Resistance is Futile.

Resistance is Futile. 3

Chapter 3. Jerkosaurus Ray.

Somehow Tammy managed to understand my jittery words, that were frequently interrupted by a loud sob, a big sniff or a hiccup. I was sure I sounded like that spoilt child in the supermarket screaming and crying that they want that strawberry lolly-pop on the top shelf and somehow their mothers can understand them. Only, I wanted my virginity back and somehow Tammy could understand me.

"Look, you don't know anything happened yet and there's no point crying over spilt milk. But, I'm pretty sure that if you woke up naked in bed with a hairy, gorgeous naked man that you had sex with him." At this I started to howl again, which prompted her to rub my back and try to console me. Though she'd never been one to mince her words, and usually I appreciated that, the truth wasn't what I wanted right now -even if I needed it. "Look on the Brightside, he was handsome. And even if you were drunk, which obviously you had to have been, you'd never have gone with a guy you didn't like." I nodded at this wiping my nose on my sleeve like the disgusting slob I am -when I was being so critical of George's messy flat I wasn't just being bitchy I was being a hypocrite too. Truth be told I wasn't sure what colour my carpet was supposed to be anymore, it was hidden behind so many layers of clothes. There were so many layers that it wasn't a bungalow or even a two story house anymore - it was a full blown block of flats, maybe even an office building.

Suddenly the thing preying on my mind wasn't my loss of innocence, or the state of my bedroom; it was my lack of attire. What was I going to wear to meet George, and was it a date? It must have been, but I was still a little unsure.

"Do you think it's supposed to be a date?" I asked Tammy, biting my lip as I waited for my answer. 

"No." She deadpanned. My face dropped and I felt dejected. "Ah ha. So you do like him." She said in a self satisfied voice that perfectly matched her self satisfied smile.

"What, no I don't!" I argued, desperately trying to defend myself from her wild accusations.

"Yes you do! When I said I didn't think it was a date your face dropped and you looked so disappointed." She said smiling wide and ending with a little giggle. "Oh, and I do think it's a date. It's a black tie dress code for heavens sake." In reply I muttered a few swear words at her for catching me out, though secretly it made my inner thoughts about George a little clearer. And at least I'd have lost my virginity to someone I fancied -that is if we had sex, of course. "I'm going to make you gorgeous!" She smiled clapping her hands together like a circus seal.

I stood outside his dark green door with the golden hooped knocker beneath the number 143, the paint was peeling slightly at each corner, particularly the bottom right, so I could see the light coloured wood peeking through. My heart was beating erratically with my spiralling nerves and I was wringing my hands with nervous tension. I'd always been shy around boys, most likely due to my complete lack of experience in that area, however I'd never felt so nervous when hanging around with them and now I was just waiting outside his door. I kept worrying what my hair looked like, what he'd think of my clothes or whether I was wearing too much make-up.

I must have stood there counting to ten at least a thousand times, raising my hand in preparation at eight before wimping out, pulling back and wringing my hands again. I straightened my arms at the elbow holding them pressed tightly to my sides and stretching out my fingers. Then I did that weird brrr thing with my lips -it was all in a futile attempt to try and calm myself down. But, nothing seemed to quiet the persistent butterflies fluttering about in my stomach.

It was only when I heard the heavy footfalls on the stairs of someone approaching that I plucked up the courage to knock on his door. Unwilling to be caught stranded in the hallway like a Larry and being forced to make awkward non-committal conversation with a stranger.