type. “Why not tell me EXACTLY what you’re better at.”
“I don’t believe this,” says Ben. “This is sick.” But he’s grinning.
“Okay, Honey. You want to know what would happen if you went out on a date with me?”
“Darling, I can’t wait to hear.”
“Well first of all we wouldn’t bother going to a restaurant, I’d want you all to myself at home, so I’d cook a gourmet meal, and we’d eat by candlelight on my terrace overlooking the swimming pool to the sounds of soft jazz playing on the stereo.”
Geraldine makes gagging noises.
“Go on.”
“After dinner I’d lead you into my bedroom and I would give you a massage. I’d unbutton your shirt, and dribble some baby oil on to my palm. I’d warm the oil between my hands and then I’d make you lie on the bed while I slowly rub the baby oil into the smooth, tanned skin of your back.”
“How do you know it’s tanned?”
“Sssh. You’re spoiling the atmosphere. After you’re completely relaxed, I’d move my hands lower, pulling down your skirt until I’m rubbing my palms over your bare buttocks. I’d move lower and lower, pulling your panties down as I go, slipping my hand in between your legs, where it’s warm, dark, and moist with longing.”
“Oh my God! I don’t believe this!”
“What a perv!” shrieks Geraldine.
“Let the guy finish!” says Ben.
“Then I’d turn you over, and slowly stroke the oil on to your bare breasts. Your nipples would be erect by now, aching for me to take them between my fingers and rub them gently.”
Geraldine and I shriek with laughter, and for the first time in my life I stop feeling intimidated by her, and start to think that actually she’s really very nice. Ben doesn’t say anything. p. 48 He’s smiling, but one look at his face and we can tell he wants to hear more. Unfortunately, he won’t.
I sit there and cover my face in mock horror. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say, “this is too horrible,” and I quickly type in, “Okay, thanks for the massage. Must do it again some time. Bye.”
“Sorry. Did I put you off?” Poor Todd, he ’ s blown it and he ’ s hardly started yet.
“Just ignore him,” says Geraldine. “Let’s try someone else.”
“My turn, my turn,” says Ben, reaching for the mouse.
“Hi Suzie,” he types. “I’m Ben. I’m with two female friends. Now it’s my turn.”
“Oh. Okay. How are you, Ben?”
“Good, thank you. But the burning question is, what are you doing with Tim@London, who evidently has no money because he lives in a really grotty area, when you could be with me.”
“Ben!” I start laughing. “Like you live in a palace?”
“Sssh,” he says. “What difference?”
“Are you rich then, Ben?”
“Richer than Tim@London, and better looking.”
“LOL.”
“;-)”
“How do you know what he looks like?”
“Trust me. I know these things.”
“So what do you look like?”
Geraldine groans at me. “God, he’s off. Shall we go and get a coffee?”
And they do. They go downstairs to the cafeteria and leave Ben sitting at the computer, chatting animatedly to Suzie, the babe of his dreams. The babe that’s as different from Jemima as, well, as a typewriter and a computer linked up to the Internet.
Chapter 6
p. 49 I can’t get the bloody Internet out of my head. Truth to be told, I think it’s brilliant, everything. The World Wide Web, the chat forums, the possibilities.
Not that I’m looking for anyone, I mean, it’s me, for God’s sake, the woman who never has any boyfriends, and, although I know what a nice person I am, I’m not the most sociable of creatures. I wish I were, I wish I could be more like my roommates at times, but unfortunately my size dictates my social life, and my size is the one thing I can’t control. I know what you’re thinking, go on a diet, but it’s not as easy as that, I just can’t stop the cravings when they come, and somehow living on the Internet
“I don’t believe this,” says Ben. “This is sick.” But he’s grinning.
“Okay, Honey. You want to know what would happen if you went out on a date with me?”
“Darling, I can’t wait to hear.”
“Well first of all we wouldn’t bother going to a restaurant, I’d want you all to myself at home, so I’d cook a gourmet meal, and we’d eat by candlelight on my terrace overlooking the swimming pool to the sounds of soft jazz playing on the stereo.”
Geraldine makes gagging noises.
“Go on.”
“After dinner I’d lead you into my bedroom and I would give you a massage. I’d unbutton your shirt, and dribble some baby oil on to my palm. I’d warm the oil between my hands and then I’d make you lie on the bed while I slowly rub the baby oil into the smooth, tanned skin of your back.”
“How do you know it’s tanned?”
“Sssh. You’re spoiling the atmosphere. After you’re completely relaxed, I’d move my hands lower, pulling down your skirt until I’m rubbing my palms over your bare buttocks. I’d move lower and lower, pulling your panties down as I go, slipping my hand in between your legs, where it’s warm, dark, and moist with longing.”
“Oh my God! I don’t believe this!”
“What a perv!” shrieks Geraldine.
“Let the guy finish!” says Ben.
“Then I’d turn you over, and slowly stroke the oil on to your bare breasts. Your nipples would be erect by now, aching for me to take them between my fingers and rub them gently.”
Geraldine and I shriek with laughter, and for the first time in my life I stop feeling intimidated by her, and start to think that actually she’s really very nice. Ben doesn’t say anything. p. 48 He’s smiling, but one look at his face and we can tell he wants to hear more. Unfortunately, he won’t.
I sit there and cover my face in mock horror. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say, “this is too horrible,” and I quickly type in, “Okay, thanks for the massage. Must do it again some time. Bye.”
“Sorry. Did I put you off?” Poor Todd, he ’ s blown it and he ’ s hardly started yet.
“Just ignore him,” says Geraldine. “Let’s try someone else.”
“My turn, my turn,” says Ben, reaching for the mouse.
“Hi Suzie,” he types. “I’m Ben. I’m with two female friends. Now it’s my turn.”
“Oh. Okay. How are you, Ben?”
“Good, thank you. But the burning question is, what are you doing with Tim@London, who evidently has no money because he lives in a really grotty area, when you could be with me.”
“Ben!” I start laughing. “Like you live in a palace?”
“Sssh,” he says. “What difference?”
“Are you rich then, Ben?”
“Richer than Tim@London, and better looking.”
“LOL.”
“;-)”
“How do you know what he looks like?”
“Trust me. I know these things.”
“So what do you look like?”
Geraldine groans at me. “God, he’s off. Shall we go and get a coffee?”
And they do. They go downstairs to the cafeteria and leave Ben sitting at the computer, chatting animatedly to Suzie, the babe of his dreams. The babe that’s as different from Jemima as, well, as a typewriter and a computer linked up to the Internet.
Chapter 6
p. 49 I can’t get the bloody Internet out of my head. Truth to be told, I think it’s brilliant, everything. The World Wide Web, the chat forums, the possibilities.
Not that I’m looking for anyone, I mean, it’s me, for God’s sake, the woman who never has any boyfriends, and, although I know what a nice person I am, I’m not the most sociable of creatures. I wish I were, I wish I could be more like my roommates at times, but unfortunately my size dictates my social life, and my size is the one thing I can’t control. I know what you’re thinking, go on a diet, but it’s not as easy as that, I just can’t stop the cravings when they come, and somehow living on the Internet
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