Encounter with Alex

On TV the TV presenter giving good lines ad libs and syllabic puns.

In a close room after the ad break my second floor bedsit room, the paint peeling off the windowsill and patchy plaster walls.

Her name is Alex, dark hair rather bland or pretty looks, standard Midwestern accent inflected with a bit of Glaswegian. Shortish hair, skinny t-shirt, a certain voluptuous inflection of words in mouth.

Static interrupting on the screen every now n then. D'you know when the TV screen seems to disgorge or vomit itself into reality and its static and ozone becomes evaporated into the air and seems to blister further the paintwork round the doorframe where outside it's four o'clock. The door ajar...

All signalling that the TV show has come to an end. Quick titles scroll upwards and a 30 second themetune leading to a quick-sliding ad break.

We have in our bedsit patchy shadows and a fishbowl green. Twin beds too, her's over on the left, the smooth cream duvet. Stormclouds go over, shadows descend. The TV screen has disgorged its contents all over the room as if its flesh were suddenly real and not mere static and buzzes of light.

Alex, I love to watch her reading her emails say for fifteen minutes.

Like the peephole bars where you watch the coy girls or secretaries at computer terminals. Weird bars in Tokyo wit mirrored floors.

For fifteen minutes I watch her unobserved slumped on my single bed the ruffled counterpane, skinny-armed and gleeful. What have the myriad stoners and deadbeats to do all day but dream dreams like these.

In a large oblong gap between the last frame of the teen TV show and the delayed commercial break. I watch soporifically thru a plastic screen thinkin I had once a comicbook promised me the revolution would be televised... gettin harder to distinguish between fiction and reality...

Old pervert that I am, as if I was a veritable tramp I get up off the bed no concealment thump-fisted beatin off in the duvet. The cock stalk-like outthrust n the prepuce semi- or fully retracted showing the shiny bulbous head. And all for the pretty cherubic smile of the girl, coyly down-smiling at the computer monitor.

... Vapid white-skied afternoon outside the paint-peeling windowsills and the blocks a council flats.