‘I hit him with your dildo.’ I’m too wired to cringe, but for the record, this is a sentence I never want to hear again, let alone say. ‘I think I knocked him out.’
‘Ha! You said dildo. I knew I could get you to say it.’
‘I was in an Uber!’ I almost screech. ‘I wasn’t about to publicly discuss the gigantic phallus my best friend decided to send me. But this is neither the time nor the place to be discussing inappropriate gifts. Focus!’ I guess I also shouldn’t be still staring at it, though it’s hard not to. The veins are almost mesmerising.
‘Oh my God, you’re serious?’ she cries. ‘I thought you were joking. You need to call the police now! I’ll stay on the line.’
‘How can you stay on the line while I make another call?’
‘Make the call from your landline,’ she urges.
‘Who has a landline these days?’ I ask, looking around for someplace to set down the Pussy Pounder, eventually deciding on the console table where it stands like a pornographic game of ring toss.
‘You don’t have a landline? What about for power outages? Emergencies?’
‘I can’t afford emergencies. Besides, can you even be a millennial if you own a landline?’
‘Jesus, Rose. Quit arguing. There’s a homicidal maniac at your door!’
‘For the record, that is not reassuring.’
‘Can you use the conference call thing?’
I snort in response. Technology and I have never been a thing. We’re not even casual acquaintances.
‘Or just hang up, call them, then call me back so I know you’re okay!’
Hmm. I’m not sure about that.
Hello, I was grabbed by a stranger at my front door.
Ma’am, where is the attacker now?
On the ground. I knocked him out with a massive dildo.
I’m pretty sure that would not get a car dispatched.
‘Shush.’ I press my ear to the door. ‘I think I hear something.’
‘You think you hear something? Should I record those as your last words? Of course you hear something,’ she replies a little hysterically. ‘You hear the bad man. I swear to God, if I go into labour right now, I’m blaming you!’
‘Hush!’ I repeat as I bring my ear to the surface of the door. ‘He’s groaning.’ I realise my fear has reduced to a slight tremor in my hand, curiosity overtaking dread somehow.
‘It’s just a ploy,’ Amber warns.
‘He just whispered please. I’m almost sure of it.’
‘Yeah, please let me in so I can murder you. Or please come and hit me with your dildo some more. Either way, that is not good.’
‘He sounds like he’s in pain.’
‘That makes two of us!’ she almost screeches.
‘Cut it out.’ I pull the phone momentarily away from my ear. ‘I’m trying to listen. He’s groaning again.’
‘He might be a pervert.’ My gaze drops to my outfit, the sides of my coat no longer tied, and I consider she might be right. ‘He could be jacking off. It might be the old dude from the club.’
‘He was too tall to be the old dude. Besides, it’s too cold out for al fresco finger fumbling. Those groans do not sound like a fun masturbation session. I’m going to have a look.’
‘Are you insane?’
‘Just a quick peek,’ I say oh, so reasonably, certain he can’t have moved from the bottom of the stairs. Almost certain, in any case.
‘You are crazy! Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie? He could totally be pretending, waiting to lure you outside.’
‘Wait, I have pepper spray,’ I announce, dropping to the floor and slipping my hand into my purse to rummage around for the small can I always carry. It’s in here somewhere, I know it.
‘No, don’t do it! Don’t be the dumb as dog shit girl who always gets killed first,’ she wails.
I stand and scan the hallway for a weapon in lieu of the missing spray, my gaze falling to the monstrous dildo again.
I guess it worked the first time . . .
‘The noises are too far away to be happening right on the other side of the door. I’m just gonna crack it open a little.’
‘You know there’s no such thing as just a little dead, right?’
‘I promise I’ll be careful.’ As I say this, I’ve already tucked the dildo under my arm to gingerly slide back the bolt. My fingers are on the handle, just itching to turn it. ‘Just a peek. I promise.’
Ignoring her wailed noooo, I press my toes at the bottom of the door and crack it an inch. The bogeyman isn’t waiting on the other side, I’m pleased to report back to Amber, whose complaints are still audible as I open it another couple of inches.
There at the bottom of the stairs lies a crumpled heap I assume to be both male and human. He twists a little in his position, his arms suddenly thrown wide as though inviting a hug.