SOME GUYS JUST AREN'T CUT OUT FOR A 9 TO 5…
I knew from the first moment I saw her that Catherine and I were going to end up sleeping with one another. Assuming we both got offered jobs of course.
We’d both made it to the second interview stage at XY and crossed paths briefly in reception. She wasn’t my usual spec (looked kind of like a librarian if you know what I mean) but beneath a very modest top she looked like she could be concealing some pretty decent bar.
Plus my brother’s friend had told me all about ‘city girls’ and how common it was to hook-up with your colleagues. And Catherine just looked like she’d be one of those girls.
She was very shy and consequently I kept my distance from her, both in and out of work. But she finally came out of her shell at our Christmas party in ’04. I had actually wanted to hook up with one of the senior consultants, Lucy, but I ended up back at Catherine’s.
It nearly didn’t happen as she was so drunk that we just went to sleep. But she accidentally woke me up later that night to get some water and I thought, well we’re up now.
I was expecting the ‘please don’t tell anyone, I have a boyfriend spiel the following Monday but what did surprise me was her insistence that she didn’t want that night to affect our friendship.
Friendship? At best we were office acquaintances. But her bar was even better than originally suspected and the sex was great. So I made sure I wasn’t a total wanker just in case there was a chance of re-tap in the future.
There would be three more occasions that I ended up back at Catherine’s place in the two years that I was at XY but only one of them is really worth telling you about.
Fast forward to summer ‘05 and another office party. As was fast becoming my modus operandi, I got pleasantly drunk by around 9pm and started to contemplate who to flirt with.
Back then XY was split into two teams – A and B. All the women on my team (A) were married so that was a dead-end. And on B, only three were neither engaged nor married – Catherine, Lucy (who was still not putting out) and Carrie.
I would go on to sleep with all three of them on various occasions but that particular night, I was after Catherine.
Given our inability to have a conversation – which had become worse after the Christmas encounter – I really had to struggle with my opener. But looking back, I was quite impressed. Especially in light of how the conversation started.
After a text-book “how’s it going” I offered to get her a drink.
“No thanks, I’m ok. I’m probably going to head off soon”.
What? This wasn’t part of the script.
I couldn’t just steam in with a “well how about we recreate another cock in mouth situation” could I?
I had to think of something clever. And quick.
The last time we hooked up Catherine was staying in a bed-sit in Hammersmith. And I was still at my parents.
Me: “Listen, I know this is going to sound odd but do you still live in Hammersmith?”
Catherine: “Yes. But I’m in a new place with a girlfriend, why?”
Me: “Weeeeell… I’d like to stick around a bit longer.” At which point, she was either disappointed that I didn’t try and fish for an invite back to hers or she was incredibly relieved.
“But I’m worried about getting home is all. Could I possibly get your number and call you later if I’m in a jam? I‘ll sleep on the couch naturally.”
Catherine: “Hmm. I guess so. So long as it’s not too late. And you’re definitely sleeping on the couch!”
I knew it. Clearly I should’ve skipped the pre amble and gone straight for the cock in mouth line.
Me: “Yes, I promise it won’t be too late and of course I’ll be on the couch” I responded rather arrogantly.
So Catherine left and I continued drinking. It must’ve been around 1.30am when I called her. I had to call late enough that she couldn’t question if the trains were still running but not so late that she would’ve already gone to sleep.
I was also going to lie and say that I was in a cab on the way to hers, just in case she had second thoughts.
Four rings. Dammit. I knew I should’ve left earlier. I was about to hang up when a very grumpy voice mumbled “hey, where are you?”
Me: Yesss. “Oh, I’m in a cab. I asked the guy to head to Hammersmith. I hope that’s ok?”
Catherine: “Erm. Yeah, I suppose so”
Me: “Cool. Thank you again. I really appreciate it.”
Catherine: “Yeah sure. No worries.”
Me: “What’s your address by the way?”
Catherine: “God sorry. It’s …”
Me: “Wow, this is a really nice flat. Much better than your last place. And didn’t you say the rent was quite cheap?”
Catherine: “Yeah, it’s actually my flatmate’s uncle’s place, which is why it’s such a good deal.”
Me: “Nice. Speaking of your flatmate, is she in?”
Catherine: “Erm no. I think she’s at her boyfriend’s place tonight.”
Stop it. This night just gets better and better.
Catherine: “Well anyway, I’m really tired so I’m going to bed. The spare room is over on the right.”
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?
Catherine: “The sheets haven’t been changed in a while but we don’t have too many visitors so you should be fine.”
Once again, she was choosing to blatantly disregard the script. But before I could think of an appropriate response her back was turned and she was already in her room.
