This is the second in a series of stories following Ed and his adventures as a door-to-door salesman. You don't need to have read chapter one but you might as well!
I hope you enjoy them and please do leave me feedback β it's always welcome. All rights reserved, (c) Northern_One, 2013.
The Canadian had an apartment only a block away from where the street of backpackers' bars thumped with heavy bass and thronged with people. The bars had a liberated, hedonistic atmosphere where people abandoned mundane reality and cut loose, even if they were only free for a few days or weeks, and something of that heady air filled the dimly lit apartment where Ed, the Canadian and the dancer from the bar lounged, already pretty drunk and now mildly drugged. They had met in one of the bars a couple of hours earlier and were back at the Canadian's place to sample his new toy, a huge pyramidal electronic vapouriser that, when combined with his latest batch of grass had the effect of making them particularly high. It was only a couple of days since the Canadian had acquired the girl's number but from what Ed could see they were getting on pretty well already.
"So how d'ya get on at work?" the Canadian asked with a wink. He was propped up against the head of the bed, a beer can in one hand, the other draped around the shoulders of the petite brunette who lay against him. He was a good looking guy, the Canadian, not that Ed was attracted to men, but he could see what girls saw in him. Although Ed wasn't exactly an eight stone weakling the Canadian had the kind of broad, rugged physique that Ed always wished he'd been blessed with; a scruffy beard and mop of curly blond hair added to the general air of masculinity that the Canadian exuded.
"What do you do Ed?" the girl, whose name Ed had taken the time to ask, only to forget it immediately lay against the Canadian, her head on his chest. As fine a specimen as the Canadian was, the girl Ed had last seen wearing only stripper shoes and gold hotpants was altogether more up his street. She was Hungarian β he knew that much β and had extraordinarily high cheekbones that accentuated her almost mesmeric, grey-blue eyes even further. Her dark hair was scraped back from her face in a tight ponytail giving her a slightly stern look that, along with her full, pouting lips, and those narrow, feline, steely eyes reminded Ed of an Eastern European villainess from a Bond film although the cumulative effects of drink, drugs, heat and her striking appearance were making any suave, Bond-like witticisms most unlikely, on Ed's part at least.
"Basically I'm a door-to-door, salesman," Ed told her from the armchair in which he was slumped, his legs outstretched on the bed. He took a slurp from his can and crossed his ankles. "It's a pretty shitty job to be honest but I need to make money somehow."
The girl nodded, grinning broadly. "I know what you mean," she responded in accented yet flawless English that would put many native speakers to shame. "I've got a master's from Oxford and here I am, flaunting my tits to drunken yobs," she laughed.
This made the Canadian snort. "You're shitting me?" he yelled. "You went to Oxford?"
The girl looked at him and pouted, extricating herself from his arm and sliding across the bed towards the vapourising machine. "I'm a girl of many talents,'' she said. As she spoke she looked at Ed and winked. Her glossy black leggings made a noise like static electricity crackling on the Canadian's cheap bed clothes.
"I'm sure you are baby, I'm sure you are," drawled the Canadian, admiring her sculpted arse, perfectly presented as she leaned across the table to fill the machine. Ed and the Canadian absently appreciated the beauty before them, watching her fill the Magic Mountain with another batch of greenery. The conversation lulled for a moment as the men admired the girl and the girl went to work on the machine.
A change of tracks on the sound system snapped the Canadian out of his trance and he gently kicked Ed's feet, nudging him back to reality. "So," he encouraged, a look of genuine eagerness on his face. "Any luck out there?"
Ed smiled coolly. He'd been waiting for the Canadian to ask and secretly was desperate to tell all and boast about his conquest of Charlene but he didn't want to look like a boorish womaniser in front of this remarkable female. Okay, he might have seen her on a podium, oiled and topless a night or two ago but, as she said, everyone has to make a living somehow. "A gentlemen doesn't tell," he said smoothly, ostentatiously checking his fingernails for any dirt.
"Bull shit!" the Canadian exploded. "Fuck gentlemen; a dude shares the wealth!" he boomed, his eyes dancing with excitement. "You did, didn't you? You nailed a MILF!"
"What's this?" asked the girl, an equally mischievous glint in her eye as she turned to Ed. "Have you been seducing desperate housewives?"
"Ha ha, no," Ed instinctively said, suddenly feeling very much on the spot. "Well, yeah, kind of," he said quietly. He found himself having to stifle a childishly excited laugh.
"You little ripper!" the Canadian yelled in a vaguely Australian accent. "I told you, you've just gotta be on the ball! What was she like? Was she a hound? I bet she was!"
The girl blew out the non-existent smoke and frowned gently at the machine. It had taken Ed a while to become used to not having the feel of hot smoke on his throat. It was almost as if feeling that burn was a necessary part of getting stoned but, after a few minutes, the effects of the machine were impressive. She settled herself back on the bed, beside the Canadian, pulling his arm around her bare shoulders once more.