My Name is James by Sue Edwards
My Name is James.
And if I'm perfectly honest, which I usually am, apart from telling the odd
porky here and there — I would have to tell you:
I think women are too easy.
Don’t get me wrong, I'm not a bad looking bloke and apart from a few extra
pounds. I don’t have a bad physique for my age, but you’d think I was Brad Pitt the way women behave around me.
I’m quite used to describing myself on various dating websites, so to avoid any confusion I’ll get it over with straight away.
46, Dark hair, brown eyes, cheeky grin, 6’3” GSOH
My biggest problem is women. I love ‘em. . .But what I really want is to fall madly IN love. With one, Just one, and spend the rest of my life, living happily ever after.
You might find that hard to believe, but as I say, I'm honest, and that’s the
God’s honest truth.
Now, if I was the kind to brag, I'd tell you that in seven years I’ve met
knocking on two-hundred women, but being a conservative sort of guy, let’s just say over
hundred.
I'm not too macho to admit that as I step out of the shower and slap on a good handful of aftershave, my heart flutters with anticipation. I am meeting Geraldine for the first time. I slip into a pale-pink, freshly ironed shirt, and with trembling fingers fasten the cufflinks, hoping that she will see me, not as a macho man, but as the mild mannered gentle person that I really am. And yes, I really hope this time it will be different.
“Good luck son. You look very handsome.”
“Thanks Mum.”
It’s not ideal living back with mother, but at the time I had no choice. The family home was left to my ex wife and the baby she was carrying at the time of my departure. I might have coped better if she hadn’t rubbed my nose in the fact that it wasn’t mine.
As I stepped onto the train at Huntingdon I heard a familiar beep, followed by a vibration in my trouser pocket. I reached in and smiled as I retrieved the message.
Hi Hun. Have you left yet? Can’t wait to meet you. x
Hello darling. Just pulling out of Huntingdon. x
We texted each other for the whole three hours it took me to reach Birmingham, and I must admit, as I saw Geraldine standing on the platform, I was not disappointed. I waved from the window, recognizing her instantly from the photo she had sent. She walked towards my slowing carriage, her long blonde hair flowing in her wake.
I think...yes! Maybe…
I greet her respectfully, with a peck on the cheek. I treat all women with the respect they deserve, but one minute we’re sitting in her car chatting, the next minute she has her tongue down my throat and her hand on my crotch.
Come on…what was I supposed to do?
It was then I realised she was just another shag. Geraldine: number seventy-six and my first time in a convertible.
What happened to romance?
It was the same with Kathy from Dover and Sally, from Sussex. Sally was a nice girl, or so I thought, until she got the handcuffs out. I didn’t even have to buy Sally a drink. She was wicked and wild.
The one I really liked though was Miranda from Yorkshire. Now I really thought she was the ultimate one. Oh the beautiful Miranda, I still think of her now, although I try not to...
Miranda…never been married…never had kids. Thirty-six years old, and to say she wasn’t easy was the understatement of the year. Actually, she hadn’t been the least bit interested in meeting. Gorgeous she was. So much so, that It took me a month to pluck up the courage to ask her for a date. Three times she refused. That won her a good few brownie points in my book. She was too good to give up on. The fourth time I asked, she accepted. I was over the moon. I even planned how I would propose. Well, there’s no point in hanging around is there?
Yorkshire was a long way to go for a night out and Miranda was worth more, so I booked a hotel for a week, I thought she was worth getting to know properly. I was well overdue for a holiday, so it worked out perfectly. That was my plan… really get to know her. You know take her out for meals, see a movie and date her properly. After all, Miranda was different.
Or so I thought.
I stepped off the train and breathed a lungful of happiness. It was like stepping straight into an old-fashioned movie. Romance hung heavily in the scented summer air. The station was quaint and beautiful. Small York stone railway cottages turned into waiting rooms, cafes and toilets. Outside the station was a florist. Flowers spilled onto the stone pavement in an array of colour. I knew that a bouquet of a dozen red roses and gypsophila, tied with a big green ribbon would be the perfect gift to present to such a beautiful woman.
Within an hour, we were in bed having wild sex and she’d phoned and cancelled the hotel.
