The Jitters - Excerpt

Luke’s boyfriend Trevor was one of those people, or at least Luke currently thought so.
   “Come on, Trev. Lighten up. It was just a little joke, a jest, a tease, ha-ha and all that.”

Alas, Trevor was in Queen Victoria mode.

  “Well I’m not amused, not at all.”

Luke sighed. Obviously Trev had had a humour bypass operation on the quiet and it had been a complete success. He made his voice sound ingratiating. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but it’s not really my fault, not when you think about it. You did say ‘anything’ you did, admit it.”
 

“Come out from under that bed, you coward, and we’ll discuss the subject of literality face to face.”
 

 “Do I have your assurance that you won’t harm so much as a hair on my chinny-chin-chin?”
 

“No. I’m going to strangle you. I have the right after what you’ve done.”
 

“Then I’m staying put.”
 

“Fine,” the bed springs creaked ominously and the mattress went down. “I can wait.”

Luke knew that had the bed not been custom made of solid oak, requiring at least three strong people to shift it, Trevor would have flung it aside by now and collared him.
He tried again to justify his action. “You’ve hardly spoken a word to me all week. It’s been all work, work, work. You know what they say, all work and no play makes Trevor a dull boy and Luke a bored and fed up one. I just wanted to grab your attention. Call it a domestic marketing ploy”

  “I’ll ploy you when I get my hands on you.”

  “Come on, don’t you think it was a little bit funny?” 
Trevor’s reply was emphatic.

  “No.”

  “You wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t told you.”

  “True, but you did tell me, Luke, so I do know, and I’m not happy about it.”

  “You ate it all, so you must have enjoyed it an itsy bit?”

  “I ate it all because I was ravenous and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying how disgusting it was.”

Aw, Luke smiled, that was his Trevor, all caring thoughtfulness.

  “However, when I lay hands on you I’m going to hurt more than your fucking feelings. I’m going to rip off your arms and beat you to death with the soggy ends.”

However, when it came to the dropping of other things Luke’s mirth was more circumspect. In the case of a dropped mug of strong black coffee it was noticeable by its complete absence.
The dropped coffee was bad news on two counts. The china mug, an expensive affair depicting amorous ancient Greeks, was rendered useless by the fall. It would never again serve as a drinking vessel. Worse, the contents of the mug had spewed across the brand new carpet. The carpet did not suit coffee stains, they besmirched its pale sophistication.

  “Shit!” Luke stared in dismay at the result of his clumsiness. He had meant to place the mug of coffee on the desk, but had misjudged the edge and it had crashed to the floor. He really ought to wear his glasses more, but vanity had persuaded him he preferred to see the world with fuzzy edges. He had nice eyes, everyone said so, they were his best feature, so why obscure them.

Galloping downstairs to the kitchen he filled a bowl with hot soapy water, threw in a cloth and carried it back up to the study.

It didn’t help. It made things worse, oh so much worse. Luke stopped rubbing and scrubbing.

The stains seemed to have spread, slightly paler in hue, but bigger in area. The expensive new carpet now looked like a gypsy pony on a wet day, pinto and bedraggled.
“Fuck!” Luke pushed a wet hand through his hair making it stand up in damp little spikes. He chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip. Perhaps the carpet wouldn’t look so bad once it dried out? Maybe the staining was now more to do with water saturation than coffee? He’d been aqua lavish in his efforts to rinse the latter away. He needed to dry it fast, before Trev got home from work, but how?

copyright Fabian Black 2011