Clutching the scrap of paper that had been handed to me last night and wondering what the hell I was doing here I tapped three hard short knocks on the door, lamenting to the shop bought Christmas wreath that 'yes it was that time of year again'.
When approached last night I had been in a terrible mood, whether this was obvious or not I have no idea, presumably, it was written in capitals across my chest as the only person who approached me was the stranger who gave me this paper and disappeared back into the frosty night.
Around the Christmas period (before and after) I suggest that there are three types of people; A) Those like the miser scrooge; This type dread Christmas with a 'bah-humbug' type of attitude; B) Those who are like excitable children; Counting down the days from the start of advent to the big day in a hyper active, impenetrable vortex and C) Those who have no one and no body to celebrate with and so mimic the characteristics of the first person I mentioned.
I fall somewhere in between numbers one and three, not quite knowing how much of my distaste towards Christmas is genuinely there or part of an automatic defence mechanism, put in place by hurt after so many lonely Christmas's.
Knowing myself and knowing that I am usually such a 'sissy, never-try-anything-new' type of girl I was surprising myself with each step I took away from the bus stop towards my current destination and now I stood at the door waiting to enter I felt nothing short of shock. Adding to the unusualness of the situation was the outfit I had chosen to wear. As a rule I only wore anything 'sexy' if put under a lot of pressure from girlfriends and was much more comfortable in loose jeans and baggy T-shirts. Tonight though I had dressed up, and as I hadn't told anyone where I was going or about my chance encounter with the sexy guy in the street last night, I had no one to blame but myself. Trying to look inconspicuous on the doorstep of a house on a street that looked like something out of the Stepford Wives was not easy. Knowing that under the leather knee length trench coat I had chosen not to wear pants, or anything else, made me grip the bottom of the coat against my thighs nervously.
The house I was standing outside of had no exceptional qualities in comparison to the other detached houses lining the small cul-de-sac. The size, shape and mostly the design of the small front gardens copied each other in uniformly distasteful Christmas decorations. The garden belonging to this house, on the left of where I stood was home to a giant, neon, Santa sleigh and only one reindeer. Looking like a cross between a horse and a donkey, I only identified it as a reindeer because of its shiny red nose!
After what seemed like an age, the door opened, dragging me out of my dreamy, observant state. I was face to face with the guy who had handed me the mysterious note with only this address written on it, looking at him I knew exactly why I had taken a chance and come to meet him.
Tonight he was dressed in scruffy, drain-pipe jeans pulled tight across his skinny hips and a plain T-shirt. This guy was indeed hot!
"I'm Jack", he introduced. He offered me a rough hand shaking it, I told him my name was Carla inwardly cursing myself. I'd just told a complete stranger my real name, so much for the fantasy element of our meeting! In the past 24 hours when I had been thinking about this meeting I had always used a much sexier name; usually Lolita! Well, too late now.
Turning to let me follow him into the house, I was transfixed by Jacks beautiful arse, causing me to almost trip on the Persian carpet covering the wooden floor in the hall. Cursing myself inwardly again, this time for being such a clutz I stared at the floor, too nervous to pay proper attention to my surroundings.
Handing me a black carrier bag, the type that porn films are always packaged in and asking me to get ready Jack held out his arm indicating that I should enter the room on my left. Cramped and dimly lit, there was nothing very exciting about the room I now stood in; my heart was beating incredibly fast. As if Jack knew that I was desperate to look in the bag he had handed me he quietly left the room.