Now you see what I mean by easy, don’t you?
After that, I knew she wasn’t going to be any different. Good as she was, I didn’t think I could trust her. If she’d seduced me within an hour, she could do it to anyone.
I stuck it out though, stayed the whole week and ended up enjoying her company but abandoned any plans I’d had for romance as she’d seemed perfectly happy to spend most of the time in bed.
I couldn’t wait to get home and check my e-mail, see who I will be meeting next.
“Oh James, I have had such a wonderful week,” Miranda said, as I was leaving. “How would you feel if I sold up and moved down south?”
”You can’t do that!”
“Why? You…you do love me don’t you?”
“Well Miranda, to be perfectly honest, since you asked. No. I don’t.”
We had an awful argument. Well she argued, I listened and responded calmly.
“You bastard, you made me fall in love with you.”
“Well actually, I didn’t make you do anything, you were more than willing.”
“But you…you made love to me.”
“No Miranda. If you remember rightly, within an hour of meeting, you’d ripped my clothes off and demanded that I fuck you. That is not exactly my idea of making love to a woman.”
“But...”
“No buts. That’s exactly how it happened.”
“Will I see you again?”
I can’t think of any good reason to put myself through this again; tears, being thumped, and verbally abused. I told her simply...
“If you are ever down my way, sure, give me a call and we’ll have a drink for old
time’s sake.”
“Old time’s sake?” she yelled. “Fuck off! Just get out!”
To say that she wasn’t happy was an understatement. But she had, without knowing, shattered my dreams. Nevertheless, I left without a trace of guilt.
It wasn’t unusual for women to say, ‘I love you’ and within a few days changing it to, ‘hate’ when they couldn’t get their own way.
But strangely enough, I never heard from Miranda again. I didn’t get the usual hate mail, followed by... ‘I’m sorry, can we still be friends?’ If only she’d allowed me stick to my original plan and check into that hotel; I think it may have worked out with Miranda.
I didn’t like women who wanted to jump into bed within an hour of meeting, not for long-term relationships anyway. I was hurt once and I am not going through that again...
I gave up the internet dating two years ago. Miranda was the last. Well when I
say I gave up internet dating — that’s not strictly true. I still go to group
meetings. Talk, eat, and chat to people before deciding that there's no one there that I like enough to date; plenty that I could shag, but I gave that up too. It was turning me into something I really didn’t want to be...
Then Jennifer came along...
There was a local meet in the hotel a few miles away.
I saw her across a crowded room. I knew instantly, I was in love with her. I could feel her eyes piercing through me. I floated across the room, almost ghost-like. My feet hardly touched the ground. It was ethereal…beautiful.
“Hello, I hope you don’t mind me asking. Would you like to dance?”
She smiled, held out her hand and I helped her to her feet. It was as if she’d been sent from heaven. The way her lean arms floated around my neck, sent a shiver down my spine. When the music stopped, I held her hand and led her back to her seat.
“It’s lovely to meet you. I’m James,” I said, raising her hand and planting a kiss.
“Jennifer,” she said with a smile.
I hear wedding bells...I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Well maybe one.
“Have you come far?”
“Humberside. You?”
“Cambridge.”
I got a knot in my stomach when I heard her northern accent. I thought of Miranda.
I felt bad about that.
“What brings you all the way down here?”
“Men, they're such twats up north. I came to see if the men in this part of the country were any better. I’ve heard so much about them, I thought I’d see for myself.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. How long are you here for?”
“As long as it takes.”
She gave me this cheeky grin. I read it as an invitation.
“Would you like to go out tomorrow evening?” She pondered for a while.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“Great! Where are you staying?”
“In a travel lodge near St Ives, do you know it?”
I knew it well. I'm not proud of it, but I’d had many encounters in that place.
“Yes, it’s not far from me. Shall I pick you up around eight?”
“Eight'll be fine.”
“Shall we?”
I lead her onto the polished wooden floor for the last dance of the evening. Her corn coloured hair was pinned up in curls, exposing a very elegant, kissable neck and jaw line. The feel of her black satin cocktail dress beneath my hands brought illicit thoughts to mind. I quickly brushed them aside, and took a small step backwards to give my libido a chance to calm.
