This was the day.
I'd been longing for this day for years.
The day I'd finally get some special loving from a special lady.
At least, that's what I'd expected.
The first part of the visit went well. Polly seemed positively ecstatic when she answered the door. She was all dolled up in that fancy dress of hers, looking a million dollars. It was difficult focusing on her face when she wore such a clingy dress. Every bit of her was outlined.
"Paul?"
I snapped out of my trance. "Uh, what?" I said stupidly.
"Did you hear what I said?" Polly asked.
"Uh... I think I - Well, I did - Um..." I stammered.
Polly giggled. "Never mind. Come with me."
"Where are we going?" I inquired as she led me down the hallway into a part of the flat I'd never seen before.
"Where do you think, silly? To my bedroom!"
My heart skipped a beat. Was Polly really suggesting that we go into her bedroom? The two of us? Alone? Together? In her bedroom? The very thought of what could happen in there dazzled me.
"Now, Polly," I said, trying to be gentlemanly, "are you sure you want to do this?"
"Of course!" Polly replied. She sounded so happy and confident.
"But we've only known each other a few weeks," I pointed out.
"Does that really matter? We have something really special, Paulie."
Polly whispered this last bit reverently, as if it was holy. My heart started to beat faster and faster, and my breathing accelerated. Could anyone hear my heart? It had to be loud enough. The whole town must have heard it. I couldn't believe this was really happening.
"Here we are," said Polly.
She had stopped outside of the last door at the end of the very long doorway. As I'd expected, her bedroom door was artistically decorated with brightly coloured flowers and whirly patterns, every line neat and completely perfect - a bit like Polly herself! We walked into the bedroom, my heart racing at a million miles an hour. Polly's room was fairly ordinary, apart from the artwork on the walls and unfinished projects lying on the floor in messy heaps.
"Sorry about the mess," Polly said apologetically.
"Oh, it's no problem at all," I replied, still spellbound.
Polly smiled. "Now, you get settled in and I'll go and slip into something more... comfortable."
"Settled in?" I said, a question in my voice.
"Yeah, just get into any position. On the bed, on the floor, wherever."
"On the floor?" I thought, then added aloud, "Sure thing! I'll let you get ready."
"Thanks," Polly said, still smiling sweetly. "This is going to be great fun."
I didn't say anything. I just gave her a thumbs up and let her go on her way. The minute she left the room I quickly drew the curtains, then went on to prepare for the afternoon I'd been waiting for. As I undressed I began to wonder about surprising Polly when she came back in. I'd noticed some scented candles sitting on her windowsill.
"They might help set the mood," I thought and delved into my pocket for a lighter.
Within two minutes, the room was dark, the heavenly scent of rose petals lingered in the air, and I was lying sprawled out on Polly's bed. My clothes lay discarded in a heap on the carpet. I'd left my tie on and hoped it made me look a little sexier and exciting, like I meant business.
"Paul?" Polly called from somewhere else in the flat. "Paul, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine!" I called back. "I'm just a bit lonely without you!"
Polly cracked up laughing and told me not to be such a goose. I smirked before lying back properly on the bed, waiting. I heard Polly's footsteps trotting along the floorboards; little clip-clops, meaning she was wearing her high heels.
"Doing it with heels on?" I thought. "That's different."
"I'm coming in now, Paulie," Polly said. "Are you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied. "Let's do this!"
Oh, God...
I can't believe how wrong I'd been.
Polly's face when she walked in...
Her eyes bulged in horror, and her mouth fell so far open that I wondered if it had hit the floor! It took me thirty seconds to figure out why she looked so surprised - then I realised. Polly had "slipped into something comfortable", all right. Her definition of "something comfortable" was a loose T-shirt and tattered jeans. She had her sketch pad tucked under one arm and a set of paints under the other.
She had wanted to finish painting my portrait!
And here I was, lying completely naked on her bed.
There was a terrible silence that seemed to last an eternity. Eventually, Polly's shocked expression melted away and morphed into a shy smile. She then began to set up her painting gear: easel, paints and brushes. I watched her, scarlet in the face, feeling a total fool. I didn't dare pull the duvet over myself in case she got angry at me for getting it filthy. Polly glanced up at me.
"Paul?"
"Uh oh," I thought. "Here it comes."
"You never said you wanted to do a nude portrait!"
I blinked. "Wh - What?"
"You didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd want to pose naked for a portrait," Polly gushed, getting unusually enthusiastic. "Still, it's good to know that you're a brave person and not afraid to show off your natural, masculine physique!"
I didn't have the slightest clue what she was talking about; I was too embarrassed to pay attention anyway. All that was left to do was stay completely still, frozen with fear, and let Polly paint me. She did a wonderful job, of course. It was long, painful session.
"What do you think?" Polly asked, showing me the painting.
"I, uh..." I paused, unable to put my feelings into words. It was almost terrifying to see my own naked body painted so carefully onto a canvas. What was also terrifying was the fact of how honest Polly was with her artwork; she'd included my embarrassed, scarlet complexion and my excruciatingly broad hips and shoulders. I went red again just looking at it.
"You were a wonderful model," Polly murmured, gazing at the painting. "A very wonderful model indeed... but why did you want to pose naked?"
Oh, God. This was going to be an awkward conversation.
I explained very reluctantly everything that had happened; how my nude portrait was simply a result of misunderstood dialogue. Polly was polite enough not to make a fuss, but she looked a little sad when I finished my story. No, not sad. Disappointed.
"Why did you think we were going to sleep together?" she asked.
"Well..." I hesitated. Why had I thought that? I myself had found the idea a bit strange.
"I don't rightly know," I admitted.
"I'm glad you didn't try and force me or anything," Polly said, laughing shakily. "Max wouldn't have been too thrilled about it."
"Max?" I repeated. "Who's Max?"
"My boyfriend."
Hearing those two words was like receiving a punch to the stomach.
"Your boyfriend?"
Polly nodded. "We've been together for over two years."
Boyfriend. Punch! Together for two years. Punch! Punch!
"Oh, God," I moaned, burying my face in my hands.
Polly patted my bare shoulder sympathetically. "It's okay. It was just a silly little misunderstanding."
"Why did you agree to date me if you already have a boyfriend?" I said, practically in tears.
Polly shrugged. "I needed a male model, and my Max wouldn't do it."
"So you used me?"
Polly hesitated. "I suppose so."
That was all I needed to hear. I quickly pulled on my clothes, tugging violently at my sleeves and pant-legs. Polly looked on helplessly. I could tell she felt as awful as I did, but for once I couldn't be bothered with her. We were both at fault; we had both done unforgivable deeds.
"Goodbye, Polly," I said as I marched out of the door, half in and half out of my clothes.
"Goodbye, Paul," Polly whispered, standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself.
"Oh, by the way!" I called over my shoulder.
"What?"
"My member isn't that small!"
I sniffed primly, slammed the door behind me and ran along the balcony.
I needed to get home.
I needed to tell the other lads my situation.
I needed a rest.
I needed to have a good cry.