(First published in 2009: ‘HA-Ha Laughter’ by Smink Work Books)
Cocky and the Virgin Space
I met Phillip late one afternoon in a long check-out line.
‘I hate this.’
‘Me too. I’m Phillip.’
‘I feel like walking out, leaving the trolley. I’m Jacky.’
‘Yeah. Wanna go get a beer? We could come back later, see if they’ve put all the stuff back on the shelf.’
He wasn’t handsome. He couldn’t help that. I saw the frozen dinners-for-one in his basket and understood his loneliness. I saw the angry divots on his face and knew his pain. I sensed a warm chest inside his checked flannelette shirt and imagined the sleeping jack-in-the-box behind the dull metal zipper of his Levi’s.
The invitation was spontaneous enough to get me interested. After eight hours of brain death at Kev’s Karpet Kingdom, my high point was arriving home and letting Cocky out. He’d go berserk—flapping and screeching, shitting all over the apartment while I chased him around, laughing my head off. Eventually I’d throw my coat over him and pop him back into his cage. He’d be dead boring after that. I guess he was sitting there thinking about hearing my key in the door the following afternoon; the fun we’d have.
I warned Phillip about Cocky as we walked inside. He said he didn’t like birds, but I just kept thinking about having sex, as opposed to thinking about not having sex. As it happened, Cocky didn’t like Phillip either. It turned out to be pretty exciting for everyone.
‘Get it away from me.’
‘He’s just checking you out.’
‘No. I mean it Jacky.’
Cocky was jealous. Kept going for Phillip’s head. I couldn’t stop laughing. Phillip tried to protect himself with an overturned plastic fruit-bowl. Cocky wasn’t deterred. I felt immensely proud. Eventually, Phillip dived under my bed.
I was surprised by how much more aroused I became just knowing a man was under my bed. He said he was staying there ‘til I locked Cocky away. I took my time, basking in the knowledge that if anyone knocked on the door, like someone collecting for the Hearts Without Blood appeal (if there was such an appeal) I could stand there talking through the screen door and for the entire time they wouldn’t know there was a man under my bed.
‘Sweet Jesus! You do this every afternoon?’
‘He needs to stretch his wings. It’s like taking your dog for a daily walk.’
Cocky flew to the floor and watched Phillip’s every move. He was staying vigilant in case I needed protection.
‘That bird’s watching me.’
‘He’s just feeling territorial.’
‘Can’t you lock him away? Cover him up?’
Not wanting to give Cocky the sheet-treatment too early, I suggested Phillip stay under the bed; offered to join him; told him there’d be benefits.
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No. It’ll be fun.’
‘There’s no room under here.’
There was a moment’s hesitation, then he looked back at Cocky, saw the determination in his beady, little eyes. I wriggled in beside Phillip, eased his bony hands up under my c-cup, sucked on his tongue, helped him unzip. I let him wrangle with my skirt ‘til it was around my waist and tug down my undies. I honestly didn’t think there’d be room for anything more than awkward sideways recreation.
‘Jesus Jacky, I’m about to explode!’
‘Move down a bit. Now pry the top of my thighs apart. Right there. That’s it! Push!’
We slept a while under there, like two contented kids in a cubby house. When I crawled out to lock Cocky away I had years of fluff stuck to the sticky trails on the back of my butt.
After Phillip went home I peeked under Cocky’s sheet. His little eyes were shut. I almost cried, he looked so cute. After such a fun time I found myself wondering how many supermarkets there might be between Kev’s Karpet Kingdom and my apartment. I went online and counted eleven. Admittedly, some were a little out of the way.
I took notes on store location, trading hours, and memorized each route. Afterwards, I wandered about checking for other virgin spaces inside my apartment. If I included the skinny pantry after all the shelves were removed there were seven possibilities! Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…