ticklebug101
1st Level Red Feather
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Well, this is my first time posting in the non tickling story section. This is the love story I've been working on. Doubtful it's gonna be good enough for the contest I wanna put it into but opinions will be appriciated nontheless. It still needs to be edited and spell checked etc, so for any mistakes or paragraph control issues, my apologies. Enjoy. Thanks folks,
Bug 🙂
Adele flows from the speakers and fills the room, singing about how we could have had it all. I inwardly roll my eyes. Please, who ever has it all? Her
warbling is suddenly interupted by the phone. I know who it is already. "Hello Rebecca. Of course I knew who it was, he's going to be here soon. You always
call before a blind date shows up. Yes, everything is fine. I need to go, he's just buzzed. Yeah, I love you too. Bye." I hang up. Ok so he hadn't showed up
yet, but sometimes it can be hard to get my cousin off the phone. I look up and the clock on the wall tells me I have ten minutes until the latest guy
shows up. I sit, brushing my blue silky dress down to make sure there are no wrinkles. I lean back in my armchair and close my eyes, remembering the last date
my cousin had set me up on. She did this at every chance she got. Sometimes it was annoying but she had good intentions. All she wanted was to see me happy.
She was one of the very few people who actualy stayed in touch with practicaly everyone she went to school with. That was why she knew so many guys. Sometimes
I amused myself by imagining she held open auditions. Do you think you could be my cousin's happy ever after? Come along and we'll put you through your paces.
The last date actualy wasn't that bad. His name was James, he was a bit older than me at twenty eight, and he worked as an estate agent. The evening had gone
well and I got a text from him the next day but for me, there was no spark. So I had let him down gently and we had both moved on. Just as my mind started to
wander back to the date before James, who's name was Luke, my thoughts are interrupted by the buzzer from downstairs. I get up and buzz him in. He knocks on
the front door and I think to myself here we go again.
*******************************************
I open the door and do my usual visual sweep. Ok, so he's quite tall, I would guess about five foot
eight, floppy black hair that he's obviously tried to tame with a comb, dark brown eyes. All in all, not too bad. He smiles as I stand to the side to let him
in. Then he holds out his hand. "Jack," he tells me, and I shake his hand. Reasonably firm grip. "Gemma. Come through." I take him to the living room.
"Something smells good," says Jack, looking around. "I hope you like lasagne. Wine?" "Red please." I smile. "Excuse me a sec." I walk to the kitchen and get
two glasess down from the cupboard, then go to the fridge. I pour, then take the two glasess back through, handing one to Jack. "Thanks. Here's to a hopefuly
fantastic evening." We clink. "Nice," he comments, and sets his glass on the table beside him. "So, Rebecca tells me she sets you up a lot," said Jack, "any
luck yet?" Thanks a bunch Becky I think before I reply. "Oh yes, every chance she gets. My cousin is one of those rare people who actualy stays in touch with
everyone she went to school with. Then of course she meets theire friends and familes so she knows a lot of guys. No luck as yet though, sadly." He looks at me
sympatheticaly. "I know what you mean. What with work and all the rest of it there's no time to meet anyone outside your usual circle. And then of course I
have to make time to go and see Hannah every weekend, which is one of the things I just won't stop doing. She's too important." I can feel the curiosity cross
my own expression. Jack swallows more wine before he answers. "My daughter, she's nearly six. Since the divorce my ex has let Hannah come stay with me every weekend. I pick her up after work on Friday and take her home on Sunday. I love the end of the week." He smiles, a look of unconditional love in his eyes. It's heartwarming to see.
I'm about to reply when we're interrupted by the oven timer. "Oohh, dinner's done." I stand up and jack does the same, following me to the kitchen. "Oven
gloves?" he asks. Mildy surprised, I point to one of the drawers. He gets them out and I turn the oven off. "Allow me," he says, and stoops down to get the
lasagne out, then puts it on top of the oven. "Thankyou," I say, grabbing two plates. Jack brings it over to the table and sets it down while I grab a knife.
I cut us both some and dish up. "There, done. Sit," I tell Jack, and I go to find some forks. He sits, and I slide in oppisite him. "Your daughter obviously
means a lot to you," I comment, starting my dinner. Not bad if I do say so myself. "Oh I adore Hannah, she means the world to me. I've been trying to work out
what to get her this year. It's always difficult because being so young, her tastes seem to change every week. I'll have to ask the ex." He mumbles and nods
his head as he eats. From his smile, I take it as a good sign. We eat in silence for a few minutes as the CD in the other room comes to an end. He breaks the
silence first. "So what do you do?" he asks. "I work in a dungeon," I reply matter of factly. His eyebrows shoot up so much they're almost lost in his
hairline. I laugh. "I do love people's reactions when I say that. It's the kind of dungeon you can take peope around on tours." Realization dawns and his
eyebrows come down. "Oh! So it's like a horror tour thing?" I nod, still smiling. "Yeah. I get to dress up and wear FX wounds and everything, it's brilliant."
