149. Underhand Lob

Here he comes, rocking a straw sombrero and a pair of knock-off Ray Bans, pulling a pallet of paper that defies gravity at every corner, his demeanor defiant, shouting ‘pal’ and ‘mate’ and ‘cunt’ at everyone with the same split-melon grin, unbowed and unbroken and eternal, the heavyweight champion of the waster generation…
It’s Fucking Amazing Dave.
“Hi Dave.”
He slams on the brakes, the brakes being his boots and a few stray sheets of paper drift from the top of his pallet as it threatens to topple but doesn’t.
“LUCI!!” He greets me like a dog when his owner comes home, he’s all over me, laughing and patting and shaking my hand, saying ‘man’ and ‘quality’ and ‘awesome’.
I fucking love Fucking Amazing Dave.
I say, “Where you been? Not seen you for a few weeks?”
Fucking Amazing Dave starts hopping from one foot to the other, waggling his eyebrows and clacking imaginary castanets while singing ‘Viva Espania’.
I fake puzzlement. “Have you been to your aunty’s caravan at Reighton Sands again?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Fuck… OFF, Luci! I’ve been to Spain, man! Espanyar! Eyeing up the senyoreeetas and necking glasses of Si Si San Miguel! Living La Vida Loco! It was fuckin’ amazin’!”
“Right. Did you go on your own?”
Fucking Amazing Dave looks offended. “On me own? What do y’ take me for, man? Some kind of nonce?”
“I didn’t realise it was a noncey thing, going on holiday on your own. I’m sure lots of non-nonce types nip abroad on their tod, Dave.”
He shakes his head. “Never trust someone alone on holiday, Luci. Why? Because they’re up to summat, that’s why. Shifty fuckers. They’re either nicking stuff or watchin’ nippers on the beach.” Fucking Amazing Dave illustrates this by turning one hand into a telescope while pretending to wank with the other.
“Fair enough, I suppose. So who did you go with?”
“Our lass, Paula. She loves the sun, she does. She was gettin’ pissed off with Reighton Sands so she booked one of those last minute things.”
“What part of Spain did you go to?”
Fucking Amazing Dave shrugs. “I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue, Luci. It was one of those jobs where you rock up at the airport and they just send you somewhere. We landed in Spain, they shoved us on a bus and turfed us out in the middle of the night at some hotel somewhere. Two weeks of sun, sea and Sangria then the bus turns up again and takes us back to the airport. Simples!”
Fucking Amazing Dave does a meerkat impression.
I shake my head. “Two weeks, and you didn’t ask anyone where you were?”
He shrugs again. “No point. I didn’t really give a fuck, to be honest. One bit of Spain is pretty much like any other bit of Spain, yeah?”
I think about replying to that question but decide against it. I notice something strange about his face, in the shadow of his sombrero.
“Dave, you got a bit of sun, did you?”
“Yeah!” Fucking Amazing Dave grins, whips off his hat.
I say, “Fuck me.”
Fucking Amazing Dave’s face is deeply tanned. There are white creases all over it, like his face has been screwed up for two weeks.
The tan is also limited to a perfect square on his face. Everywhere else is white.
I try to think of something to say but I’m totally lost for words. He looks completely mental.
He laughs, watching my reaction to his reveal.
“Knowing you, Luci, you want to hear how this happened to my nut, don’t you?”
I say, “More than life itself, Dave. I’ve got to know how you come back off holiday looking like a piece of toast.”
Fucking Amazing Dave licks his lips, looks from left to right, rubs his trousers.
“Right. Here it is. I dunno know what you’re like on your jollies, Luci, but I land at a sunny airport and I instantly feel randy. Dunno why, but there it is. Course, I feel pretty boned up most of the time anyway but somethin’ about the sun really gets me fizzy. So we gets our bags and shit, Paula and me, and we gets on the coach and we gets to the apartment and first thing I wanna do is have a quick fuck but Paula says she’s knackered from all the travellin’ an’ all she wants to do is get some shut eye. Fair enough. You know me, I’m a modern gent, respect lasses and all that shit, so I leave her to get some kip.
