Clearstarcher: One who clearstarches – To stiffen with starch, and then make clear by clapping with the hands
Agog: In eager desire eager astir
Improlificate: To impregnate
—–
He doesn’t know that I saw them, him with her. But I was there.
I was in the corner, leaning on a wall, wearing a leather jacket and with my hair slicked neatly back. Earlier in the night I’d told my reflection, ‘you look just like Buddy Holly, dude, nice work.’
He arrived after I did, at least thirty minutes after to be precise, which is an unforgiveable rudeness in my books. He came alone, as you know, wearing a sharply tailored evening suit, the inky blue of fading twilight. I remember his shirt was a blinding white, cuffs and collars stiff and rigid, gleaming like teeth. Fucking clearstarcher, I thought, with your stiff enamel collar, rigid and broad like the wings of a fucking albatross.
Bear in mind that she was already there at this point, chatting and laughing with friends, Molly from floor four, Sally from floor three, Polly from floor two. They each held a small glass tumbler, full of brown liquid, probably whisky or amaretto. I like amaretto, do you like amaretto? No? Well, she did. She enjoyed the hot flush of aniseed searing her tongue, the warmth on her throat, the gently curling heat in her stomach, a dragon in its pit.
She caught his eye immediately, but, in that dress who would fail to succumb to her charms? The long, slender legs, creamy against the strawberry red of her dress, a bodice tight as bark on a tree pushing fleshy fruits to the forefront of any man’s thoughts. I know they were in mine, plump bosoms bouncing as I stood in the corner, watching.
Did you know her hair fell like autumn leaves? A sheet of auburn silk draped lightly over her shoulders, tresses eddying like an effervescent chestnut river. It was ravishing, simply sumptuous. He saw it. I saw it too.
I saw his eyes agog, bulbous stars in the night, the fog lights of souls passing in the night, drawn to her by the white heat of her shimmering radiance.
Please, bear in mind that I too was partaking in the general imbibements of the night, if not the actual merriments. I was satisfied watching from the corner, she the dormouse to my tawny owl. He wasn’t though. Oh no, no, no!
He flocked to her; strutting, cavorting, talking, carousing, drinking, dancing, touching, holding, groping, kissing, escaping, improlificating. Possibly.
You do know what that word means, don’t you? Improlificate? It means to impregnate. But I don’t say that word. I dislike the hard ‘egg’ sound. It sticks in my throat as though it could hatch at any moment.
Anyhow, I saw them leaving together, hand on ass, tongue in mouth, crotch in crotch. The last thing I saw was the soft, red petal of her lipstick imprinted on his stiff shirt collar. Deep down I hoped it was blood. But it wasn’t. It was just affection.
His wife looks at me, eye-to-eye for the first time since I started talking.
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she asks, her voice hoarse.