He returns my smile, an expression of interest taking over the shock. "That actualy sounds really cool," he comments, "do you get to jump out and scare
people?" I can feel the gleam in my eyes as I answer him. "Oh yeah all the time. They do have to teach you to stand really still though. That way, people
think you're a statue and it's a bigger shock when you jump to life." He laughs softly and goes back to his dinner. "That is brilliant. Makes my working in a
bank sound really boring in comparison." I inwardly agree, but I keep quiet. Tonight is going well and I would hate to ruin it by causing offence. Jack's look
of interest is still evident in his eyes as he keeps talking, and I can tell more questions are coming. "So, what do you do when you take them on tours?" There we go, I think to myself, I was right. "Well, there are lots of different areas in the dungeon. There are cages everywhere with staff dressed up as
16th century pesents, and at one point, I get to tell people about the history of the black death. Sorry, are you alright with this subject at the dinner table?"
I ask, "if I go into detail it can get a bit graphic." Jack shakes his head.
"No it's fine," he says, "I love the grusome bits of history. Strong
stomach," he adds, and winks at me. I grin, impressed with his tolerance with grusome facts, and carry on with my explanation of what I do at work. "Well,
when a new tour group comes around, my speech starts with the phrase bring out your dead." He snorts with laughter but waves his hand, telling me I can
carry on. "We have a torture chamber, and the chamber Master, as he's known, will take you through all of the impliments they used to use for punishment or
interrogation. Sometimes, I don't know how Tyler dosen't go home with nightmares he goes into such graphic detail." I'm greatful that Jack is still smiling
when I come up for air. "I know what you're thinking, and you're right, I probably should be horrified. But I just find all of this stuff
so interesting." I nod and reply, "I have to admit, I am impressed with the strength of your stomach so far." A proud look comes over his face.
"I watch a lot of horror films, details don't bother me." I nod, impressed. "So what else do you have?" I carry on giving him a verbal tour of the dungeon,
and we're at the dinner table for a lot longer than I had planned.
When I'm finished talking, I clear the plates and go back to the fridge. "Gemma that was lovely," says Jack, linking his fingers together and resting his chin
on his hands. "Good," I say from the fridge, "did you save room? I made a cheesecake." I withdraw from the fridge and set it on the table. "Well I think my lasagne has gone down a bit by now," he says, smiling. An apologetic look crosess my face and I say, "sorry, have I been talking too much? I do tend to get very enthusiastic when I talk about what we have at work."
"No not at all," he replies, "I'm loving hearing about all of this stuff." I check his expression and he does still seem genuinley interested. He looks at me
for a moment, maybe just a few seconds too long, before he turns his attention to dessert. I smile to myself then follow his gaze back to the table.
"That looks nice, what's in it?" I get bowls and spoons as I reply, "passion fruit." He smiles as I cut into it and serve. "Thankyou," he says and waits for
me to sit. "Dig in," I tell him, and he does. "Mmmmm, you can really cook." I smile and start. Oh he's right I realize as I eat, I can. After we've made short
work of dessert, Jack helps me clear up, then we go back to the other room. "I come armed with wine if you would like a top up," I say, pouring myself some
more. "Please, this is nice stuff." I pour him some and look at the label "Oh it's french, from 2006," I read. He nods as he takes a sip, then puts it back on
the table. "Yeah that is nice. So where did you learn to cook?" I set the bottle down before I reply, "from the fountain of all knowledge that is my mother."
He laughs. "Ah, yes of course. She's a wonderful teacher." I smile in appriciation and raise my glass in his direction. He follows suit and we clink. After
another sip, I get up to put another CD on. This time, violins pour out of the speakers and flow around the room before the vocals start. I smile and lean
back in my chair as my ears are treated to the smooth voice of Andrea Boccelli. Jack smiles at me. "That's a very dreamy expression," he comments. "Sorry," I
smile back and try to come back to reality, "I love this guy."
He shakes his head. "No it's fine, it's nice to see you enjoy it so much. And I love the way you talk about work, there's so much passion behind your words.
I don't think people are passionate about theire work much anymore." I smile sadly. "Yes it's a bit depressing when you think about it," I say, "a lack of
passion means a lack of folks who actualy enjoy what they do." "Very true. I take it this CD is played a lot?" I nod slowly as the music flows around the room.
"Oh yes," I reply, "lots. I play it whenever I need to come home and mentaly unwind, it's very good for that." He nods in agreement and we listen in silence as
the first track comes to an end. I absent mindedly strum my fingers on the arm of my chair as the second track starts. Jack smiles at me again and I smile back, thinking yes, I must thank my cousin, because tonight has gone very well.
