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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Household Goods
by Vicky S
 What did Phil really get up to while Jill was away? This intriguing contribution to the Fantasy Archers topic of .
"So how are you getting along all on your lonesome," said Susan with a winsome smile that made Phil flinch. "We've got some very reasonable meals for one in the freezer you know, my Neil's had them a few times when I've been late stocktaking and he says they're quite tasty really."
"Thankyou," said Phil, "But this is all I came in for."
"Well if you're sure." Susan paused. "I hope you don't mind me saying so but Mrs Archer usually gets the medium."
"Thank you," repeated Phil firmly, "but this is really all I need. No, that's all right, I don't need a bag. Thank you. Bye."
He pushed his purchase deep into his pocket and left the shop so quickly he nearly flattened a display labelled "For Fathers Day" without even noticing the missing apostrophe.
***
Phil double-checked the back door. The last thing he wanted was another uninvited relative bursting in on him. When he got upstairs he paused for a moment. Bathroom or bedroom? Bathroom he decided, somehow it seemed more fitting.
To his surprise he found himself feeling a bit trembly, so he lowered the lavatory lid and sat down for a moment. He breathed deeply until his heart stopped pounding, then wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
Slowly he pulled the packet from his pocket. He stroked the polythene packaging smooth where it had creased. Holding the packet firmly he ripped a small hole with his teeth. Instantly an intoxicating smell filled his nostrils and he breathed it in deeply. Never before had he been free to relish the fresh, clean scent; his only previous experiences had been tantalisingly fleeting, and usually adulterated by other, harsher smells.
He removed the packaging and at last the objects of his desire were exposed. He laid them on his knee and stroked them gently, marvelling at how the different textures and shapes fitted together into a seamless whole. The undulating ribbing, the gentle curves, the smooth length of the back, and best of all, the virgin white inside, as soft and fleecy as the finest down. Becoming bolder, he held them between his hands and pulled gently. For several moments he watched them elongate and relax. Elongate and relax.
Then it was time. He put the right one on first, almost reluctant to pull hard in case he damaged it, but as it slipped on he became bolder and pulled firmly so that it slid on quite smoothly. The second one was harder. He had to grip it awkwardly with clumsy fingers.
But at last they were on. He stood up so that he could see his reflection in the mirror. He raised his hands and flexed them. The fit was perfect. The smooth rubber followed the shape of his hands to perfection. Even when he made a fist the material moulded itself faithfully in its desire to protect. He pulled at the left wrist sharply and winced at the sharp SNAP of rubber against flesh. He had been right to choose extra large. And right to choose yellow.
For a few more minutes he enjoyed the feel of the clean immaculate gloves on his hands, then, without regret, he removed them. He would not use them of course, nor would he keep them, although he felt some remorse at the waste. It had been enough. His thirst was slaked.
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Archers fantasies
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