WRONG NUMBER?

WRONG NUMBER

By Rosemary Clarke

The rest of the toilet was clean, all graffiti removed, the white paint gleaming; only a silver painted number remained.  Taking a pen from her bag she scribbled it down with some satisfaction then stepped out into the badly lit club: concrete with a bar; an underground lair for underground people. 

The band on stage gyrated in black jeans and logoed  T-shirts, their drinks sprayed over those in front who yelled for more. Jess moved her hand along the wall finding her way up to the brightly lit pub and through the double doors.  She breathed a lungful of sea air walking down the Esplanade towards the town itself.  No buses at this time of night, it was lucky she could walk it.  The houses near the park had now been converted into flats so, turning her key in the lock she pushed the heavy outer door; fortunately, someone had left the small passage light on allowing her to easily find her way up the stone stairs.  Opening her door she switched on the light, settling into her favourite armchair.

Her mobile came out of her pocket.  Glancing at the paper in her hand she keyed in the number.

"Hi, you the guy who has sex and the works?"
A muffled voice, not too sure of himself.
"So what're the works?  Is it like E or fetish or what?"
Again the quiet stammering words roll over each other.
"So where are you?  Where do I come?  I'm like up for that scene."
The phone went dead.

Smiling Jess shook her head and redialled.

"Samuel, I know it's you.  What do you mean leaving your number for anyone to see!  Have you no sense child?  No use you're saying sorry nan, there's plenty who could find you and some nasty pieces of work they are!  Well, you just change your number young man before you do get in trouble and if I see any more of your handiwork I shall tell your mother you see if I don't!"
She cut the call, a pleased smile spreading over her face; only just able to get into a fifteen at the cinema and thinks he's grown up!

She shook her head standing to make herself a nice cup of tea; the young!

Copyright Rosemary Clarke