This is an extract from my first attempt at a romantic novel, its called Geoff and Lorraine and I hope that I can use my limited writing skills and sexual experience to truly convey the full explosive sexual chemistry between these two factory workers in Dudley.
Geoff was busy on the production line of “Sanjays Meat Packers”. It hadn’t been the same since the Pakistani’s took over, “Packer Stanis” Geoff thought, chuckling to himself in a way that would make you want to stick a screwdriver into his eye, the cunt.
Further down the line was Lorraine, her job was to control the machine which put cling film around the different meats. Lorraine had a woeful perm; she looked very much like Gene Wilder after a huge shock, such as a close bereavement. Despite the fact that she cut the same shocking figure as a poodle that had been extensively tested on by a cosmetics company Geoff had a thing for her. “Ha” he chuckled again, the thing was his penis. It spent much of the day curled up like a frightened king prawn in his Y fronts snuggled betwixt a rain cloud of unkempt greying pubes.
The casual observer, on seeing Geoff’s constant chuckles to himself, might have commented that they hoped that chuckling caused a terminal illness so bad it made Aids looks like sweat rash. Geoff had an annoying chuckle, similar in annoyance to the sound Kenny G would make through his sax if a pharaoh ant crawled into his anus and stung him rectally mid note.
There was something between them as they spent their day watching hunks of dead animal go past them on huge conveyor belts like a grizzly generation game. She found Geoff funny, his constant little quips and dull observations brought a smile to her wrinkly cigarette raped face. Nobody else found Geoff funny, not his parents; his nan even called him a cunt once. Geoff was happy when she died at the hands of incompetent non English speaking nurses in a care home having spent the two days previous marinating in her own widdle. Geoff chuckled thinking about it, what a tosser.
Geoff had been staring at Lorraine all day; the tension had been building like that of the Libyan who shoved the small shard of metal pipe into the captured Colonel Gaddafi’s anus. Geoff wanted a similar resolution with Lorraine, capturing her with his love, pulling out of her storm drain' and finally shoving his metal pole of justice into her. “Phwoar” he thought with the sexual imagination of a brain injured scaffolder.
Lorraine glanced at him trying to flick her hair, which was a tumbleweed of curls, as she went off for her third fag break of the day, it was only 11, barking out to Glynis to cover her section. Glynis was a pig faced squat little turdlette. Geoff had thought to himself that he would rather stick his penis into a George Foreman grill full of hot glass and used heroin needles than her probable murder scene of a fanny. He didn’t even like looking at her. She was very fat (and ginger) he expected her vagina to look like Mick Hucknells autopsy, he looked away shuddering like a parkinsons sufferer with a chill.
Nothing had ever happened with Geoff and Lorraine, they came close one year at the firms Christmas do when it wasn’t owned by the Pakistani’s. They had got a cab together and they were both more worse for wear than a skinny jean wearing Hoxton twat. Geoff had reached over that night and had tried to finger her, licking his finger first like he was about to turn the pages in a phone directory in some piss stinking public phone box. She was well up for it, the whole event was brought to dramatic close when the jagged finger nail on Geoff’s middle finger struck her labia causing her to yell in pain and turning her off like a vegetables life support.
Geoff shuddered when he recalled the memory.
Lorraine came back and passed Geoff. “Ya alright Geoff” She farted out in a lazy northern way, the syllables all coming out together like they were shy and doing some sort of strange lingual conga. Geoff replied “I’m half left” Lorraine chuckled like an ugly pot faced childless dowdy wreckage of a woman typically would. Geoff attempted to make conversation but Anuj the foreman came along tapping his watch. Geoff thought something unprintably racist and chuckled to himself yet again and Lorraine skulked off back to her section, already contemplating yet another cigarette.
Several cigarette breaks later, a dull sandwich based lunch break and countless cunty chuckles later and it was home time. Geoff, having filed his nails, decided to take the bull by the horns and finish business by asking Lorraine if she wanted a drink down the local. “Ear Lols, fancy a pint of mild” Geoff sprayed out, “Are you asking me out” Lorraine replied (while this exchange was happening a small fly decided to end its life by flying directly into a spiders web, which was better than witnessing this coming together of two of lives biggest wastes of oxygen). After more verbal exchanges the penny finally dropped and Lorraine had realised that Geoff was in fact asking her out.
They left Sanjays and made the short walk to the local pub, the Halfway Inn. Inside Geoff gave a cheery hello to the barman and owner George. George gave a token smile back but wheezed “wanker” under his breath. George had no particular beef with Geoff (Geoff would have found it funny if there was a beef, being that he worked in a meat packing factory and would have done one of his chuckles, which was in fact the reason why George thought he was a walloping cunt).
They sat in the corner of the pub, Lorraine was fiddling with beer mats and poofing her ridiculous candy floss hair up. Their conversation was stale, pointless and stuttering, but despite this, Lorraine felt a stirring in her “fanny”, a bit like attending to a large pan of stew and dumplings that had been left for ages. Several pints later, many bad jokes and a chorus of frankly repellent chuckling, Lorraine finally stepped up and put it to Geoff, “I want you inside meh” she stated, “down thur” she clarified pointing at her vagina. “Get your coat luv, you’ve pulled” Geoff said, in a way which would have arc welded most vaginas firmly shut.
They bundled out of the pub and started to make their way home, her shoes scraping along on every third step. They bundled back her tawdry one bedroom ex coal workers shit hole. Geoff had a sneaky grasp on his “package” to try and get the blood going to it and hope that it performed better than his last attempt at a sexual encounter in which his penis did a perfectly good impression of Stephen Hawking with a flat battery……
Part two to follow…..
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