It Started With a Bang

It began as a mistake dressed up as fun; the kind you think you can walk away from.

AI Image prompted by Catherine Knee

It started with a bang. Well, that is all it was meant to be!

There was the quick grope and fumble on the dancefloor with the bass of the music thundering so heavily through my veins that my shirt was vibrating, and I couldn’t hear myself think, let alone speak.

That was soon followed by some heavy snogging and heavier breathing in the car park, me counting my lucky stars that he didn’t reek of cigarettes and that such a pretty boy was giving me more than just the time of day. He was pretty; sleek and trim, not big or powerful like I normally went for. In fact, I knew he “swung both ways” as the euphemism went. Whatever, he was way out of my league looks-wise, and I was definitely having myself a bit of that since it was available!

It wasn’t long before there was a mad dash home at an indecent speed, even though it was breaking my own rule, bringing a man to my home for a bit of horizontal gymnastics. Did I say horizontal? Well, it was horizontal, vertical, even pretzel at some points of the night, amongst other body shapes I can’t even begin to describe.

Ah, I know, I hear the weight of your judgement, but what the hell! Who cares? It was all meant to be just a bit of fun.

It was too much fun, to be honest, and I was a bit too old for that kind of malarky, or so my aching limbs and back were quick to tell me. In fact, it was so much fun that the neighbours started to bang on my wall and yell obscenities at me; although it took a bit of time to differentiate the banging on the wall by the neighbours from the banging on the wall by my headboard, or even hear any banging at all over the sound of my screaming. Pretty boy knew how to play!

As with all nights of illicit and wanton passion, morning eventually peeked over the horizon, tentatively checking to see if it was safe to show its blushing face. Morning had arrived; the sun was up; the male was still in my bed. Why?

 I wanted him to go home. His use was finished now, (and I was totally finished, barely able to sit up), so why did he stay? I had enjoyed the spoils of my evening hunt, and now I wanted the gentle peace of a contented lazy morning on my own. But no! The bastard was still there! He didn’t have the decency to scurry away in the dark, like the rat he was.

 I stared at his sleeping form, noting the jet-black hair that was so at odds with his pale skin. He opened his eyes, and I noticed how blue they were. I don’t recall ever seeing such black hair and blue eyes before. He looked like a stereotypical someone out of a romance novel. I nearly asked why the hell he was with me, but of course, I knew why. Obviously, it was because I was available. Men were not really fussy when something was offered easily and freely, no matter how much they pretended otherwise.

 Eventually, when it was bordering on becoming awkward, I begrudgingly thought I should offer breakfast. Yeah, I don’t even eat breakfast myself, but now I had to be all domesticated and shit for a person I didn’t even know the name of.

 Yes, yes, I heard you gasp inside! I am sure I must have known his name. He must have told me at some point in the evening before, but I hadn’t really cared enough to commit it to memory. I didn’t care what his name was the night before, or even that morning, to be honest, but I did sort of wish I could bring the name to mind. I wondered for a second or two; did I actually bother to get his name the night before? I shrugged off the thought. He was just a man. Did it matter what name he went by? They were only good for one thing and their names didn’t affect that at all.

So, breakfast.

“Um… “ I started ineffectually, “ Umm… do you want something to eat?” That is not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say, “Oi mate, what the hell are you still doing in my bed? Go the hell home already!” But, although I had the morals of an alley-cat, I wasn’t essentially a horrible person, so I tried to be polite. Lucky me, he didn’t eat breakfast either. Even luckier me, he very quickly gave me good reason to be delighted that he had actually stayed over.

It was just as well that I was off work for a while, because the nameless male and I were very, very, busy for four days in a row, and I can tell you, there were not a lot of any meals that were had, let alone breakfast.

Two weeks later he was still there, and I had lost over a stone in weight from the constant exercise and what felt like near starvation. Too goddamn busy to eat!

After the more than excessive two weeks, we began to be a little more civilised, now having more than the occasional meal, and even bothering to go to his place at one point to get him some clothing, since we anticipated that we would actually begin to need some soon.

I went back to work after the two-week hiatus, but it seemed pointless to send him home, so, I kept him, and he just sort of stayed on. At some point, I asked his full name, mostly in order to get just his first name, (such subterfuge), so I did get to know it after an indecent amount of time.

 It started with a bang, and it ended with a whimper, about seven years later, although he never did actually leave. It was me that moved out.

Inspiration

This piece came from a flash fiction prompt built around the phrase “It started with a bang”, and my brain immediately went to the less polite interpretation of that phrase. I have always had a tendency to take prompts sideways rather than straight on, and this one felt too obvious to ignore.

The core of the story is drawn from a real experience, but reshaped to make it more interesting to read. I am more interested in how they felt at the time; the impulsiveness, the poor decisions, and the slow realisation that something casual has quietly turned into something much harder to step away from.

I like exploring those moments where people act first and think later, especially when the consequences are not dramatic or explosive, but instead settle in and stay. There is something far more unsettling about something that does not leave when it should.

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Summary

A raw and candid short story by Catherine Knee exploring impulsive relationships, casual encounters, and the unexpected long term consequences of a one night stand.