Written by Anonymous
17 Feb 2020
Its a gag
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10 minute read
Michael had been awake for a while but he was in too much pain to move and he was convinced that if he opened his eyes he may just bleed to death. He had obviously been drinking and drinking heavily but he could not for the life of him remember with whom or why. His soggy mash of a brain kept flashing snippets at him of a great deal of celebrating with lots of people he didn’t know.
Michael had had a few things happen to him recently that were worthwhile getting drunk over but none of them involved any sort of celebration. Until yesterday morning Michael was a 26 year old bank teller virgin with chronic self confidence issues and terminal dick worry and now he was a 26 year old unemployed virgin with chronic self confidence issues and terminal dick worry. On Friday the bank where Michael worked had been crushed by a runaway brick truck. The truck had gone through the front wall, over a few customers, through Michael’s teller’s box and over the bank manager. The bank manager had been standing in Michael’s box getting ready to roar at him for being late again but never got the chance. Michael saw the whole thing from across the street where he was waiting for the lights to go green.
To rub salt in to what it has to be said were pretty raw wounds, when Michael dutifully reported to the bank’s head office on Monday morning he was promptly laid off under the guise that they were going to close his branch down anyway and this had just brought it forward a few months. That was less than 24 hours ago so the monstrous hangover that currently consumed him was not so much of a surprise however the fleeting images of champagne and laughter that went with it seemed a little disassociated from his immediate past. He lay there on his side for a while longer and then thought he’d risk having a quick peek at the world.
When Michael opened his eyes a lot of things about his immediate surroundings didn’t make sense to him. As a matter of fact some of things in his immediate surrounding came as a genuine shock. Actually it was only that his neurons were so befuddled and that he had not yet managed to seize control of his limbs that stopped him from leaping vertically out of bed. That he wasn’t in his own room was not that startling although it was a surprise. It wasn’t even that he was in a hotel room that caused his consternation although he had to admit this was odd as well. No, what had knocked Michael off balance was the gloriously perfect silken smooth triangular wedge of a naked woman’s back lying within in arms reach of him. Her skin was so perfect it was nearly translucent and it glowed in the dawn light. The angle of the line from her shoulders to her waist was accentuated by the fact that she was lying on her side and at the base of her spine was a little tattoo that said “Surprise me”.
Bloody hell thought Michael.
Who on earth is this back girl and what was she doing in bed with me and where the hell is this bed anyway? Michael settled himself down; he had to start making sense.
He blinked, deliberately holding his eyes closed for a moment or two before reopening them but she was still there. Michael decided to dig back into the opaque ooze that was his immediate past for clues and he suddenly remembered being in a TV studio.
Why was he in a TV studio? He didn’t have an answer for that but he ploughed on regardless to see if some clarity would come to him later.
He is in a TV studio and he was being interviewed, this also struck him as strange, he’s being interviewed for TV but he is distracted … he is being distracted by the girl operating the boom microphone. The back girl is the boom girl, mystery solved. Now what is her name? No idea, bugger. Michael had recovered from his initial shock and he was now quite keen to wake boom girl (formally back girl) up but he thought he had better remember her name first.
Michael rolled onto his back and the room span around him. Despite the fact that boom girl was evidence that he had had an extraordinarily successful night on the piss it had obviously also been a monumental night on the piss and he fought back a wave of nausea. He decided that lying on his side hurt less then lying on his back so he rolled away from boom girl to collect his thoughts.
Michael’s morning had been short but as short as it had been, there was no doubt it had been jam packed full of surprises however none were more astonishing than the vista that lay before him now. The bed he was in was a colossal size and it stood in front of a floor to ceiling picture window that looked out over the Opera House and straight down Sydney Harbor to the rising sun. Although all of this was in itself truly astonishing it was not what had topped his morning’s amazements. No, what had further rattled Michael and so contributed to his mounting bewilderment were the perfect milk coffee coloured breasts being silhouetted by that rising sun.
It took Michael moment or two to work out what he was looking at. The dawn sun was in his eyes and given the presence of boom girl; boob girl was the last thing Michael expected to find on the other side of the bed. Also his experience of breasts was limited to magazines and his imagination and it had never occurred to him that breasts would be flattened by the inescapable force of gravity but the evidence that this was the case now lay indisputably before him. Michael tried the blinking trick again but boob girl didn’t go away either. Despite the pain it caused, Michael rolled onto his back to contemplate his situation.
