DIARY OF … (3)

I made friends with a girl at that club where I work. 

She’s an okay girl, she acts tough but she’s really not. How do I know? I helped out with an issue she was having and now she’s crying her eyes out over it. 

She called me 20 minutes ago when she found out what had happened and she had been on the phone with me till just about a minute ago.

Gosh! I felt like slapping her through the phone and shouting “receive sense!” as popularly said on one of my favourite blogs to visit.

She was thoroughly dejected. I don’t know why she’s taking it so hard anyway. She actually wished for it. well not exactly word for word but I knew deep down she wanted something more.

So last week, this girl, I’ll call her T, came to me during my break at the club looking all down and worn. 

I asked if the job was getting to her and she said

“oh no, its just my boyfriend again. He’s being a real ass, you know. Caught him having sex chats with a lady and I confronted him and you know what he told me?”

I shook my head and looked at her with inquiring eyes like I know she wanted even though I wasn’t really interested in what she was saying. I was busy thinking about Tall Dark and Handsome that I hadn't seen in sometime.

“he told me it was my fault!” she continued “hian! can you beat that? My fault! You know why? Because I don’t give IT to him regularly. He’s so disrespectful you know”

“uh huh”  I said

Actually, I don’t know. Nobody has been that disrespectful to me before…well there was this one guy a couple years back but it doesn’t really matter now, he cooling his wandering ass at the bottom of third mainland bridge.

“I just wish I could deal with him, you know” 

T said “you know” a lot. It was very annoying, that alone made me want to smash her over made up face into the wall behind us but I ignored the repetition the best I could.

“why won’t God just help me give him an STD, let him come back to his senses…”

As she continued to rant, I pretended to search for my phone and borrowed hers to dial it. 

It took less than 10 seconds for me to find his name in her contacts and memorise his phone number. 

It was pretty easy actually. She saved his as “honeybun”. 

I smiled, It was all I could do but gag.

When I left work that day, I branched at a call centre, called his line all sultry and all.

Knowing what his girlfriend dished about him, I knew suggesting a random F*** would be my best approach. 

He sounded like he was about to pass out on the phone from excitement. I had given him a taste of it with a little phone s**.

When I was done, I deleted his phone number, paid the lady and walked away to my car at the other side of the road.

A few nights later, he met me up at our rendezvous point. 

I must say, I don’t know what T saw in the guy because he was JUST NOT THERE. I saw him as soon as he parked his 2009 rust bucket. I walked over to the driver’s side of his car in my blue micro mini, cleavage exposing dress and gave him the middle finger

Like the dog his girlfriend has described him to be, he quickly wound own his window and asked if I was “the one”

“should I leave?” I asked him in a no nonsense lets-get-on-with-it manner and quickly he unlocked the doors and asked me into the car.

The car smelled of cigarette smoke and alcohol. It was absolutely disgusting but it didn’t stop me from immediately unbuckling his belt.

“oh God” he whispered in anticipation of what was to come

It was almost hilarious if not for the smell in the car

When I slipped my hand into his trousers, he almost fainted right there in the car. His whole body trembled.

He leaned halfway in his seat and roughly pulled me to him dislodging my hand. Then he buried his face in my exposed chest.

He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he never even saw the slim knife as I took it out of my up do.

I can’t remember how many times I plunged the knife into his back but I think I added quite a few more for irritating me as much as he did.

Some okada guy found him the next day.

So here I am being hounded with T’s cries when I did what she should have done a long time ago.

If she calls me one more time to have a girl to girl talk, I will have to go over to her place and make do on bashing her face into the wall. 

I hate weak people.

...to be continued

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 Stories posted on this blog are fiction and a product of the writer's imagination. They do not refer to any person or persons. Similarities to real life characters are purely coincidental.