I sat at the foot of the bed contemplating what my next move would be and then it hit me. She was obviously playing hard to get. Why else would she give me her number, let me stay round when her flat mate was out and more importantly, wake up and wait for me to come round just to shut me down?
So I got completely undressed and made my way to her room. Knock, knock.
Catherine: “Yeah, what is it? Oh my god! Where are your clothes?”
Me: “Come on now Catherine. You can cut the act.”
Catherine: “God. I knew this was what you were after when you asked to stay round.”
And yet you still let me in didn’t you?
Catherine: “But I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Me: “Benefit of the doubt? Of course you knew this was why I wanted to come round. Listen, I know you are still with James but he never needs to know.”
I tried to hold her hand but she backed away slowly. And very calmly told me that she wasn’t joking, the last time we hooked up was a huge mistake, that I was still welcome to use the spare room but that I was to fuck off out of her room immediately before she screamed.
Contrary to how I must be sounding right now, I wasn’t a complete douche and apologised profusely for misreading (I mean creating) the situation. I also thanked her for still agreeing to let me stay and for once, I actually begged the girl not to tell anyone about what had happened!
Within seconds I was back at that same spot on the bed thinking about the mess I had gotten myself into. Now most guys would’ve bolted from there and not looked back. Or they would’ve at least made use of the bed (it was around 2.30am). But not me. As there is something very wrong with me.
I put my clothes back on and went into the living room. After around 2 mins of shuffling through the items on her coffee table, I found what I was looking for; the local paper. I went straight to the back page and made my way forward until I hit the jackpot.
Escort and massage services.
I got my phone out and started dialling… Finally I found an agency based on the other side of London. However they could send someone to Hammersmith. But first the admin.
Agency: “What’s your address?”
What was MY address? Hell if I remembered what Catherine said. So I thought,”where do most people leave their mail?” I asked the guy to hold and dashed to the kitchen. Bingo. An electricity bill. “Erm, it’s…”
Agency: “Right. It’s £130 for the hour…”
Suddenly I realised that I only had about £40 on me. “Erm. Do you do half hour slots?”
Agency: “Is this a joke?”
Me: “No. I’m serious. It’s just that I may need to get some cash out first. Unless you accept credit card” I asked pathetically, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Agency: “What do you think?”
Me: “I thought as much.”
Agency: “Listen buddy. Why don’t you have a think about it all and call me back. We have serious punters on hold.”
What a tool. Maybe I should have explained my predicament. If he knew the lengths I was prepared to go to just to get laid maybe he would’ve given me a discount?
Now at this point, even the very few guys that made it with me this far would’ve thrown in the towel. But not me. As there is something very wrong with me.
I put the phone down and this time started to shuffle through ALL of Catherine’s things. What was I looking for? Cash.
Even as I write this I am appalled (secretly proud) by what I did that night. I mean trying to nail a pro in a colleague’s flat whilst she was sleeping and this is after she had just rejected you. And to top it off, I was going to steal from her in order to pay for it!
I should’ve stopped when I couldn’t find any money and perhaps there may still have been a chance for me to get into heaven (or in my case, to be reincarnated as a King or a rock star). But instead I did the unthinkable. Knock, knock.
Me: “Listen Catherine, don’t worry I’m not naked or anything. But I was just wondering; do you happen to have any cash on you?”
That’s it. Get this man a first class ticket to hell. I am definitely coming back as a toilet seat when my time is up.
Catherine: “Huh. Why? What for?”
Well it’s actually to pay for a hooker and I only have 40 pounds. If you think about it, it’s only right that you pay the rest as this is entirely your fault for being a frigid, prick teasing cow.
Is what I should have said. But as I hadn’t thought it through properly, what I actually came up with was, “Oh, I was thinking of getting a cab back home and don’t think I have enough.”
Catherine: “Sorry, I only have a fiver on me. But there’s a cash machine about 5 minutes away on the high street.”
Now I was fucked. Once I left the flat I would be completely out of options. Hmm. How did such a promising situation turn into this.
Whilst I stood there pondering, Catherine had put on her dressing gown and had already opened the front door to let me out.
Down trodden, humiliated and finally accepting defeat, I apologised again for what had happened earlier and made my way to the front door. But before leaving I asked to use her bathroom and had the most furious of wanks.
Perhaps if I had just done that earlier in one of the bar toilets I wouldn’t have been in that situation. But then again, where’s the fun in that?
On the cab ride home I kept thinking where it all went wrong; first with Catherine and then with the attempted pro. And what could I possibly have said to allow me to leave, get cash and come back to hers?
Oh and before I forget. This was the first of the three further occasions I ended up back at Catherine’s. The end result on visits three and four were much, much better.
If you liked this then I suspect you might also enjoy my book. Or not.
Either way, thanks for reading; particularly to those of you who share these stories and/or leave comments.