The Anniversary

It is our anniversary — not a wedding anniversary, people like me don’t marry. Today is the anniversary of the first day two lives began to be lived as one. 

We met in a pub named The Fox and Hounds. It’s not the idyllic country pub people imagine with a name like that when we tell them. It is a scruffy run down pub in the middle of an industrial estate. Each year when we go back to celebrate our anniversary it is as if time has stood still, the pub always looks exactly the same as the day we first met. Both in our hearts and in our heads, and just like The Fox and Hounds, we are still the same as the day we first met there.

The Fox and Hounds had already adapted to the needs of its customers before my first visit there. Substantial, cheap and basic food was served twenty-four hours a day to shift workers and lorry drivers delivering to one of the many nearby factories. Above the bar were rooms each with a bed and shower that could be hired by the hour. Long distance lorry drivers missing the comforts of home took the chance to shower, sleep in a real bed for a few hours or perhaps enjoy other home comforts.

I push open the door and it smells the same as the day I first met Tom. As usual I am the last to arrive and discreetly scope the bar, a blast of icy cold air follows me in as the door swings closed behind me. Faces are turned to inspect the newcomer, at the far end of the bar two working girls sit on barstools waiting and watching for their next customer, Tom is waiting and watching for me from his seat at what has always been our table.

The pub is busier than last year, our anniversary has fallen on a Friday this year, eyes remain on me, silence sweeps through the bar like the blast of cold air from the closing door did. I pride myself on being able to wear the same clothes that I wore on our first night. Although still immaculate my working clothes are old and unfashionable but Tom still prefers the slutty look that men once liked in their prostitutes. My skirt is shorter than modern working girls wear, my semi-transparent blouse more revealing, my lacy bra designed with seduction in mind, my stockings seamed, my heels a little higher. There can be no possible confusion — I am here for sex.

The icy stares, sniggers and giggles at my appearance hurt but I hold my head high. I am not here for them I am here for Tom.

Excitement builds within me at the sound of my heels on the bare floorboards as I walk to the bar and, ignoring stares from other customers, I order “a large gin and orange, fuck the ice” I say quietly. The greying barman smiles at the joke he’s heard so many times before as he puts my drink down on the bar. Standing at the bar I take my time over my drink, I glance across the bar and smile, Tom smiles back. I raise my glass slightly towards him as I take a sip from my drink then turn away.

I have not seen the two working girls at the far end of the bar before, they are young and new but they are good, they have noticed Tom’s smile, noticed my return smile, know I’m seeking business, suspect there is an unspoken contract beginning to form between Tom and I. Feigning loss of interest they are now deep in conversation. Next to me a man sits watching in the mirror behind the bar as if he were watching the stage in a small theatre and me a dame in some tragic pantomime. A lorry driver I guess from his clothes and the Mann key on his keyring laying on the bar. 

Lorry driver man is now watching the reflection of my every move. I am a generation older, probably more, but some men like that. The working girls have noticed his interest, this is their turf, lorry driver man probably one of their customers, their conversation pauses as they also begin watching my every move. 

This could become very awkward very quickly I’m thinking as I search for the pack of smokes in my purse. I find the dog eared pack — a memento from when I was a smoker — take one out then replace the pack in my purse and take one last sip of my drink. 

Lorry driver man’s hand is reaching for his lighter on the bar next to his keys. He is plucking up courage, one of the working girls has slipped down from her stool. Ready. It will not be the first time something like this has happened. 

Tom is smiling, he has one thing on his mind and has not noticed what is happening but thankfully the barman has and I notice him speaking to the working girls from the corner of my eye. The three of them are trying to hide smiles now. The girls giggle as they check out Tom, me, then Tom, then me, and so on.

Smiling back at Tom I ignore lorry driver man as he, still unsure of himself, holds his cigarette lighter sort of towards me. Pretending not to have noticed I walk over to Tom and ask for a light for my cigarette.

Tom hands me a worn box of matches from his pocket and I say “I’ll smoke this outside…why don’t you join me?”

Walking towards the door I smile over at the barman who is now in conversation lorry driver man and mouth a silent ‘thanks’

My thin blouse and bra do little to protect me from the cold wintery blast that hits me as I step out of the door, I feel my nipples instantly harden and begin to ache in protest at both the cold and absence of warm clothes. With just moonlight to illuminate the narrow alley beside the pub I walk with care around the back among the dumpster and crates of empty bottles which is where it always happens.

Leaning back against the back wall of the pub to steady myself I step out of my knickers, fold them carefully and tuck them in my purse that is over my shoulder. I can hear Tom’s slow footsteps coming, it’s time to get myself ready for him. Time slips away as both inside my head and inside the darkness I feel like I am twenty something once again. 

My back is against the wall, Tom is standing in front of me. Anniversary night is always the same. 

I say the only words I ever have at the back of the pub “money first love” and Tom puts the two one pound notes in my hand. Long since replaced by coins these crumpled and worn pound notes are the self same ones that he gave me exactly forty-seven years ago. Tom grips my arm with one hand and his walking cane with the other to steady himself then lets out a little groan as he lowers himself to his knees then takes my cock in his mouth.