Free A Journal of Sin by Darryl Donaghue Page A

it is.’ They clinked glasses.
    ‘I’m going to go out on a limb and say she didn’t deserve you,’ she said.
    ‘Oh come on. Any more clichés for me? Maybe there are plenty more fish in the sea? Or how about the first cut is the deepest?’
    ‘Hey!’ She pushed him on the arm. ‘I was trying to be sweet. Don’t laugh at me.’ She gave a little pout and turned her head away. ‘And that’s not a cliché; it’s a song.’
    ‘Now you’re showing your age.’ He didn’t know whether his confidence was coming from the booze or her naturally relaxing manner, but either way, it appeared he was successfully flirting.
    ‘The cheek. I’m still fit and healthy.’
    ‘You were outpaced by Tom through the woods and he must be just this side of death,’ he said, despite knowing they were both in the same camp on that one.
    ‘And what are you trying to say, young man?’ She winked at him. ‘Don’t be mean about Tom anyway, he comes across as a hard-ass, but he’s a sweetheart really. He helped me out no end when Billy was younger and I needed to work. Plus, I’ll have you know, I’m in better nick than most my age. Plodding through forests isn’t my thing. I prefer to keep in shape in the gym, or running on the beach wearing a lot less than clunky boots and thick jackets.’ The nearest beach was over fifty miles away, but it didn’t stop him conjuring images of her slender body running in a bikini, despite the impracticalities of doing so.
    ‘I’m trying to say sometimes us old boys will surprise you,’ he said, smiling at her and glad to see her smiling back. She removed her leather jacket and placed it on the bar-stool next to her, revealing a blue denim shirt with white popper buttons, the top two looking fit to burst. She sidled up to him. He was surprised at the words coming out of his mouth and remembered a poster he’d once seen that read, ‘Alcohol: Helping ugly people have sex since 1862’, and wondered if that one had been so accurate, what other words of wisdom he’d missed in the corner of that record store.
    ‘You’re not old.’
    ‘I’m older than you.’ He figured that was the stock charming response. She pulled away a little, but not before nudging him in the rib with her elbow.
    ‘Maybe you’re too old.’ Her eyes glanced at his crotch. He laughed in place of knowing how to reply to her overt sexuality, and his penis stiffened at the thoughts sliding into his mind. Not just of sleeping with someone for the first time in a long while, but at picking someone up in a bar of all places. Bars were not an introvert’s friend and, despite trying in his youth, he’d never mustered the courage to even talk to a girl in a place like this, let alone take one home. Especially one that seemed happy doing all of the work.
    He swirled his drink around the bottom of his glass. She slid her foot up the rear of his leg, just inside the bend of his knee, and slowly moved it back and forth. She looked straight at him, smiling a wanton grin, but he didn’t look back. Jenny was at the bottom of that glass, the same place she’d been since the break-up. He’d thought about finding someone else. He’d fantasized about meeting another woman and having crazy, wild, anonymous sex. The thoughts always consisted of a slender woman, only around five feet tall. She’d be at home in her garden and as he walked past her low fence, they’d spy each other. Sometimes, she’d be in an office and they would see each other through the window. In either case, she would invite him in and they’d be fucking in seconds. He would only cum whilst taking her from behind. That was all in his mind. He knew where every step led and that whatever he said, or did, he got the same result: amazing and perfectly performed sex, with no other consequences or concerns to either him or the girl, who courteously disappeared once he opened his eyes, taking any social awkwardness with her.
    ‘I heard he kept tabs on all of us.