like. I'm no more qualified to listen than you are, Cathy. We don't try to fix these people. We just offer an ear and sometimes some advice. Usually they just want to use us as sounding boards."
Cathy agreed to meet with Jim after assurances that he wasn't aggressive or lecherous towards Mary during their time together. These assurances were altogether unnecessary, as Cathy had learned to handle such qualities in her previous job, but she feigned gratitude and relief nonetheless. It sounded to Cathy as if Jim was just a bit of a softie.
***
Jim arrived at the Outreach Centre just after half three. His eyes fastened on the new girl. She drank tea from a white mug. She didn't look like the other girls he knew. The other girls wore bleached hair in high ponytails and their skin was more of an orangey brown. The new girl looked like a photo negative; dark brown hair and clear, white skin. Her full lips kissed the rim of the cup with each sip. She put the cup down and smiled. Jim felt his ribs tighten as she looked at him with chocolate button eyes.
"Can I see Mary?" Jim asked. No stuttering. Good man yourself.
"I'm afraid Mary has quite a lot of paperwork to catch up on today and has asked me to stand in for her. I hope that's okay with you. I'm Cathy."
She held out her hand and Jim shook it. She felt soft and smooth. The nicotine stains on his fingers looked ugly and common against the creamy background of her skin.
Jim let his eyes drop to Cathy's breasts. Not exactly Jodie Marsh, but they were a great shape.
"Sweet," he said.
Cathy left her three-quarter-full cup of tea on her desk and led Jim to one of the private session rooms. It was a dingy little space. The off-white walls were bare to minimise distraction and off-topic conversation. The threadbare, brown, canvas sofas belched dust on contact. A small mahogany coffee table sat between the two sofas which were positioned face to face. Cathy sat with her back to the door and waited for Jim to take his seat. When he did, she waited for him to talk.
"So, you're new here," Jim said.
"Yes."
"You like it?"
"Yes."
"Sweet."
He nodded his head for a while, not sure what to say next. He tried smiling at Cathy but got no response. After two awkward minutes, Jim babbled.
"You seem like a good listener. That's good because I'm a good talker, so this should work out well. I mean people are always telling me I need to learn how to shut up, but I'm, like, a good icebreaker. Like, just there now. It was so quiet that it was wrecking my head and I was thinking all sorts of mad shit, like, is she going to just sit here all day looking at me? Is she going to take her top off? Is she mad, or what? But like, you're probably trained to get people to open up to you, and all that shite, which is dead on, but you don't need to play mind games when I'm in the office, because I'm a dead good talker. You just have to ask me what's going on and I'll always just tell you straight. It's the way I am, you know. I'll never change. I'm fucking mad, I am. By the way, you're fit as fuck. I'd love to take you home to meet my ma."
"Well, Jim," Cathy said, "It's nice of you to be so open with me. Unfortunately we now have a working relationship so I'd like to keep that sort of comment to a minimum. Why don't you tell me a little about what's going on in your life at the minute?"
"Oh, right." Jim felt a little disappointed that Cathy didn't jump over the coffee table and rip off his clothes, but still found it within himself to open up to his new sounding board. Cathy took notes as Jim went off on one. It was good to talk. Meant he didn't have to think.
"Well, the past month has been fucking mental for me, I'm telling you. It all started when Tony punched the head off me for mooning wee Tracey when we were having a carry out in Dunville Park. I thought that was a bit harsh, because I was fucked off my head from sniffing on a bag of glue and just got a bit hyper. I didn't mean anything by it.
Cathy agreed to meet with Jim after assurances that he wasn't aggressive or lecherous towards Mary during their time together. These assurances were altogether unnecessary, as Cathy had learned to handle such qualities in her previous job, but she feigned gratitude and relief nonetheless. It sounded to Cathy as if Jim was just a bit of a softie.
***
Jim arrived at the Outreach Centre just after half three. His eyes fastened on the new girl. She drank tea from a white mug. She didn't look like the other girls he knew. The other girls wore bleached hair in high ponytails and their skin was more of an orangey brown. The new girl looked like a photo negative; dark brown hair and clear, white skin. Her full lips kissed the rim of the cup with each sip. She put the cup down and smiled. Jim felt his ribs tighten as she looked at him with chocolate button eyes.
"Can I see Mary?" Jim asked. No stuttering. Good man yourself.
"I'm afraid Mary has quite a lot of paperwork to catch up on today and has asked me to stand in for her. I hope that's okay with you. I'm Cathy."
She held out her hand and Jim shook it. She felt soft and smooth. The nicotine stains on his fingers looked ugly and common against the creamy background of her skin.
Jim let his eyes drop to Cathy's breasts. Not exactly Jodie Marsh, but they were a great shape.
"Sweet," he said.
Cathy left her three-quarter-full cup of tea on her desk and led Jim to one of the private session rooms. It was a dingy little space. The off-white walls were bare to minimise distraction and off-topic conversation. The threadbare, brown, canvas sofas belched dust on contact. A small mahogany coffee table sat between the two sofas which were positioned face to face. Cathy sat with her back to the door and waited for Jim to take his seat. When he did, she waited for him to talk.
"So, you're new here," Jim said.
"Yes."
"You like it?"
"Yes."
"Sweet."
He nodded his head for a while, not sure what to say next. He tried smiling at Cathy but got no response. After two awkward minutes, Jim babbled.
"You seem like a good listener. That's good because I'm a good talker, so this should work out well. I mean people are always telling me I need to learn how to shut up, but I'm, like, a good icebreaker. Like, just there now. It was so quiet that it was wrecking my head and I was thinking all sorts of mad shit, like, is she going to just sit here all day looking at me? Is she going to take her top off? Is she mad, or what? But like, you're probably trained to get people to open up to you, and all that shite, which is dead on, but you don't need to play mind games when I'm in the office, because I'm a dead good talker. You just have to ask me what's going on and I'll always just tell you straight. It's the way I am, you know. I'll never change. I'm fucking mad, I am. By the way, you're fit as fuck. I'd love to take you home to meet my ma."
"Well, Jim," Cathy said, "It's nice of you to be so open with me. Unfortunately we now have a working relationship so I'd like to keep that sort of comment to a minimum. Why don't you tell me a little about what's going on in your life at the minute?"
"Oh, right." Jim felt a little disappointed that Cathy didn't jump over the coffee table and rip off his clothes, but still found it within himself to open up to his new sounding board. Cathy took notes as Jim went off on one. It was good to talk. Meant he didn't have to think.
"Well, the past month has been fucking mental for me, I'm telling you. It all started when Tony punched the head off me for mooning wee Tracey when we were having a carry out in Dunville Park. I thought that was a bit harsh, because I was fucked off my head from sniffing on a bag of glue and just got a bit hyper. I didn't mean anything by it.
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