Later that night I drove her back to her hotel. Just this once I would have loved for her to invite me back. She didn’t.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late,” she said.
I was about to take my chance and kiss her cheek when she jumped out of the car and slammed the door.
“Phew, she's definitely the one,” I thought, driving away feeling rather flushed, and yes, okay I must admit, being an honest bloke…as horny as hell.
Even though she was late and I thought, she’d got cold feet; when she emerged from the hotel, in a black strapless dress, and a flimsy stole around her shoulders, long blonde hair flowing gently in the cool summer breeze, I knew the wait had been worth it. The apprehension of whether she was going to turn up was all part and parcel.
I was in love.
I felt the lust oozing from my eyes as we chatted and sipped wine by candlelight. There was a psychic ambience. The restaurant was dark purple in décor with matching tablecloths and pure white linen. I imagined, Gypsy Rose Lee, appearing and telling me that I'd met my one and only. Jennifer smelled divine. Her perfume wafted towards me, blending with the exotic aroma of cumin and cardamom. The food was fantastic. And so was she. Unsolicited thoughts rushed through my mind. As I met her gaze, all I could see, was us, just the two of us lying on a beach of pure white sand, the sun drenching our bodies. The only sound was the surf breaking on the shore.
The flickering candle made her blue eyes bluer. God, I wanted her so much. I could have promised her the earth that night.
“I’d really like to see you again Jennifer.”
“I know,” she said, feeding me a piece of chicken from her fork.
“Mmm…tastes good.”
This was how I wanted to treat Miranda, if only she'd let me...
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Is that a yes? Can I see you again?”
“I’ll have to think about it,” she teased provocatively, holding her fork to my mouth with a single pea on the end. I hate peas, but I gratefully accepted it, and enjoyed the fact that her pretty mouth had been around the fork. I rolled the pea around not wanting to bite into it and swallowed hard.
“Are you going to make me beg?”
“Maybe.”
I cast her one of my puppy-dog expressions and thankfully, she gave in. I know nothing of begging, or the desire to.
Jennifer agreed to meet at ten following morning and spend the whole day with me. I wanted to kiss her and hold her in my arms, tell her that I was falling in love with her.
Sleep hadn’t come easy that night. I couldn’t wait to see her again. I began to see forever. I heard wedding bells. I would never let her go…
I woke at dawn full of hope and with the biggest hard-on, I’d ever had. I watched the clock, willing the time to move faster. At 9:30, I set off. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and I was like the cat that got the cream.
I was five minutes early. After three hours, she still hadn’t showed. I thought about getting the hotel to call her room, but I didn’t know her surname. I didn’t even have her phone number. I was so certain that Jennifer would turn up I hadn’t bothered asking for it. I'd been sitting in the car for three hours, and I needed to get home. I had the stiffest cock ever and it was aching like hell.
I had to admit that she wasn’t going to show. Something must have gone wrong. Thankfully, she had my number and she would call later, sure of it. I had to get home. I hoped mother wasn't home. It would've been most embarrassing if she'd wanted to talk while in this condition. I reached over to the back seat and fetched my jacket, which I placed strategically over my arm and let it hang over my offending anatomy.
As I reached the for my door keys, I almost fainted. The pain was excruciating. I made a dash for the loo, unzipped and almost threw up when I saw the size of it. I tried to take a pee, thinking it might ease the pain, but it made it worse. The funny thing was: I didn’t feel aroused.
Mother was out, thankfully she'd gone to one of her friends and she would be there all day. By late afternoon, I thought the damn thing was going to drop off it hurt so much. I had no choice, as embarrassing as it was, I had to get it looked at. The local hospital had a minor injury unit so I popped down there. Once again I took a jacket and held it over my arm.
I walked up to the receptionist.
“Hi, I need to see a doctor.”
“What’s your name?” she asked, without looking up.
“Er…James, my name is James.”
“Surname, James?”
“Harrison.” I knew what the next question was going to be and I was dreading it.
“And what seems to be the problem?”
“Ahem! It’s very embarrassing.”
