Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!


How about a hug?

by dither
, 2019-05-27 at 15:18 (2 Views)
He had always found it quite disconcerting when people, strangers, with whom he was not properly acquainted but had seen out and about would smile and say hello, addressing him by name when they saw him. Even at work, people, whom he might never have even seen before, sometimes approached him for whatever reason, calling him by name. He didn't like that. If he was ever in a position where I've been to find somebody he would always ask first," are you Pete Dave Mick whatever" he would just assume, PRESUME. That is how he was.

Dave and his wife had lived in their street for close on thirty years and so, although he couldn't really say that he "knew" anybody, after all that time, sad isn't it, there where people that he recognise sometimes when out then nods, unspoken hellos and how are yous, would usually be exchanged in passing as they went about their daily lives but there was one woman in particular.

Whenever she saw him she would always smile and say " alright Dave? "
There would be a brief exchange of pleasantries they wouldn't even break our stride as they pass each other.
"Yeah, not bad. You?"
" yeah."
And then they'd off on their merry way and he wouldn't given it a thought.

Until a couple of weeks ago.

A new Cheap-store recently opened for business on the edge of town and he'd got into the a routine of doing the short twenty minute walk on Sunday mornings to do a bit of shopping. It got him out of the house, it was a breath of fresh air, good exercise, and it made Monday's shopping trip a bit easier. Well? There was nothing remarkable about that until, a few weeks ago. As he went, pound piece in hand, to get his shopping trolley one Sunday morning, there she was, walking toward him, pushing an empty trolley, on her way to do some shopping. He'd been going to that store every Sunday morning since the place opened and had never seen her there before. That didn't have to mean that she'd never been there on a Sunday morning of course, but it's a fair walk from his street, their paths had never crossed to or from Retail park before, and this time they paused to chat.

"Aright then?"
The usual exchange was played out.
"I'd never shopped here until this one opened, it's not bad is it."."
"Well, the novelty has worn off a bit now, but it was a bit manic when they first opened. I like it, I come every Sunday morning, it get's out of the house."
"Yeah, it's alright."
And that was that.
She did her's, he imagined, he did his, got his shopping done, went home and thought no more about it.

The following week he saw her, leaving her house as he was nearing her house.
"Off to do your shopping?"
She asked, smiling.
He noticed the flowery that dress she was wearing. Everything about her, to him, seemed fresh and well? Bright and breezy. And for a woman of her age that was quite something, he thought. She just seemed totally at ease with...herself, relaxed.
"Yeah, I'm off to do my shopping."
"Mind if I walk with you?"
"You'll have people talking."
He joked.
"Is that a problem?"
Asked she.
Said he.
And so, they, went, shopping.

Dave had never been much of a talker. He was and is, by his own admission, socially inept. Doesn't do small talk, talk for talk sake, and he DID wonder how she'd deal with that. She could take it or leave was his take on it. He am what he is. Very few words were spoken as they walked to the cheap-store but it didn't seem to matter. They collected their trollies then went their separate ways. Was that it? He wondered, feeling somewhat relieved, almost as though he'd survived some kind of ordeal and really, he didn't give it another thought. He set about doing what he always did on a Sunday morning. He went shopping and didn't see her again until it came to checking out. As he stood by the conveyor waiting for his goods to go through he spotted her putting her things into a carrier bag, and then, as he left the store, she was standing on the walkway leading out of car park.

"All done then? Good to go?" She asked.
"Yep, All ready for the walk back."
He felt hesitant, but what could he do?
And so it was.
They had shopped together, more or less. He had much ponder. Where was this going? Did he really need this? "Be careful what you wish for" Sprung readily to mind. Nooo, surely not. Couldn't be, could it? No way.

In recent times, he had often thought how nice it might have been to have one special friend, didn't many men, of a certain age? A woman, again, " of a certain age " who, wouldn't be looking for a man really,but, like him, feel certain cravings bubbling away inside . Someone with whom one could relax with, enjoy their company, and yes, okay, An opportunity to share physical intimacy and not get bogged down with feelings of guilt and or responsibility. Could that really happen? That belonged in the realm of fantasy. That sort of thing doesn't REALLY happen. Does it? But it was so close to home. She knew his wife and she knew that he knew that. The dear, sweet, would do anything for anybody, long suffering Susan, and the wife didn't deserve this. No, surely not. Never in a million years and yet, here he was, stomach churning, scared as hell, and feeling like rabbit caught in the glaring headlights of an on-coming vehicle.

