Jamie Holland - One Thing Leads to Another

‘That dress is invitingly short,’ he had said to her, smirking and looking up and down her legs. Red with embarrassment and anger, Jessica had not been able to think of anything to say, so shot him a look of contempt instead. ‘Although, of course, I’d much rather see you without any dress on at all.’

Then he had winked, the doors had opened and he’d waited for her to walk out before following after her. He’d not actually touched her or been aggressively abusive, but Jessica had felt degraded and foolish, and to her horror had not been able to help imagining him writhing around on top of her, dribbling lustfully. Too disgusting; so she tried to picture lying on a Bermudan beach to erase the image.

Working for an advertising firm with progressive ideals meant that no member of staff had their own desk; instead each employee at Farrow and Keene had a trolley and a locker, a lap-top and a mobile phone. Having been forced to arrive early as she was suddenly frantically busy, despite feeling in a bean-bag mood, Jessica had settled down on one of the most coveted spots in the building. Then there had been the contretemps with Richard Keeble, and she had only just arrived back at her work-station when Rob turned the corner and appeared beside her.

Older than her by four or five years, Rob was a senior account executive whom she had initially quite liked; she had certainly been flattered that he had so obviously developed a crush on her. He was also much taller than her – always an important consideration – and she thought him reasonably pleasing to the eye. Ever since splitting up with Ed eight months before she had remained more or less single. She’d had a few flings, but nothing serious, and so when six weeks before Rob had asked her out for a drink, she’d accepted. He’d hardly bowled her over, but he had made her laugh and she’d quite enjoyed herself. Emboldened, he had then asked her out to dinner. Knowing the implications, Jessica had accepted – after all, he was offering to take her to Sartoria.

They had drunk good wines, followed by liqueurs, before going back to his flat in Notting Hill. By now quite drunk, she got into the cab with him, and he started to kiss her, gently at first and then hard and urgently. Vaguely aware that his style of snogging was a little aggressive for her tastes, she broke off. But by then they had reached his flat, and headed straight for his bedroom. Slightly cursing her drunken lack of self-control, she found herself looking up at his face, now etched with grim concentration, while he humped up and down on his black-sheeted bed.

That Saturday morning she made a quick escape. She hated mornings at the best of times, but on this occasion she had a persistently throbbing head and was disgusted with herself for letting things go so far the previous night. The last thing she wanted was any sort of conversation. So, making her excuses, she told him she had to drive down to her parents and that she’d see him next week.

Monday had been fine – not too awkward at work, and he had discreetly invited her back to his flat for supper. Although still a bit unsure about how she felt, she decided to go. From there the relationship moved forward, but not at all as Jessica had imagined. The first week found her liking him more and more, and she thought she might even want to go out with him properly – certainly his love-making seemed calmer. But then he became a bit … well, wet. He would say anything to please her and was no longer witty or interesting. When she began an argument – mainly to get a rise – he would simply acquiesce. She started avoiding him at work and finding excuses not to see him in the evening or at weekends. Eventually, she had realized that although he must have got the message, he had obviously chosen to ignore it, and so took him out for a drink and told him that any brief fling they might have had was over. He’d looked absolutely distraught, but then that wasn’t her fault. He would get over it; and she’d make sure never to become involved with anyone at work again.

After that he’d been away for a couple of weeks, but since coming back had continually tried to sit next to her at work. As a result, she’d taken to deliberately coming in later than him, which had meant having to put up with the worst workstations. That morning, though, she’d had to arrive early and Rob had yet again made a move to sit close by, until she’d warned him in no uncertain terms not to. She hadn’t seen him again until later after her meeting. He briskly sidled past her and dropped a note into her lap. She glared at him, but he was already walking off again with his back to her. She unfolded it and read:

Darling Jessica,

I know you think I was being a bit wet with you, but I swear I just wanted to make you happy. Now I know that’s not the way, I will be much more how I was when we first started going out. I know we can be great together, if only you could know how happy you make me! Please don’t ignore this – write back and let me take you out tonight and we’ll start again all over, with the new improved me .

Rob

Pathetic! Passing notes was the sort of thing schoolkids did. She felt exasperated. Her instinct was to ignore it and simply tear it up. But then she thought that perhaps resorting to his level was the only way to get through to him.

Rob [she wrote],

Can’t you see that by writing that ridiculous message you are being totally pathetic? I will never ever in a million years go out with you again – I’m sorry but it’s the truth. But please just leave me alone, or else I might have to take this harassment to a senior level .

Jessica

Being firm was the only way to deal with him and her annoyance with Rob and men in general renewed her disgust with Richard Keeble. Picking up her phone, she dialled his number.

‘Richard? This is Jessica Turpin.’

‘Oh, hi, Jessica, what can I do for you?’ came the reply.

‘I just want you to know that if you ever speak to me again like you did this morning, I will not be answerable for the consequences. I hope that’s clear. Goodbye.’

She put the phone down and returned to her screen with a sense of satisfaction. Maybe she had over-reacted, but it was important to nip these things in the bud. She had been far too lax with Rob and look what had happened there.

Lying on the sofa that evening, Jessica looked at the long length of her legs extending from her tiny black skirt, which in that position was even more revealing than normal. They were pretty good legs, she had to admit; she was lucky, especially as her mother was so small. All the same, she wondered whether maybe she should buy a trouser suit or two. The day’s events had upset her more than she’d imagined. And would she ever find someone she wanted to go out with for more than a few months? The longest relationship she’d ever had was with Ed and that had only been for a year. No one else had ever made it to the six-month mark. Why did all her boyfriends become so jealous and possessive? It was so tedious and so predictable, and made her feel that emotionally she hadn’t progressed from her teenage years. Admittedly, Rob had never exactly set her heart on fire, but she hadn’t expected him to crumble quite so quickly. She desperately hoped she would find someone to fall in love with, but sometimes seriously doubted it would ever happen. Perhaps she set her sights too high, expected too much. Perhaps she should ring Ed again. But then, even he had become a boring stay-at-home. And as soon as her ardour for him had started to cool, he’d turned into a drooling love-slave. Jessica sighed and turned back to her magazine. Really, it was too much, it really was.