Story for performance #415
webcast from London at 08:35PM, 09 Aug 06

It became apparent, that he wanted to fuck. Well, what else could it be? They had only met the once. This was what she always complained about. Not getting a fuck. He was the married one. That was his problem. She had needs. He was offering. He was keen. He had sculpted her mother’s headstone. He called her babe. Later he started calling her bitch, which was even better. Like, ‘I am going 2 fuck u so hard, u won’t be able 2 walk, bitch.’ She liked his texts. They were funny. Pithy and witty.

‘Snowed 12 inches here. You’ll get 8.’

He lived across the sea. He threatened to come over. It turned out he was afraid of flying.

She could have done nothing about it. ‘Okay, why don’t we meet in W for long weekend’, she texted.

She could have said nothing about it. She told all her friends.

What she packed:
2 packets of muesli
48 condoms
diaphragm
morning after pill
The Pictorial Guide to Sexual Intercourse
Safer Sex: The Guide for Women Today
Jo-Anne Baker’s Self-sexual Healing: finding pleasure within for the section on Erotic Genital Massage exercises 5.9 and 5.10
7 pairs of shoes
riding crop bought at saddlery shop ($15.95)
red baby doll outfit with g-string ($39.95)
3 bromides

She knew she was over-producing this. Forget six-point plans for peace. Too much blood had been spilled for compromise.

It was his suggestion, which she had rejected. Then she had her pudenda waxed, and liked it. It was surprising. But it was done a little too far in advance. The hair had started growing back. She decided to give it a shave the night before leaving. Which drew blood and left a bit of a rash.

At the Duty Free shop she bought two bottles of champagne and a bottle of Bundaberg Rum. He was bringing the coke and beer, and a packet of chips. There was a rugby test on in town that weekend, that’s why the hotel room was so expensive (and it was on the waterfront). They were going to watch it on TV. She wasn’t that interested in the game. They had discussed a compromise solution in a system of scoring which won her fucking credits: this for a try, that for a conversion. She was hoping for a high scoring game.

The weather was rough and her flight was delayed in landing. Once she arrived she set the mobile for global roaming. He was coming from another island, and she was to meet him at the ferry terminal at 4.45 p.m. It was now 3.00.

‘Touch down—r u coming across the cold rough sea?’

There was a back-log of messages from when the mobile was off during the flight that landed in the in-box.

‘Boat b delay don’t board till 3ish b late in W keep texting babe.’
and
‘Text me when u land boat delay still in P.’

She texted when she got to the hotel: ‘R U on water?’

‘No boat won’t b here till 6 sea rough text u when we get close 2 W could b about 9:30.’

6.00 p.m. passed.

‘Still no boat?’

‘Sailing about 8:15 take about 3 and a half hrs meet me text get close.’

8.00 p.m. passed.

‘Getting late—are they still planning to sail tonight?’

‘On boat now—should leave by 8:30 should arrive about 12:00, text when close.’

And then there was nothing.

At about 10.00 p.m. she texted, ‘R U coming?’

No answer.

She had had a bath, something to eat, unpacked all her stuff, worked out how everything in the room worked. Watched television.

Then it was 11.00 p.m.

She wanted an update.

She texted. She called. No reply.

Nothing.

12.00 a.m. came and went.

And then the phone rang…He had arrived. He was downstairs.

Adapted for performance by Barbara Campbell from a story by Maude Casey.