*
The Picnic on the Island
This is a memory of a pleasant afternoon I once had.
I'd been working with VEM Engineering for some months, but I knew only a few people there: most were still nameless faces.
At a Party
We were at a party. "We" means me and Tom; Tom, whom I'd known for Lord knows how long.
I was dancing in the living room with a very small man: Tom was laughing in the doorway, "the way you move your arms when you dance is so ridiculous. You're just like a penguin."
Anyway, the small man became tired and so now Tom and I stood chatting near a sofa in which two women lolled, one in black and one in pink.
"You get the one in pink," whispered Tom.
I looked across as discreetly as I could. He hadn't left me the prettier, of course. That was to be expected with Tom. But mine had an agreeable face, with thick dark brown hair. Her legs extended elegantly from a brief fuchsia frock.
His intended, a blonde woman in an abbreviated black cocktail dress, had considerable make up and huge breasts. Gratifyingly, these were largely on display.
She raised her glass to Tom.
He went across. "Allow us to introduce ourselves, I'm Tom, and this is Caspasian."
"Hi," said the woman in black, "I'm Lara." The dark haired woman in pink smiled, "I'm Bruna. "
Lara said, "it's delightful to meet you, but unfortunately we're just leaving."
"My heart is sore," said Tom.
"Well, yes, but..." she indicated her cellphone as if it had some totemic meaning.
"Another time, I hope," said Bruna, demurely.
In the Park
Some weeks passed and Tom and I were in the park...a summer's day, the sun generous. I carried things for a picnic in two bags. We had hired a little boat and were approaching the lake, where it was tethered by a pier.
"Look" said Tom, "it's the two women from the party!"
Indeed it was, albeit much more casually dressed if, amusingly, in the same colours: Lara in black shorts and Bruna in a pink mini skirt.
Tom spoke, "Hello again, how nice to see you. We met at the party last weekend up in Highbury."
"Yes indeed. So sorry we had to run off," replied Lara.
"We have a boat, why don't you come with us to the island?"
The island lay 30 meters across the water. There: great sycamores and weeping willows, a lawn and a neo-classical gazebo under which a table and three chairs welcomed voyagers.
The women looked at us and at each other.
"Is it really worth visiting?" asked Lara.
"Anywhere is worth visiting in the right company," answered Tom, sagely.
"Especially so if you have a some chilled wine," I added, holding up the bag containing our bottles of Muscadet.
"I'm not sure," said Lara. "I have a boyfriend," she added unenthusiastically.
"So do I," said Bruna, even less eagerly.
"Well," said Tom, "you now have two."
"And, if that isn't enough," I said, holding up the carrier bag containing our food, "you are welcome to as much pie, cake, fruit and cheese as your hearts might desire."
Lara and Bruna exchanged a glance. "Give us a moment," said Lara. They took their phones out, and turned briefly aside.
Tom and I went over to the boat, and sorted the oars and affected nonchalance.
On the Island
Then we were on the island, lazing on a picnic blanket with the lunch treats placed in the centre.
"So what do you gentlemen do, when you aren't hosting picnics?" asked Lara.
"Occasionally I work," said Tom, with an air of wounded dignity.
"And what about you?" said Bruna. "Well...yes I have such moments too," I responded vaguely. A pause, then, "actually, I'm an engineer. For a big firm called V.E.M."
The girls looked at each other and then laughed uncontrollably, as if that were the funniest thing imaginable.
Tom freed the pie from its paper wrapping, revealing the magnificent bronze pastry structure we'd purchased from a butcher which was filled with almost every delicacy imaginable, including game, apricots and pieces of apple.
I was astonished by the eagerness with which the woman ate, quite like hungry wolves. Tom must have been thinking the same thing: he caught my eye and grinned.
The party rolled along, the pie demolished, then the cheese. We sank the wine, then the women lay there and we proceeded to feed them slices of peach and mango, Lara produced a little spliff to share: happily doped, the women became amorous: Lara pushing herself close to Tom and ditto Bruna to me and so on and so forth - all very agreeable, to say the least.
Yes, the party certainly was something of a success. But the weather had shifted and we felt droplets of rain. We packed the debris and folded up the blanket and took to our boat.
Tom said, as he rowed us back to shore, "you know you girls are quite good company."
"I second that," I said, my arms round Bruna, who nestled close on the seat." She tipped her face up and we kissed.
The Return to Shore
"Oh God," said Lara, as we approached the little pier.
"What?" said Bruna. Then she looked over. "Oh fuck."
There were two men waiting.
"Oh dear" said Tom, looking round then rowing more slowly. "I don't like the look of them."
"Jesus," I added, as we approached. One was tall with a black t-shirt. The other was even taller with an even blacker t-shirt bearing a jagged symbol. Both had huge beards.
Tom, now rowing with considerable reluctance, groaned.
"I didn't think they were coming?" said Bruna.
"Neither did I," said Lara, woefully.
The men grew even bigger as we drew closer. I could see tattoos on the taller man's inflated biceps, a skull and Gothic script. On the smaller man's hefty forearm was a massive dagger: blood dripped from the cruel blade.
Tom rowed, very slowly. "Maybe we should go back to the island?" he whispered.
"Oh fuck," swore Lara as we drew nearer.
We hit the pier. I found the faces of the men familiar, but could not place them.
But nothing happened, except a sort of embarrassment which hovered above us all as the bearded muscle-men helped the women from the boat. Arms linked, they disappeared.
*
.jpg)
Interesting little story!
ReplyDelete