then dawned on me- my new bedroom was actually Manny's old bedroom.

"Well, Manny," I said. "Where are you going to sleep?"

Manny shrugged. "I'll just push some chairs together in the kitchen." He bid me good night and left me alone.

As I lay awake in Manny's bed (God. Never thought I'd say that... at least, not this soon, anyway.), staring at the wall, knowing that I would be evicted from this house in the morning- not by Manny, but by Bernard. I knew full-well that he had agreed to nothing.

This is all Tom's fault. I'd still be with Mark if he hadn't opened his big fat gob and told him that we'd slept together.

Sodding men.

Sodding men!!

Stupid sodding, bullocking, prat wankers!! The lot of them!

I went home at the end of the day from the shop to find my lovely, perfect boyfriend Mark and his friend Tom, sitting in silence on the sofa. You could cut the tension with a spork- or whatever utensil you chose to use.

Mark stood up, staring at me. "Elise, Tom and I have been talking."

Oh, shit.

"About what, love?" I asked, playing dumb and stalling for as long as possible.

"Don't worry. Tom told me all about that night when you and I had that fight last month." Mark whole face was motionless and his eyes were fixed on me and burning with anger. Things, at this point, were not looking up for me. "You slept with my best friend? Elise, how could you do this to me? To us?!"

I blinked at me. "...Well, to be fair... your best friend slept... with-with... with me."

Great. I'm almost positive that that was a very bad thing to say.

Mark just rolled his eyes. "I want you to pack your things and get out. I don't want you here in the morning. Is that clear?"

I swallowed. "But Mark..."

Mark stormed out of the flat. I heard my heart pounding in my ears.

Tom just looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. "Fancy a shag?"

After drinking all the wine in the flat with Tom, spilling my heart out to him (like I did the month before) and having drunken "Oh,-I-feel-so-bad-but-this-feels-so-good" sex, I packed up my things and called us a cab.

"Oh," he said when I hung up. "You can't stay with me. My girlfriend wouldn't like that one bit."

I then proceeded to scream at the top of my lungs and hit him as hard as I could. Considering the state of soberness that I was in, it wasn't an impressive beating, to say the least.

So, I told the cab driver to take me to the book shop. I let myself in with my key. I don't think Elle heard me come in, and if she did, she didn't bother turning her light on or anything. I put all my stuff in the second bedroom and crashed on the floor since there were no blankets on the bed.

I wish Elle was awake. I could really use a chat right now. Not like Elle and I have had a heart-to-heart in about ten years. She hasn't been a fan of me ever since I stole her boyfriend when we were sixteen.

Anyway. I'm done with men. I'm into women now. I figure I might as well become a lesbian while it's still in fashion. 

Since Elle decided to stay in a grump for the rest of the day, I left her to glare at work on the computer while I popped to the shop down the street for some crisps. Before I got to the shop, I found myself strolling passed the shop- through a curtain of those annoying door beads so popular in past decades- next to Black Books. It was called Nifty Gifty. I went inside, just to check it out.

Apparently, Elle is an idiot and has chosen we've chosen a poor street to open a business on. Because everybody else on this street is completely mad.

Inside Nifty Gifty was a fit-looking woman with quite nice hair, staring angrily at a large purple orb with a metal spout coming out of the side. Honestly, I had no idea what it was. Something told me that she didn't know what it was either.

"What are you?" she whispered to it. Or at it. I'm not sure- and more importantly, I'm sure I don't care.

"Hello?" I said quietly.

"Oh! Hello!" she said, still holding the... thing. "Welcome to Nifty Gifty. What the hell is this?" She stuck the purple... thing in my face. "Please tell me what this is." 

"Is it some sort of... exercise... thing?" I suggested. "Or a Christmas tree decoration, perhaps?"

The woman wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Were you looking for something?"

"Not really," I said. "I just wanted to come 'round and introduce myself. I'm Elise Whyte. My sister and I just bought the bookshop across the street." I struggled to think of something else to say. "Your shop is really lovely."

"Ohhhhhh," she said. "Bernard's gonna hate you."

I blinked at her. "...What?"

"Never mind." She stuck out her hand. "Fran Katzenjammer."

I hesitated. "I'm sorry. Who is Bernard, exactly? ...And why will hate me?"

"Oh. Right." She smiled awkwardly. "Bernard Black owns Black Books. I'm sure you've seen it. Well, he doesn't fancy the idea of having so many bookshops on the same street. He was hoping that shop would be turned into something useful-" Fran shrugged. "-like a pub."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Well, he can hate my sister too. It was her idea to buy the damn place."

Fran and I chatted for a few minutes before I returned to the shop. Then I forgot about wanting crisps so I left again and came back again. Elle's face was turning redder and redder every second. So, I just went home to my lovely flat and my lovely boyfriend.

Now. If only every aspect of my life was, well, lovely.