“You want I get them to bring one for you?"

She does not answer.

Harry breaths out, “right”. He drops his glass. “Fuck”!

She looks at him. Her face does not change expression. “I’ll get something”

She goes to the table in the corner of the room. She takes out a cigarette from a packet lying there. She puts it to her lips and lights it. Harry is watching her. She walks into the bathroom. There is flannel beside the sink. She picks it up. She sees herself in the mirror. She looks at herself. She is tired. She walks back into the room.

Harry has got out of bed. He is a big mature adult male walrus. He walks over to the table and pours himself another drink. He watches her as she begins to mop up his spillage. He doesn’t have much respect for the room, “you don’t need to do that”.

“It’ll smell”.

“It’s vodka. It doesn’t smell.”

She finishes cleaning up. It’s her room.

Harry takes a cigarette from the packet and lights it. He takes a long drag, “I’d better be off,” he says.

“OK’. She sits on the side of the bed and watches him. They both smoke a cigarette.

Harry’s voice is on his chest and his breathing is heavy, “let me leave you some money”.

She looks at his flaccid groin, “leave it at the door”.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He looks at her breasts. They seem less somehow, “you should get out more. You’re looking pale. When was the last time you went out?”

“I went out yesterday, Harry.”

“Where did you go?”

She looks at the floor. “Shopping.”

He flicks his cigarette into the ashtray, “you should let me buy you something”.

She smiles with out aiming at him, “that would be nice”.

“What would you like?”

“A surprise.”

“I could get you some new clothes.”

She pulls on her cigarette.

He glances over to her wardrobe, “something to go with what you already have.”

She looks his chest before his face. “Get me some pants, Harry.”

He takes a sip from his glass and then smiles. “What is it with women and pants?”

“They’ll make you happy, Harry.”

Her pictures her in them, black lace. “What kind of pants would you like?”

“I don’t know. You choose.”

He looks at her. “Ok.”

Helena gets up from the bed and walks into the bathroom. She rinses the flannel out in the sink. She at looks at herself in the mirror, she doesn’t look anymore awake.

Harry appears in the doorway. He hates himself. He looks at her. Takes her in. “You’re a pretty girl. You’re in your prime.”

She smiles into her weary reflection, “am I”?

“Yeah. You have a perfect little body.”

“Have I?”

“Yeah. I like its shape. You must work out.”

“I’m all natural Harry.”

“You got nice tight tits. Perfect.”

“Are they?”

“Yeah.”

“I think they’re bit small.”

“That’s what I like. Never been into big tits. I’ve never wanted kids, so I have no use for big tits.”

Helena looks at her breasts, sizes one of them up with a wistful hand. “I wouldn’t mind bigger ones.”

“They won’t work for me, so don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother what?”

“Getting the op. You got nice tits, you don’t want fucking udders.”

She looks at him through the mirror.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, “I’ve got to go to work”.

She looks at his mass in the mirror, “why don’t you stay”?

“I can’t.”

“You could stay a little longer.”

“I wish I could.”

She raises her eyebrows, “we could do something nice”.

He's not interested.

She tries again, “we could lie in bed all day long”.

He drains his glass. “I’d better go.”

He goes back into the bedroom and begins to dress. He puts on a pair of boxer shorts.

She stands in the doorway, “here, let me”. She picks his trousers up from chair in the corner and then walks over to him. She holds out the trousers. He steps into them. She pulls them up. She begins to do up his zip and then starts to fondle his groin. She looks into his eyes, “stay”.

“No. I’ve got a fucking headache.”

She pulls his penis out.

“I ain’t got time.”

She starts to kiss it.

He looks down on her. He breaths out. His heavy flat chest rises twice. “Oh go on. If you’re quick.”

She drops his organ, “what is it with you and mornings”?

“It was a long night.”

She looks at his penis, takes it into in her hands, “have a lie in Harry.”

“I can’t.”

“You can be late for work.”

He breathes out.

She rubs him up, “it’d be nice.

“I’d better go.”

She grips him a little harder, “I’ve some way to go yet, Harry”.

“I can’t concentrate.”

“What’s there to concentrate on.”

“At my age, babe, everything takes that little bit more.”

“I’ve never noticed your age Harry.”

He looks down at her.

“You’re not old. I’m just young.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, “If you listen carefully, sweetheart, you’ll hear my cock creaking.”

