Sex and the Stranger

‘I'm just nervous.’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘I am! Look at this hand – it’s shaking.’

He waves his palm beneath my nose, demonstrating the fact.

‘Why are you nervous?’

‘Because I don’t know if I can make it out of this supermarket without ripping your clothes off and taking you on the fish counter.’

‘You’ll get arrested.’

‘I know. Hence the nerves.’ The trolley comes to a halt by the bacon. ‘I have to admit something too. But you’ll think I’m weird. I don’t think I can tell you.’

‘Oh, don’t tease. Confess all. I won’t judge, I promise.’

‘You will. You’ll judge me. OK then – but don’t laugh. I find supermarkets sexy.’

‘What?’

‘All the produce. All the ripeness and plenty, you know. Abundance and wealth. It’s kind of … arousing. I often think of doing it in a supermarket.’

‘That really is weird. Besides, you couldn’t do it in a supermarket. It’s just too busy.’

‘No it isn’t. Know how I know? Because I’ve done it.’

‘You haven’t!’

‘I used to work here, one hideous summer after A levels. I lost my virginity in here.’

‘Oh, you little liar!’

‘I’m not, I swear.’ He laughs. ‘In about ten minutes, they’ll change shifts. These guys will all go home and a new lot will come in. There’s a half-hour window after that before anyone takes a break … which means an empty staff room … which means …’

‘You aren’t serious? You’re serious!’

He snakes a hand beneath my skirt, hiding my legs behind his.

‘Deadly serious. I want to feed you these cherries. Come on.’

We abandon my trolley there amid the meat and Serge takes me in one hand and his basket in the other before heading purposefully towards the double doors at the back from which the trays of fresh produce emerge all day long.

‘We’ll be spotted,’ I moan.

‘No we won’t. I know this place like the back of my hand. Trust me.’ He grins down at me. ‘I’m a doctor.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’ll get struck off.’

‘Don’t be silly’ We are through the double doors and he swerves to the right, leading us through the middle of some shelving instead of into the centre of the room, where shelf-stackers are sorting goods and loading up pallets. At the end of the row, another door leads into a corridor. We flit past the door marked STAFF ROOM and head into the room at the end, which turns out to be staff toilets.

‘We’ll wait here,’ he murmurs, hustling me into a stall in the Ladies’. ‘Ten minutes. I promise.’

‘You haven’t actually asked me if I want to have sex with you in the BargainBuy staff room,’ I point out.