Ok that's not all of it, but if I get good, positive comments I will post the last chunk. Good or not folks? Let me know 🙂
Bug 🙂
Adele flows from the speakers and fills the room, singing about how we could have had it all. I inwardly roll my eyes. Please, who ever has it all? Her
warbling is suddenly interupted by the phone. I know who it is already. "Hello Rebecca. Of course I knew who it was, he's going to be here soon. You always
call before a blind date shows up. Yes, everything is fine. I need to go, he's just buzzed. Yeah, I love you too. Bye." I hang up. Ok so he hadn't showed up
yet, but sometimes it can be hard to get my cousin off the phone. I look up and the clock on the wall tells me I have ten minutes until the latest guy
shows up. I sit, brushing my blue silky dress down to make sure there are no wrinkles. I lean back in my armchair and close my eyes, remembering the last date
my cousin had set me up on. She did this at every chance she got. Sometimes it was annoying but she had good intentions. All she wanted was to see me happy.
She was one of the very few people who actualy stayed in touch with practicaly everyone she went to school with. That was why she knew so many guys. Sometimes
I amused myself by imagining she held open auditions. Do you think you could be my cousin's happy ever after? Come along and we'll put you through your paces.
The last date actualy wasn't that bad. His name was James, he was a bit older than me at twenty eight, and he worked as an estate agent. The evening had gone
well and I got a text from him the next day but for me, there was no spark. So I had let him down gently and we had both moved on. Just as my mind started to
wander back to the date before James, who's name was Luke, my thoughts are interrupted by the buzzer from downstairs. I get up and buzz him in. He knocks on
the front door and I think to myself here we go again.
*******************************************
I open the door and do my usual visual sweep. Ok, so he's quite tall, I would guess about five foot
eight, floppy black hair that he's obviously tried to tame with a comb, dark brown eyes. All in all, not too bad. He smiles as I stand to the side to let him
in. Then he holds out his hand. "Jack," he tells me, and I shake his hand. Reasonably firm grip. "Gemma. Come through." I take him to the living room.
"Something smells good," says Jack, looking around. "I hope you like lasagne. Wine?" "Red please." I smile. "Excuse me a sec." I walk to the kitchen and get
two glasess down from the cupboard, then go to the fridge. I pour, then take the two glasess back through, handing one to Jack. "Thanks. Here's to a hopefuly
fantastic evening." We clink. "Nice," he comments, and sets his glass on the table beside him. "So, Rebecca tells me she sets you up a lot," said Jack, "any
luck yet?" Thanks a bunch Becky I think before I reply. "Oh yes, every chance she gets. My cousin is one of those rare people who actualy stays in touch with
everyone she went to school with. Then of course she meets theire friends and familes so she knows a lot of guys. No luck as yet though, sadly." He looks at me
sympatheticaly. "I know what you mean. What with work and all the rest of it there's no time to meet anyone outside your usual circle. And then of course I
have to make time to go and see Hannah every weekend, which is one of the things I just won't stop doing. She's too important." I can feel the curiosity cross
my own expression. Jack swallows more wine before he answers. "My daughter, she's nearly six. Since the divorce my ex has let Hannah come stay with me every weekend. I pick her up after work on Friday and take her home on Sunday. I love the end of the week." He smiles, a look of unconditional love in his eyes. It's heartwarming to see.
I'm about to reply when we're interrupted by the oven timer. "Oohh, dinner's done." I stand up and jack does the same, following me to the kitchen. "Oven
gloves?" he asks. Mildy surprised, I point to one of the drawers. He gets them out and I turn the oven off. "Allow me," he says, and stoops down to get the
lasagne out, then puts it on top of the oven. "Thankyou," I say, grabbing two plates. Jack brings it over to the table and sets it down while I grab a knife.
I cut us both some and dish up. "There, done. Sit," I tell Jack, and I go to find some forks. He sits, and I slide in oppisite him. "Your daughter obviously
means a lot to you," I comment, starting my dinner. Not bad if I do say so myself. "Oh I adore Hannah, she means the world to me. I've been trying to work out
what to get her this year. It's always difficult because being so young, her tastes seem to change every week. I'll have to ask the ex." He mumbles and nods
his head as he eats. From his smile, I take it as a good sign. We eat in silence for a few minutes as the CD in the other room comes to an end. He breaks the
silence first. "So what do you do?" he asks. "I work in a dungeon," I reply matter of factly. His eyebrows shoot up so much they're almost lost in his
hairline. I laugh. "I do love people's reactions when I say that. It's the kind of dungeon you can take peope around on tours." Realization dawns and his
eyebrows come down. "Oh! So it's like a horror tour thing?" I nod, still smiling. "Yeah. I get to dress up and wear FX wounds and everything, it's brilliant."