Another Sunday rolled round, and another shopping trip came and went.

" You decided to grow a beard then. You like beards?"
"Nope. I'm just lazy. Can't be bothered to shave."
"Oh. Okay. It could do with a trim."
"Yeah, I know. I just can't be bothered."
"I could trim it for you."
And boy did that one hang in the air.
How was that for a non-committal commitment? A line had been tentatively crossed. It didn't have to "MEAN" anything, but she'd said it, and it was out there.

"I might just take you up on that."
His mind was working overtime. Could it happen? But more importantly, could he get away with it? How might this look? Was it worth risking his life, his marriage, his home, everything. For fling, for lust, for were essentially, nothing more than carnal cravings. His marriage, thought saddened him. David Robert Stephen Jeffers, who'd promised to honour and obey his dearly beloved, a lifetime ago.They were just two people, living alone, together. How HAD it come to this. Why?
He needed time to think. Another week passed by and another Sunday morning dawned. We'd done the shopping trip and were almost home.

"So what about that beard of then?"
She asked as we rounded the corner to our street.
" I don't know, are you sure you Wouldn't mind?"
His wife was working this Sunday. He doubted that the she'd notice anyway.
"I have stuff that needs to go in the fridge here."
I was stalling. She knew it.
"Well, I don't have any plans for the day, it's up to you."
Like she really didn't care either way.
He'd wanted this for so long,but what WAS this precisely? She was offering to trim his beard and maybe that was all she was offering.
"Okay, see you later maybe."
"Yeah, see ya."

Well, he went home, unloaded his shopping. And what the hell he thought, damn it. He got his clippers and walked back down to her house.

She invited him in, as calmly as one would like and made them coffee.
"Are you sure this is okay? Not a bad time?"
"No, it's cool, relax, okay?"
Easy for her to say. THEY drank their coffee, chatted some and then she looked down at my clippers.
"You up for a beard-trim then?"
"Yeah, can do, but there's going to be a mess. It's like cutting wire, the bits go everywhere.
"We can do it outside if you like" He offered.
"No, don't worry about it, I have a dirty old sheet that I can put down, it's not a problem."

"Right, ready when you are. Might as well get you tidied up."
He handed her the case, they talked about how short she was going to cut his beard and where she would like me to sit and how.
"Would you mind if I took my shirt off? Then I can go outside and brush myself down when you're finished."
"Now THERE'S a thought. I could just just take my top off I suppose. Would you mind?"
Would he mind? Would he ephing mind?
"Ohhh my, I don't know about that. I mean look! I might be old but I'm not dead."
That tickled her, made her chuckle.
"Well maybe not then."
I stripped down to my waist, she started clipping and, as I'd cautioned, the bits went everywhere, on himself and on her.
"I'm sorry about your top."
"Oh don't worry about that, it's no biggie, I'll put another one on when we're done."
After a few minutes looking into a mirror and with us both agreeing that she hadn't missed any part of my beard, I stood up, brush myself down, and to my amazement, she calmly put down my clippers, took off her top.
"God it's warm. And it's itchy. Your whiskers I suppose."
I just sat there with my hands on my knees, looking down at the floor.
" Oh dear, am I SO awful to look at?" She teased.
"I don't want to embarrass you."
"Thanks but it's okay."
An uncomfortable, uncomfortable for him, silence lingered and then she spoke.
"We're not teenagers you know, and if you happen to like looking at floppy old sow's ears, well good for you."
Floppy old sow's ears they most certainly were not. He slowly raised his head, determined not to stare. There were signs of a mum-tum but she'd obviously looked after herself and was actually quite slim. And then, oh god, she wasn't wearing a bra. He was stunned. He felt winded, almost as though he'd been punched in the stomach. What to do? What to do? Fear and panic... Fear and panic... What HAD he done?
" They're not Sow's ears."

She moved closer to him, took his hands and rested them on the sides of her body, just above the waistband of her dress. The warmth and softness of her skin sent shock-waves coursing through him. Was he trembling? Nah, he was shivering, obviously, wasn't he? And then, without turning her face to look at him, she said it....

" How about a hug?"...........................​


There are no comments to display.

Blog entry information

Last update

More entries in Creative Writing 101