“It’s okay, James, we see all sorts here.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m forty-six and I sure as hell have never seen anything like this before and I’ve had it all my life.”
“Problem down below?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
“Okay, take a seat, James. The triage nurse will be with you in a little while.”
“Nurse? A woman?” The last thing I wanted right now was to whoop the damned thing out to be inspected by a woman.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be gentle with you.”
I sat down on the chair with the jacket on my lap. Fear did nothing to help. It throbbed and seemed to swell even more. So much so that I thought the blood supply might cut off any minute and gangrene would set in.
“James Harrison?”
“Yes.”
“Follow me.”
To hell with embarrassment. As she closed the curtain, I almost cried.
“What can we do for you?”
I moved my arm and pointed.
“Ooh… are you sure you’ve come to the right place?” she said with a pretty smile.
“Please…I’m in agony.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist it.”
She reached into a cupboard on the wall and pulled out a little white packet, which she unwrapped revealing a white plastic pot.
“Could you manage a pee?”
“Just about, I think.”
“Toilet is second on the left.”
I had a problem controlling the damned thing. Trying to piss in a pot no bigger than a coffee cup with a hard-on isn’t the easiest thing in the world. I presented her with the little pot of piss and she took a blood test.
“If you wait outside, the doctor will call you as soon as we have the results.”
“Thanks.”
I expected a bespectacled old doctor. How wrong was I?
“James Harrison…”
Oh please, no… She was the prettiest doctor I’d seen in my life; Jet-black hair, big brown eyes and a smile that I didn’t need.
I followed her to a cubicle.
“I understand you have a priapism.”
“A what?”
She smiled, “It’s okay. Don’t look so worried. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Phew…that’s a relief. Sounds pretty life-threatening to me.”
“May I?” she gestured for me to drop my pants. “I just need to check the blood supply. Lie on the couch will you?” She poked and prodded, “have you taken anything?”
“I took some Paracetemol earlier.”
“No. I mean have you taken any stimulants?"
"No! I don't take drugs. I certainly don't need any stimulants thank you very much."
I was shocked she even asked.
"We found traces of a chemical substance in your urine called Cantharidin. The drug or substance is excreted by the kidneys and causes inflammation of the urinary tract, which is the reason for the swelling.”
“I’ll give you a steroid injection. That should ease the inflammation. You should be fine within a couple of days. It might be a good idea to think where you have been recently. Could anyone have dropped something in your drink?”
“No, not that I know of. I haven’t been to any pubs or clubs. I had a meal in the Indian restaurant in town last night, but that’s about it. Do you think it could have been something I ate?”
"Highly unlikely. If a whole dish was contaminated with the substance. We would be looking at something a lot more serious. No, I would say this was a deliberate isolated case."
Who could have done a thing like that? They could have killed me.
I spent the following couple of days avoiding mother and wearing tight pants and baggy shirts.
I still hadn’t heard from Jennifer. I thought of going to Humberside and hanging a sheet on the bridge ‘Jennifer. I love you.’ I dismissed it as being a stupid idea and carried on feeling hurt as to why she hadn’t shown.
A week later, I heard a familiar beep on my phone. I read the message...
Now you know what it feels like you dirty rotten bastard...
Sorry? Who is this?
Beep...
She said you were the best thing that ever happened to her.
Who? Who are you talking about?
Beep...
It must have taken a great deal of strength to sleep with you.
Sorry. I’m lost. Will you please tell me what's going on?
Beep...
When she was eleven, she was raped, and she was terrified of men.
Look, you must have the wrong number. Please stop this.
Beep...
Oh no. I have the right number JAMES!
This is not funny. Please tell me who you are talking about.
Beep...
Not so fast buster.
I ignore the last message, hoping this is just a silly hoax, or one of my friends
messing about. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had done it.
Beep...
I don’t think you deserve to know this, but she really loved you.
Who?
Beep...
Thanks to you, you bastard, I have lost not only my sister, but also my best friend.
I’m sorry, but I don’t know what or who you are talking about.
Beep…
“Miranda…”
“OMG…Miranda…is that you?”
Beep...
No! It's Jennifer. Did you enjoy the pea?