“Anyway, next mornin’ I wake up an’ our lass is already up an’ in her bikini, slarted up in sun cream with her sunnies on an’ a couple of towels under her arm! So i suggest a quickie an’ she says no way because she’s got to get to the loungers before half of Dusseldorf get there first an’ she’s off like a shot! No fuck for poor old Davey boy, again!”
I say, “I feel your pain, Dave. Full knackers and nowhere to empty them.”
Fucking Amazing Dave nods sagely. “You know it. Now, If you’re owt like me, Luci, I can’t just crack one off. I need a bit of inspiration, yeah? So I try having a quick yank before goin’ down the pool but it’s no good. I’m chuckin’ miself about the place and getting nowhere so I get me shorts on and go find our lass. She’s already sizzlin’, gas mark 4, an’ I join her for a bit and then I go for a splash in the pool for a bit then I go get a beer for a bit an’ by then I’m getting a bit bored.”
He lets out a long moan.
“Thing is, I got me shades on an’ I can see all the lasses. Ligging about, titties out, covered in shiny, shiny sun cream. OH GOD! I’m tellin’ you, little Dave were trying to tear a hole in my fuckin’ shorts! An’ there’s our lass, tits out an’ all, rubbing cream into them, an’ there’s lasses splashing in the pool an gettin’ all wet an’ that, bouncing about in their thongs an’ I’m goin’ spare so I take a right good look at the lasses, try to remember them an’ that, an’ I tell our Paula that I’m off back to the room for summat an’ I leg it.”
“Back to the room? What for?”
“I needed to empty the tanks, man! It were too much! My bollocks were exploding! So I tries wankin’ off again, thinkin’ about them lasses by the pool, but it’s no good. I can’t do it! I need to look at somethin’, anythin’, but there’s nowt to look at! I have a peek out on the balcony but we’re facing a wall full of air con units, so I gets the idea of goin’ in the bathroom, see if our lass has brought any tights with her.”
“Tights, Dave? Bit kinky, no?”
“What? Oh, No! Not to fuckin’ wear! I’m not that kind of bloke, Luci. Live an’ let live, you know me, but I’m not a gimp. Fuck me, can you imagine gettin’ caught wearin’ tights for pervy thrills? You’d have to move house an’ change yer name! No, I were hopin’ she’d have the box the tights came in ‘cause they always have fit lasses on the packet wearing next to nowt on ‘em an’ I’d be able to wank over that.”
“Ah, that’s alright then. Nothing weird about wanking over packaging.”
Fucking Amazing Dave shrugs. “It’s only like wankin’ over a catalogue, an’ we’ve all done that, yeah? No?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, pre-internet, though. Not recently.”
“Exactly! Desperate times, desperate measures! It’s a sign of resourcefulness. Any road, I’m in the bathroom ferreting through our lasses stuff, but there’s nowt. Nothing remotely sexy. By now I’m really desperate, Luci. My balls are achin’ like fuck an’ I’m close to tears, prayin’ for a miracle, when I hears this noise:
Pock… pock… pock…
an’ I wonder, ‘what the fuckin’ Hell is that?’ an’ this bathroom has this right little window, high up, over the bog, an’ the noise is comin’ from outside, so I gets up on the bog an’ look through the window, an’ I see it!”
“See what?”
“A fuckin’ miracle, Luci.”
Fucking Amazing Dave clutches his heart and sways, staring heavenwards, a dreamy expression on his burnt face.
“It were a tennis court! The hotel next to ours had all this sports shit there, it were much fancier than ours, and these lasses were playin’ tennis! Oh jesus, man you should have seen ‘em! Bouncin’ around in teeny tiny skirts, flashin’ their knickers, titties jigglin’ in  their bikinis! So you know what I did, Luci?”
“I can bloody well guess.”
“I cried. Right there an’ then, I cried. I thanked God an’ Jesus for puttin’ them tennis lasses there in my hour of need…”
“I don’t think God and Jesus had anything to do with it, to be honest.”
“… then I wanked my knackers flat. Three in a row, straight off.”
“Wow indeed, mate. I tell you, it were fuckin’ amazin’. Just what the doctor ordered. I went back poolside fresh as a fuckin’ daisy. No problems. Paula was still under the grill, the lasses in the pool were still splashin’ an’ little Dave were sound asleep in my shorts, all good!”
Fucking Amazing Dave draws closer, conspiratorial.
