Here is the second extract from my short story: Someone To Call Me Tiger. The story is my copyright, however if you would like to publish it please get in touch for my terms and conditions. If you like it please let others know about it. Constructive comments are also welcome.
Extract Two:
Five days later an email arrived from New York. A long, charming email, a ‘hope you are well’ email, an email that brings tears.
‘I am missing you a lot, your chat, your fun, your green eyes, little tiger, your smile, your fingernails, especially your fingernails.
I read it first sitting at my desk with the early morning light sliding in, the blackbirds singing in the garden and the cat demanding breakfast. I wore a pale blue kimono, the one he had so admired and so loved taking off. I closed my eyes and imagined him coming out of the shower, a towel casually around his waist. I felt him against me, against my bottom, back and his hand reaching out around my waist, turning me to face him. His smell intoxicating, his hand caressing, his mouth buried.
I should have felt great about the email but I didn’t. I felt sick. The feeling soon passed as the humdrum of daily life took over. The bin bags had to be put out, the car needed washed, the garden was full of weeds and there was no point in being late for work. I went out my way to be cheerful and polite to everyone, even the double glazing salesman who rang first thing on Saturday morning. I wanted to meet some new friends, well men to be precise. I needed someone to call me tiger.
I thought about the ads in the newspaper personal columns, or even the internet. The sort of thing that comes under the heading; ‘Perfect Partners’. One depressing Sunday morning after eating three bacon rolls, yes three, I lay in bed and turned to the personal columns of Scotland on Sunday.
SINGLE male, 34, likes to travel, enjoys wine, pubs and clubs. Member of a caravan club, Edinburgh, Voice Link No… Caravanning, for God’s sake! Who is going to pick up a babe by admitting that they like caravanning.
INTELLIGENT male, 30, not bad looking, kind, humorous, sincere, a bit shy. Enjoys running, conversation, reading, music, seeks lady 30ish for romance, Edinburgh, Voice Link No… Sounds like he would run a mile from the red nails.
TALL, dark, handsome, male, 36, who can’t stand posers, seeks attractive, slim female for nights out and opportunity to wear Armani suit, Fife, Voice Link No… Who is he trying to kid?
I wondered what I would write in an Ad:
Babe, gorgeous Angelina Joli looks, classy red painted fingernails, looking for a male who likes a tiger, who wants champagne drizzled over various parts of his body, Edinburgh, Voice Link No…
Oh, why bother? ‘Who the hell writes these ads anyway,’ I thought and went to get another bacon roll.