Gravy liked to wear skirts. He didn’t wear them every day, but when he did he matched them with a pair of women’s thongs. He didn’t shave his legs as the upkeep was too time consuming, but he liked to paint his toenails weekly in every shade the spectrum offered, just as long as the tone complimented his lipstick.
On skirt days he’d kneel down between the legs of his girlfriend Lily as she sat on the edge of the bed. He watched her concentrating as she applied creamy crimson or matt black or nude gloss to his cushiony lips. She didn’t actually need to do this for him as he was more than capable of doing it himself, however it was a ritual they both enjoyed, ending with Gravy pressing both lips together, coquettishly merging them slightly, then quickly releasing, causing a seductive smack. He knew this sound made Lily lose her shit. They were often late for work.
This particular morning, he smacked his lips together and looked straight into Lily’s eyes, searching for a delicious spark, but her stare was vacant. He put it down to stress over the impending deadline she’d been working towards. He kissed her anyway, smearing her with fuschia, but his kiss was barely reciprocated. An alarm bell rang in him, he recognised the familiar rebuff, girls never stuck around for very long and, lets face it, Lily had lasted longer than most, to the point where he’d begun to feel a certain domestic comfort. He’d only ever felt that way once before. The thing was he was just too obscure and not even his success could help to hold a partner for long. It was obvious Lily’s tiny tell spelt the end of the relationship, how many time’s had he seen it? He lingered, staring at her but saying nothing. She replaced the lipstick lid firmly, with a certain finality, avoiding his gaze. He stood up and fondled a tress of her long dark hair, so similar in colour and length to his own. She’d been good fun, but they both knew neither was the other’s ‘one’. He knew fighting for her was useless. For a moment he felt her loss acutely, the impending loneliness creeping over his life like a thunderous cloud blotting out the stars in the darkness.
“One more time, for the last time?” He whispered softly.
She smiled, nodded sadly and tugged at his skirt. He’d have to be late again today.
On skirt days he’d kneel down between the legs of his girlfriend Lily as she sat on the edge of the bed. He watched her concentrating as she applied creamy crimson or matt black or nude gloss to his cushiony lips. She didn’t actually need to do this for him as he was more than capable of doing it himself, however it was a ritual they both enjoyed, ending with Gravy pressing both lips together, coquettishly merging them slightly, then quickly releasing, causing a seductive smack. He knew this sound made Lily lose her shit. They were often late for work.
This particular morning, he smacked his lips together and looked straight into Lily’s eyes, searching for a delicious spark, but her stare was vacant. He put it down to stress over the impending deadline she’d been working towards. He kissed her anyway, smearing her with fuschia, but his kiss was barely reciprocated. An alarm bell rang in him, he recognised the familiar rebuff, girls never stuck around for very long and, lets face it, Lily had lasted longer than most, to the point where he’d begun to feel a certain domestic comfort. He’d only ever felt that way once before. The thing was he was just too obscure and not even his success could help to hold a partner for long. It was obvious Lily’s tiny tell spelt the end of the relationship, how many time’s had he seen it? He lingered, staring at her but saying nothing. She replaced the lipstick lid firmly, with a certain finality, avoiding his gaze. He stood up and fondled a tress of her long dark hair, so similar in colour and length to his own. She’d been good fun, but they both knew neither was the other’s ‘one’. He knew fighting for her was useless. For a moment he felt her loss acutely, the impending loneliness creeping over his life like a thunderous cloud blotting out the stars in the darkness.
“One more time, for the last time?” He whispered softly.
She smiled, nodded sadly and tugged at his skirt. He’d have to be late again today.
Work was based in an old converted Porter bottling factory on the canal basin parallel to Platform One of Kings Cross Station. When Gravy had first started In-Deep Design the studio occupied one small rented corner of the block, he now owned the entire building. At first he’d commuted from his shared flat in Tufnell Park and the favourite part of the journey was the walk along the entire length of Platform One, up the ancient cobbled slip-way, onto York Way. Being a creature of habit, he always left home at roughly the same time and encountered the same people walking in the opposite direction. He made up names and imaginary lives for them. That’s where he had first noticed Arlandria.
Nowadays the route had been closed off and after his spectacularly immodest success, his commute consisted of hopping along the road from the Home building, some one-hundred paces from In-Deep’s front door. Today he used those slow one-hundred steps to think about Lily. He forced a false relief to wash over him, he would only let Lily leave a temporary scar.
He pushed open the large glass doors and walked up the low-ceilinged concrete incline, reaching the main reception where the ceiling opened up to a glass roof four floors above.
Nigel, the ancient handyman, was up a step ladder changing one of the many spot lights in the low ceiling that washed the sandblasted brick walls with fan shapes of creamy light.
“’s’up Nige?”
“What’s up?” replied Nigel in a thick North London accent from another era, “I’ll tell you what’s up Grave - you designed sixty-nine fucking light bulbs into this here reception area. Sixty-nine. And its still as dark your arsehole.”
Angie, the bottled blond receptionist, gave a stoner chuckle that made her bangles jangle. Gravy grinned at her. “Yeah, maybe Nige, but isn’t it a gorgeous arsehole?” he bent and lifted a corner of his skirt, turned on his heel swooshing the material up so Nigel caught the benefit of his arse cheeks and sky-blue thong.
Nigel blew out and rolled his eyes to the heavens.
Gravy took the stairs to the mezzanine level two at a time, got in the glass lift and waved at Angie as he made his way up.
Gravy will appear in Arlandria.
Foo Fighters Songs: Low. Lonely As You. February Stars.
Do you like Gravy? Comments welcome. x C x
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