Between The Angel and The Devil - Chapter Three

That was potentially the worst night’s sleep of my life. Periodically I woke every three hours. The first time was a shock, because I found Panda lying next to me. His arm draped around my waist, my hand resting dangerously close to his crotch. We were both fully clothed, in our pyjamas, and I know nothing happened. To be honest though, I was glad of the company.

I got a glass of apple juice the second time I woke – feeling outrageously thirsty. At that point I had an unexpected encounter with Panda’s father in the kitchen. This was most unfortunate timing as I had ventured downstairs still in my nightwear; which consisted of a very short bed t-shirt.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Panda’s father asked. I shook my head and took a sip of the cool apple juice to slake my thirst. So far, I have given no physical description of anyone in my life. For myself, I will never tell you what I look like, because that would spoil the fun. Chances are, in your head I am far prettier than the reality of the situation. So continue flattering me.

However Panda and his father, them I will tell you about. Panda has the kind of eyes that look into you. Not at you – into you. As if they know something you don’t. I swear they are almost black, empty pools. An abyss. His skin is pale porcelain, smattered with freckles. Shaggy black hair hangs around an aquiline nose, broad mouth. Broad body actually. He looks like a rugby player (he doesn’t play rugby – he hates ALL sports). His strength and warmth are reassuring to you in bed it seem. I think he would be fantastic at sex. Sensually, Panda is pleasing. His tone is quiet, but pensive. Always. He continually smells of cigarette smoke amongst brief traces of deodorant and he moves with such gentle agility for someone of his size. The name? Apart from the obvious biological factors mentioned above; it’s between me and him, but use your imagination to make up something distasteful by all means.

Panda’s father... is Panda, but older. Faded hair, fading face. A tired, weary look around the eyes. When he looks at you, it seems to require effort.

“I’m so sorry to hear about things with your parents,” he had said this earlier. The repetition was presumably an attempt at making conversation.

“Don’t worry about it. I am not. They don’t want me there. It’s fine.” Another swig of apple juice.

“Well, you are welcome to stay with us for as long as is necessary.” His eyes were different now. They were looking at me, dowsed in concentration. Studying the hem of my t-shirt. I knew it.

“Thank you Mr Coon.” As I finished my drink, I made sure I raised my arms higher than necessary. It revealed the base of my hips, the top of my thighs. My black lacy underwear. Eyes don’t pop, but Panda’s father’s could have.

“I’m sure you will enjoy your stay, we will try to make it as pleasurable as possible for you,” he assured me.

“Thank you.” Placing the glass on the side, I took several steps towards him and hugged him. It was brief. “I am going back to bed now Mr Coon. Thank you again.”

Panda’s father smiled knowingly at me and I left him smiling. As I climbed the stairs purposefully slowly to see if he had followed me, my brain whirred into overdrive. A million questions I had the answers to precisely zero of. The main one: What was I doing? I didn’t know. I couldn’t know anything anymore. Incapable of thought because the opponents in my head were rendering my own voice of reason useless. There was no possible way I could make a decision in this condition.

Whatever remained of my right mind had gone, left.