She smiles.

He smiles back at her, “I bet you thought it was this shitty bed”.

“It only creaks a little bit, Harry.”

He looks at her sharply. “Yeah, well, there you go.

She gives up, “oh go on, Harry. Go on. Fuck off. I want to go to bed. Leave ya money at the door.”

He is hurt. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what, mate.”

“Like that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Well that’s the nail on the head, love.”

“Ya going, or staying?”

“Kiss my cock and we’ll see.”

“Fuck off, Harry. I’m going back to bed.”

He walks over to the table and pours himself another drink. He looks back at Helena lying on the bed,

“Christ, sometimes I forget how small you are.”

She turns away from him.

He looks at his glass. He looks up and smiles. “How about that old whore’s breakfast?”

She breathes out, bites her tongue. Finally she turns over on the bed. “Go on then, pull it out.”

Not getting his worth, “you could be more enticing.”

She could have tried harder, “So”?

“I’m trying to be nice,” he says.

“I’m not your wife, Harry.”

“It doesn’t work on my wife.”

“Then you ain’t trying hard enough.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Well, maybe you should try harder mate. Get her some flowers.”

“I do that fucking anyway.”

“Get her something else, then.”

He looks at her. He looks at the floor. “I’m all out of ideas.”

She looks at him. “You might need to change that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, mate.”

He looks at the floor, unable to find inspiration he abandons the carpet, “well what should I get her”?

“Get her a pair of nice pants. Something like that.”

He bites his lip.

“A nice pair of silk pants. She’ll appreciate it.”

“She might, I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“You ain’t seen her, love.”

“That ain’t the point, Harry. It’ll make her feel different about herself. It’ll make her think that you see her as she sees herself inside and that’s different to the thing we look at in the mirror everyday. It’ll make her feel special. And if you do that to her, it’ll rub off. It’ll rub off on you.”

He looks at her for a long while and then his eyes drop to the floor. “But she looks like shit, sweetheart.” He looks at her like a little lost boy. “She’ll just squidge out of those pants.”

Helena fingers his fat, “I like a bit of squidge”.

“There’s squidge and then there’s squidge, love, and my wife’s a fucking tyre. It ruins my fucking holidays. We can’t go anywhere nice. I don’t want to see her on a beach. Always fucking Scotland.”

“I’d like to go to Scotland.”

“No you don’t, it’s fucking cold. I’d like to go to Spain.”

“Why don’t you leave her?”

“Can’t afford it.”

“Why not?”

“House prices have shot up.”

He goes to the dressing table for the pack of cigarettes, takes one and puts it to his mouth. He looks at the floor for a moment before he lights it.

Helena taps the bed, “why don’t you come and lie down”.

“I’ve got to go to work.”

“Until you finished that fag.”

He breathes out some dispirited smoke. He then crosses the room to sit down on the bed.

“Lie down Harry.”

He lies stiffly down.

“You should try and relax.”

“I’ve just got a lot on, love.”

“Let me give you a massage.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“It’ll take a minute. Turn over.”

He looks at her and then begins to turn over.

“Harry... the fag, mate.”

“Eh? Oh yeah.” He quickly turns over like a boy and puts the cigarette out.

“Take your shirt off.”

He takes his shirt off and turns onto his stomach. She climbs onto his large back and begins to massage his shoulders.

“How’s that?”

“It’s nice.”

“Your such a big man.”

“Got the shoulders of a bull.”

“A great big bull, Harry. A real bucking broncho.”

He smiles to himself.

She kisses his back. “Is that nice?”

“Oh aye, love. You’ve got good hands.”

“Have I Harry?”

“Yeah, you should be a doctor.”

“I can’t be a doctor.”

“A nurse then.”

“I don’t have any qualifications.”

“You don’t need qualifications. Just walk into a hospital, give a doctor a massage and you’ll be in. They’d be daft not to employ you. You’re a natural. There’s more to health than they let on, so don’t let them tell you otherwise. You know how to touch the soul and that’s a gift, can’t get that from an aspirin. You’ll give years to a man’s life but you’ll have to keep that arse of yours under raps - not good for a weak ticker. Ah, that’s good, baby, you got good hands, a real fucking natural.

With Helena on his back he gets up on all fours snorting and grunting and then at the top of his voice he hollers, “there’s still life in this old bull yet!”

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