He’d glanced over at her, and her eyes behind her thick glasses had been feverish with desire. Darryl had smiled awkwardly and then looked away, catching two of the younger more popular lads across the desk smirking. When they finished work, he expected Bryony to ask him if he’d like to have something to eat, but much to his relief she didn’t, saying that they should meet at the IMAX just before seven thirty.
He went for a walk along the South Bank next to the river, and then for a bite to eat in a modern Thai restaurant close to the Royal Festival Hall. It was half empty and he requested a seat at the end of one of the long benches looking out over the river. A slim dark-haired girl called ‘Kayla’ was his waitress, and when she seated him and took his order, she’d offered up a broad smile. When she brought his steaming bowl of Ramen noodles, she’d leaned across him and her tight T-shirt had ridden up to show a washboard stomach tattooed with a swirling mass, and two dragons engaged in combat. Darryl had felt his penis grow hard, and had inhaled her scent. She wore a heavy musky perfume. Slutty. It thrilled him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he ate, watching as she moved through the tables, seating customers and bringing out plates of steaming food. A few times she must have felt his gaze and she turned, but she didn’t return his smile. When Darryl finished, it was a tall skinny waiter who came and took his plate.
‘Any dessert?’ he said coldly.
‘No, just the bill…’
Kayla emerged from the kitchen at the other end of the restaurant and shot him a wary look. Then the waiter returned with the card payment terminal.
‘I thought you all had your sections in the restaurant?’ asked Darryl, handing over his credit card.
‘We do,’ said the waiter, slipping the card into the machine and keying in the details. He thrust it back at Darryl. ‘Pin please.’
‘So why didn’t Kayla finish with me? I wanted to give her a tip.’
‘You made her feel uncomfortable, sir. Here’s your card,’ he said chucking it on the counter with the receipt and stalking off.
‘Cunt,’ Darryl muttered, picking it up.
‘What did you just call me?’ said the waiter, doubling back and standing over him.
‘I CALLED YOU A CUNT!’ shouted Darryl, rising to his feet. ‘I’M THE CUSTOMER. I’M ALWAYS RIGHT!’
The restaurant fell silent. There was just a clatter of a fork in the kitchen.
‘You need to go, before I call the police,’ said the waiter, taking a step back. He was much taller than Darryl, but now looked afraid.
‘I’m going. It was a shitty meal anyway,’ he said, walking out.
He was furious as he walked back along the river, but the cold air soon began to calm his nerves. He wouldn’t let a lowly waiter spoil his evening.
* * *
Darryl left the embankment near Waterloo station, and passed through the dank underpass. Sadly, it was empty of homeless people, and he emerged at the base of the huge circular IMAX cinema. He could see through the glass that it was crowded inside, and more people were pouring out of the other three underpasses.
He found Bryony waiting just inside the main entrance, by a small table where leaflets were laid out. He still wore his work clothes, and for a brief moment wondered if she had expected him to get changed. She wore a purple diaphanous dress which came down almost to the ground. The tips of a pair of silver shoes peeped out from under the layers of fabric. Wrapped around her doughy shoulders was a black pashmina. She’d also done something odd to her hair. It was still pulled back into a ponytail, but she’d added a sort of small beehive at the front, which, with her prominent nose, made him think of the alien from the Sigourney Weaver films.
‘Hi, Darryl,’ she said, her face lighting up.
She held a small silver bag on a chain in her right hand, and she hooked it up over the crook of her arm nervously. It felt quaint, this meeting, and he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. He could smell alcohol on her breath, whisky or brandy. Had she taken a nip for Dutch courage? Yes, more than a nip. She swayed a little and put her arms around him. Over her shoulder he saw a group of teenagers waiting in the ticket line. One of the girls took a sly photo of their awkward embrace and they all laughed. He pulled away from her and smiled.
‘Do I look alright?’ she said, touching a hand to her hair.
‘Yeah. Great.’
She beamed again, displaying an inch of gums above her teeth. ‘I’ve got the tickets already. Would you like anything to eat, any snacks?’
‘Popcorn?’
She nodded, smiling again.
It was a smile of complete… complete what? Adoration? Awe? Drunkenness? Or could she see into him; could she see the real person inhabiting this unremarkable shell? He suddenly felt strength from being with her. It was as if he cast a light and she was basking in it. For a brief moment he thought he might be able to tell her the things he couldn’t tell anyone else, and that on hearing them, she wouldn’t run.
When they’d bought popcorn, Bryony guided him to one of the lifts.
‘We’ve got seats right at the top,’ she said excitedly.
They came out of the lift and went into the auditorium. Darryl had never been to an IMAX cinema before; he’d only been to the cinema once, when he was nine, with his mother and Joe, but Joe had stuffed his face with popcorn and thrown up all over the place before the trailers had finished, and they’d had to leave.
The size of the screen and auditorium shocked him.
‘It’s as tall as five double-decker buses,’ said Bryony, enjoying his awestruck face and leading him up to the back row, which was empty. They sat down, and he peered forward at the crowds of people stretching away below them. The lights dimmed and then the trailers started. They ate their popcorn for the first few minutes of the film, a box each on their laps, and they had the back row to themselves, save for a young boy at the far end.
Bryony placed her popcorn on the floor, and took his from his hands.
‘What are you doing?’ he whispered.
She leaned into his face, and he got another whiff of the booze on her breath.
‘Just sit back and relax,’ she said. She looked around, then put her hand down into his lap and started to rub his crotch.
‘Bryony… What are you doing?’ He flinched.
‘Shush, you don’t need to say anything,’ she whispered. She started to rub harder, and he shifted in his seat awkwardly.
‘You don’t have to…’ he started.
‘Oh, I want to,’ she crooned in a soft voice. ‘Is this okay? Am I doing it right?’
She started to work at the outline of his penis with her fingers, then squeezing and cupping his balls. He looked around at the auditorium, at the backs of people’s heads watching the huge screen. Kayla, the girl with the tattoo, swam into his thoughts, and he gave in and put his head back.
‘Oh, I can feel it, you’re getting hard,’ whispered Bryony, then hiccupped. Darryl opened one eye. ‘Sorry, I had a little drinky-poo before I met you,’ she said, pulling her hand back.