“Thing is, Luci, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ‘em.”
“The tennis girls?”
“The tennis girls. They’d got into my head. All these fit lasses all around me, Paula wi’ next to nowt on, an’ all I can think about is those tennis girls. I dunno why – maybe it were because it were a bit… naughty, you know? What’s the word, solicit?”
He snaps his fingers. “That’s it! Illicit! Peekin’ at lasses while manhandlin’ me manhandle. bit naughty, yeah? Well suddenly that’s all I want! An hour later I makes me excuses again an’ I’m back on the bog, face pressed to that tiny window, havin’ another wank!”
“Bad habit that, Dave. You don’t want to be making regular thing of it.”
“Regular thing? Fuck me, Luci, I were doin’ it nine times a day! Every chance I got I were there, tuggin’ meself silly! I’d conditioned meself, like them dogs that that bloke had who slobbered when he rung a bell.”
“Never mind.”
“Right. Anyway, it couldn’t go on forever. Half way through the second week I’m back at my perch, cock in hand, just gettin’ close to match point, as it were, when one of these lasses looks right at me and lets out a piercin’ scream! I jump down an’ pull up me shorts, leg it to the pool, pretend nowt’s happened. Then I see the hotel manager marchin’ over to our room an’ knock on the door. Then he comes walkin’ around the pool till he sees me an’ he says he wants a word. Our Paula were lookin’ puzzled but I says I’d sort it an’ I go to reception wi’ the manager an’ the tennis lasses are there wi’ some posh cunt from the other hotel. These lasses are pointin’ at me, sayin’ I’m the bloke, sayin’ they caught me peepin’ an’ I try to deny it but me suntan gave us away.”
Fucking Amazing Dave points sadly at the burn square on his face.
I say, “How come it took the a week to notice you? You’d been staring through that window for best part of a fortnight!”
“Yeah, but the outside wall were painted, cream, weren’t it? An’ as the days went by me face got redder an’ redder. After a bit I stuck out like a pot prick. A big red angry face gurnin’ through a window at young lasses knockin’ a ball about. Bang to rights.”
“Don’t tell me they called the police. They fuck you for stuff like that abroad. You’d be like that bloke in Midnight Express.”
Fucking Amazing Dave shakes his head. “They let me off with a bollocking. I were lucky. They locked the window n’all, an’ the glass were frosted, so that put paid to me fun. I made up some excuse to our lass otherwise she’d have gone apeshit. Anyway, those last few days were fuckin’ torture.”
“Didn’t you try getting it on with Paula?”
“I weren’t interested no more. I did ask her to put on a little skirt an’ jump around the room for us one night but she just looked at me weird, called me a perv. It’s tennis or nowt for me now.”
Fucking Amazing Dave looked downcast. I feel sorry for him, even if he’d been caught wanking over teenage tennis girls.
Suddenly he perks up. “What time is it, Luci?”
I check my watch. “One twenty five. Shift’s nearly over. You doing overtime?”
“I got offered it, but fuck that! The women’s singles in the Roland Garros are on BBC2 this afternoon.” He winks at me. “Little Dave is giddy as fuck! See you later Luci!”
And he’s off, shedding sheets of paper as he goes, straw sombrero tilted at a carefree angle, a man on a mission, looking for Love, or maybe deuce.

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3 Responses to 149. Underhand Lob

  1. I grinned all the way through reading that.

    I’m always pleased when a new post pops up from you. Only thing is, I have to wait until my dinner break to read it on my phone rather than my work computer. Your writing wouldn’t be the same if it was safe for work, though.

  2. Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android

    From:”Repro Man – stories from a reluctant reprographer.” Date:Fri, 24 Apr, 2015 at 11:22 Subject:[New post] 149. Underhand Lob

    generallucifer posted: “Here he comes, rocking a straw sombrero and a pair of knock-off Ray Bans, pulling a pallet of paper that defies gravity at every corner, his demeanor defiant, shouting ‘pal’ and ‘mate’ and ‘cunt’ at everyone with the same split-melon grin, unbowed and unb”

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