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Boo! (short fiction)

“I can't breathe, I can't breathe” – the only thing she could think about, volume up in her mind, not daring to interrupt the tedious background noise of the carrots fast cut in round shapes, for the boiling soup.

“I'm not going to end up old, allergic and… alone. I need to get out, but first to have the courage of looking into the mirror…” Of course, the courage seemed to soar away, her lipstick leaving its traces on the dry lips, as if from memory. She was afraid to meet herself and find reasons to stay at home. “I must have some fun tonight” she made it clear to herself, at last. She wasn't expecting a Prince Charming riding on a white horse, sweeping her off her feet, so she didn't bother to act princess, though helpless she was. The first one approaching her seemed fine: tall enough, good teeth, receding fair hair and most of all, wanting. For the rest, she didn't care. They've danced one time and decided to skip the nonsense. Got to the bar, had a few drinks and decided to skip the talk part, also. What was she to tell him? She didn't imagine a future for them, besides that evening and she didn't really care about his so important – boring job behind some computer screen. She wanted to feel happy at once and thought that luring him towards her place might work. Conversation was dying on them slowly and she tried to look discrete, smiling allusively and whispered words to sweeten the waiting, at the same time revealing nothing of importance.

“Is it very far?” he asked.

“You naughty boy!” she replied mechanically, tritely, intuitive of his fatigue.

The man stopped his hand onto her knee. She giggled. Moaned in her mind. Imagined mean little details that almost gave her the much–needed thrill to make her gasp in a natural way. He sensed it. Probably became aroused, too.

“You know, you feel when a connection is there… it is undeniable” he muttered. Maybe you think of something, me of other things, but the vibe is there, connecting us. You're beau…”

“Oh, sorry to interrupt, we have to get down here.”

The metro stopped.

“Please, go on, I didn't mean to… sorry” she begged a thousand pardons, leading him to her apartment.

He's started getting her attention, by being so… philosophical. It sounded perfectly alright that both of them, strangers, should have different interests, fancies and ways of feeling.

“Just a moment, I'll slip into something uncomfortable” she laughed.

He laughed, too.

“You guys – you all believe us sexy and relaxed at the same time, when wearing strings, these uncomfy threads which cut us deep into the ass…”

Shouldn't have said it like that. Absolutely not! She didn't wish to kill the feeble erotic connection…

“Would you care for some coffee? Tea? Beer? Wine?”

Tea? Oh, Lord, what a fool she was! “Habits… a second more and I'd have warmed milk and put him to bed… all men are the same… put him to bed… that's a good one… must remember it!” she grinned while showering. She hated tobacco stench of the clubs.

Meanwhile, computerese lover stretched over the blue sofa, closing his eyes, probably too tired to look around or too concentrated on what was to follow. He heard a creak of the polished wooden floor and opened his eyes, as in a dream, expecting nothing like the two hairy, stout legs of a…

“Baby Boo”, the woman came in, a bit amazed. ”Why are you out of your bed? Couldn't you sleep? Did you miss mummy? Honey-boy, come here, oh, I'm sorry…”

The gladiator baby looked angry at the newcomer. He had no intention of going to sleep. His tummy stuck forward, defiantly.

“Oh, I'm sorry… I forgot completely… I mean I didn't… I'll just go see about some glasses…”

“It's…” the guest couldn't add anything else, as it was not ok. It was weird.

The baby in shorts ventured the next moment to sit on his lap.

“So, what's up, man? When do we start?”

“Start what?”

“The fun!”

He felt the heaviness of a jealous lover, the official miniature man of the house, guarding possessively the moves of the woman he owned, the mistress of the kitchen in charge with cutting carrots in round shapes for the chicken soups.

“A smoke?”

“Thank you, no” the guest replied, firmly convinced he was hallucinating.

“Come on, don't say no! It's not polite… as it isn't to barge into the home or life of a busy lady… the gladiator gave him a killer stare.

“I beg your pardon?!” the fair haired fellow was trying to overcome perplexity.

“Come, come, you know… anyway, just keep your hands off and your zipper fish zipped.”

“Hey, lady!” the night guest reacted when finally ending his warning sentence, sturdy legs punched him with a steady fist into the cheek, staring at him, beard growing instantly and menacingly, swinging heavily into the desperate man's lap.

“What?” she returned from kitchen, holding a bottle of milk and a glass of something for the other one. “Is he misbehaving? Darling, why don't you come to mama?”

“Yes, yes, go to your mama.”

She threw him the “what is the matter with you?” look.

“Well, he got wet… on my pretty new pants…”

“Oh, oh, allow me, I'll get them cleaned up” she offered jumpily.

“Just leave it alone, I think it's better if I get myself out of here…”

The baby started going scarlet, crying loudly.

“Alright, alright, I'm gone, I'm out… “ the guy mumbled. “I've got it, just shut up… you're the man, yes…”

Stumbling out of the building, the guy swore to no longer to end up Saturday nights with mothers, anyway, not having babies at home, ones that change as chameleons, aiming threateningly at soft spots to punch, babies saying taunting things… oh, what a bunch of perverts!

He felt like having experienced the twilight zone. Maybe it was the drinking, after all.

“Oh, what a… disgusting… a pervert!” she came out of her stupefaction. “Selfish bastard… I'll never… oh, come on baby Boo, don't cry… did the bad man scare you? Mummy is here, I'm here, yes, yes, only for you…”

She went into the small nursery, trying to lullaby the sweetest, pinkest, softest creature of all, her little boy. He smiled preciously and fell asleep instantly, while his young mother kept glancing at his peaceful little mug, happily resigning herself from further having a useless private life.

Copyright © Katiusha Cuculescu, 2005