Bloody hell thought Michael.
He knew boob girl, she was the girl from the Italian coffee shop near where he worked. Used to work he corrected himself, the bank had been demolished by a truck and they had made him redundant. But how did she come to be in this obviously very expensive hotel room with Michael and boom girl?
For a second Michael wondered if boom girl knew about boob girl and vice versa. He was suddenly convinced that in a moment they would both wake up and beat the crap out of him. He smiled to himself with the absurdity of this and with the vision it placed in his head. He had a very good imagination for such things. What was boob girl’s name? Still nothing.
He decided to continue his chronological journey through the previous evening in the hope that eventually he would make some sense of it all. He also admitted to himself that given his current circumstances there were probably chunks of last night that would definitely be worthwhile remembering. When the TV interview was finished he asked boom girl out and she had said yes.
They never said yes. Why had she said yes? Still no answers.
Anyway, Michael ordered a limo, (now that was odd) and they drove past the remains of the bank so he could show boom girl where he would have been killed if he wasn’t late. Maybe that was why he was being interviewed, because he had nearly been killed? That seemed unlikely. Anyway, Francesca had been walking down the street on her way home from work and he had wound down the window and asked her if she wanted to come and party and she had said yes. Why did she say yes? They never said yes.
Francesca, that was boob girl’s name, “Francesca”, mouthed Michael out loud.
This had the unexpected consequence of stirring Francesca into motion. She rolled over and snuggled into the nape of Michael’s neck draping an arm across his chest and a perfectly smooth Mediterranean leg across his very upper thigh.
Bloody hell thought Michael.
Francesca’s presences overwhelmed Michael’s senses. She worked in a bakery come coffee shop and the first thing that struck Michael was the smell of croissants clinging to her hair but this was slowly being mingled with a more pungent post coital promissory note of sweat and musk that instantly killed Michael’s hangover stone dead. The heat and smell and touch of her body were like a light switch and the great chunks of yesterday evening’s entertainment that Michael had thought would be worthwhile remembering flooded into his memory. He was right, they were worth remembering and Francesca and Tania most certainly knew about each other.
Tania, that was boom girl’s name. “Tania”, muttered Michael.
He was more prepared for Tania’s rollover then he had been for Francesca’s but no less stirred. She too crawled into the nape of his neck and she rested her hand on his abdomen, her thumb stuck in his belly button. Tania’s breast fell onto the back of Francesca’s hand when she rolled over which caused Francesca’s fingers to flex involuntarily. Well initially involuntarily, there was mounting evidence that the movement of Francesca’s fingers was increasingly the result of some conscious thought.
Francesca’s subtle but deliberate manipulation of Tania’s breast had two effects. Firstly it set Tania’s hand to wandering and like a giant hairless tarantula wearing bright red acrylic crampons. It wandered through Michael’s pubic hair in search of Francesca’s glorious thigh. Secondly, it instantly raised what Michael at least thought was a substantial barrier between the tarantula and its prey. Tania’s fingers climbed this wall and lingered long enough to reassure Michael that his role in the upcoming events was likely to be more than just spectator.
This was Christmas thought Michael. No, this was better than Christmas, this was like … and then he remembered everything. He had won Lotto. He had won $13,147, 253 and change. He had gone from despair to ecstasy in the time it took a Lotto ball to tumble 40 centimeters. That was why he was being interviewed on TV, that is why the girls had agreed to go out with him and that was why he was no longer a 26 year old virgin.
Michael was slowly being engulfed by an increasingly relentless mass of magnificence. Francesca’s fingers had left their perch on Tania’s nipple and were currently sliding down Michael’s abdomen in a dedicated and determined manor.
“Bloody Hell”, said Michael and he meant it.
At this Tania and Francesca giggled and closed in on each other over the top of Michael’s chest kissing it as they went. Michael understood that his life had changed in many ways last night and that his current situation was one of the less permanent permutations of his new reality, but he was prepared to accept that. He also realized that it was now going to be extremely difficult to extricate himself from between these two beautiful women without disturbing them so he decided not to try.