He returns my smile, an expression of interest taking over the shock. "That actualy sounds really cool," he comments, "do you get to jump out and scare
people?" I can feel the gleam in my eyes as I answer him. "Oh yeah all the time. They do have to teach you to stand really still though. That way, people
think you're a statue and it's a bigger shock when you jump to life." He laughs softly and goes back to his dinner. "That is brilliant. Makes my working in a
bank sound really boring in comparison." I inwardly agree, but I keep quiet. Tonight is going well and I would hate to ruin it by causing offence. Jack's look
of interest is still evident in his eyes as he keeps talking, and I can tell more questions are coming. "So, what do you do when you take them on tours?" There we go, I think to myself, I was right. "Well, there are lots of different areas in the dungeon. There are cages everywhere with staff dressed up as
16th century pesents, and at one point, I get to tell people about the history of the black death. Sorry, are you alright with this subject at the dinner table?"
I ask, "if I go into detail it can get a bit graphic." Jack shakes his head.
"No it's fine," he says, "I love the grusome bits of history. Strong
stomach," he adds, and winks at me. I grin, impressed with his tolerance with grusome facts, and carry on with my explanation of what I do at work. "Well,
when a new tour group comes around, my speech starts with the phrase bring out your dead." He snorts with laughter but waves his hand, telling me I can
carry on. "We have a torture chamber, and the chamber Master, as he's known, will take you through all of the impliments they used to use for punishment or
interrogation. Sometimes, I don't know how Tyler dosen't go home with nightmares he goes into such graphic detail." I'm greatful that Jack is still smiling
when I come up for air. "I know what you're thinking, and you're right, I probably should be horrified. But I just find all of this stuff
so interesting." I nod and reply, "I have to admit, I am impressed with the strength of your stomach so far." A proud look comes over his face.
"I watch a lot of horror films, details don't bother me." I nod, impressed. "So what else do you have?" I carry on giving him a verbal tour of the dungeon,
and we're at the dinner table for a lot longer than I had planned.
When I'm finished talking, I clear the plates and go back to the fridge. "Gemma that was lovely," says Jack, linking his fingers together and resting his chin
on his hands. "Good," I say from the fridge, "did you save room? I made a cheesecake." I withdraw from the fridge and set it on the table. "Well I think my lasagne has gone down a bit by now," he says, smiling. An apologetic look crosess my face and I say, "sorry, have I been talking too much? I do tend to get very enthusiastic when I talk about what we have at work."
"No not at all," he replies, "I'm loving hearing about all of this stuff." I check his expression and he does still seem genuinley interested. He looks at me
for a moment, maybe just a few seconds too long, before he turns his attention to dessert. I smile to myself then follow his gaze back to the table.
"That looks nice, what's in it?" I get bowls and spoons as I reply, "passion fruit." He smiles as I cut into it and serve. "Thankyou," he says and waits for
me to sit. "Dig in," I tell him, and he does. "Mmmmm, you can really cook." I smile and start. Oh he's right I realize as I eat, I can. After we've made short
work of dessert, Jack helps me clear up, then we go back to the other room. "I come armed with wine if you would like a top up," I say, pouring myself some
more. "Please, this is nice stuff." I pour him some and look at the label "Oh it's french, from 2006," I read. He nods as he takes a sip, then puts it back on
the table. "Yeah that is nice. So where did you learn to cook?" I set the bottle down before I reply, "from the fountain of all knowledge that is my mother."
He laughs. "Ah, yes of course. She's a wonderful teacher." I smile in appriciation and raise my glass in his direction. He follows suit and we clink. After
another sip, I get up to put another CD on. This time, violins pour out of the speakers and flow around the room before the vocals start. I smile and lean
back in my chair as my ears are treated to the smooth voice of Andrea Boccelli. Jack smiles at me. "That's a very dreamy expression," he comments. "Sorry," I
smile back and try to come back to reality, "I love this guy."
He shakes his head. "No it's fine, it's nice to see you enjoy it so much. And I love the way you talk about work, there's so much passion behind your words.
I don't think people are passionate about theire work much anymore." I smile sadly. "Yes it's a bit depressing when you think about it," I say, "a lack of
passion means a lack of folks who actualy enjoy what they do." "Very true. I take it this CD is played a lot?" I nod slowly as the music flows around the room.
"Oh yes," I reply, "lots. I play it whenever I need to come home and mentaly unwind, it's very good for that." He nods in agreement and we listen in silence as
the first track comes to an end. I absent mindedly strum my fingers on the arm of my chair as the second track starts. Jack smiles at me again and I smile back, thinking yes, I must thank my cousin, because tonight has gone very well.
Ok that's not all of it, but if I get good, positive comments I will post the last chunk. Good or not folks? Let me know 🙂
