CHAPTER 1
It was truly love at first sight. I didn't know her name. I hadn't heard her voice. I hadn't even seen her face.
But there walking into the supermarket was the arse of my dreams! No, better than my dreams. Just absolute feminine perfection in reality on an hourglass figure.
She was wearing a white knitted dress in a sort of lace effect, below knee length, with a small side slit. Very modest, really, but clinging close. As she walked her arse swayed from side to side, and I could see each cheek moving up and down in a heavenly dance.
I glanced down and was astonished. The reason women wear high heels is to make their bums move in a way men find enticing. This glorious creature was managing it with flat sandals!
Trying to appear casual, but not to lose a second of the show I followed her in. Not too close, keeping her whole body in my view, but as if I knew exactly where I was going, and it just happened to be the same way.
Disaster! It was into the women's clothes section, with nothing I could reasonably be looking for. I hesitated, and she went round an aisle into the lingerie, so I went back to get a trolley, and started slowly shopping, but keeping close to, and watching, the checkouts.
Too late, I spotted her by the customer service desk, where you can pay for single items. A moment later, she was out. All I knew about her was blonde wavy hair, an hourglass body and a heavenly arse.
I abandoned my trolley and went outside, but she was nowhere to be seen. It's a big car park. Perhaps her husband had been waiting while she went in, so they were away immediately.
It was months later at the supermarket. I'd got a trolley with a wobbly wheel, so took it back, and it was reluctant to release the pound coin. I'd just got a fresh one, when I saw her again. A different dress, some sort of print that didn't show her quite so well, but still the same beautiful backside. She was just picking up a hand basket by the door. I hurried after her, catching up by the fruit aisle.
I don't know how I had the courage. I had never done anything like this before. Just going up to a strange woman.
"Excuse me, you don't know me, but..."
She turned.
Her face wasn't symmetrical. One eye was lower than the other, and her mouth was over to one side. I tried not to show my surprise, but failed.
"My name's Troy," I continued, with what I hoped was a smile.
She laughed bitterly.
"That's funny, my name's Helen. The face that sunk a thousand ships. Ho ho ho."
"Who put you up to this?" she added sharply, with a scowl.
"Was it Dermot and Sammy? Or that bitch Fiona?"
I was surprised again.
"I don't know what you mean. My cousin Sammy's only seven. I don't know a Dermot, except for a teacher we had. And my mum's the only Fiona I know, and she's not a bitch."
"Sorry," she said, looking less angry.
"Was that Dermot the one with the silly ginger moustache?"
"Yes, and he used to stand with his hands behind him when he was telling you off."
She smiled, and her face looked a lot better.
"Yeah, that's him. Were we in class together?"
"I don't think so,"
I realised what I'd said as she scowled again.
"Yeah, you'd remember all right. Okay, what did you want?"
It took me a second to recall what I had rehearsed in my daydreams of seeing her again. I dropped it.
"I've seen you about, and just wondered if you'd like a coffee, sometime. That is, if...er..."
I smiled weakly. She frowned.
"If there's no-one else. Surprise, surprise! I haven't got a boyfriend."
"Coffee?" I said, plaintively.
She actually laughed. Just a tiny bit, but a laugh. She put a packet of apples back on the shelf.
"OK, let's go upstairs."
She turned towards the stairs, and deposited her basket by a till. I put my empty trolley to one side.
"Don't you want your pound back?" she asked.
I wasn't going to risk losing sight of her.
"No, some poor person can have it."
She shrugged, and started up the stairs to the café.
I followed, with an enormous effort of will not putting my hand on a tempting cheek.
"Get anything you want," I said, and she grunted "Moneybags" but just got a coffee.
As we sat down, I asked "What was that about sinking ships?"
"Helen of Troy," she added, seeing my puzzled expression. I still didn't understand.
"That's why I thought some joker thought it would be funny to get a man named Troy to ask me out."
"The Greek myth. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. A man named Paris took her away to the city of Troy, and the Greeks started a war to get her back. They had to sail there, so she was said to be the face that launched a thousand ships."
"Mine is the face that sank a thousand ships."
"Oh, I get it," I said, and immediately wished I hadn't, and wiped the grin from my face. She smiled a bit at my discomfort, then looked grim.
"An ugly face and a fat arse."
We looked at each other in silence.
"You've got a lovely bum," I said.
"Fuck off," she replied, but not loudly, and stood up, hesitated, and sat down again.
"Did you mean it? About my bum? I thought it was ugly as well," she whispered.
"It's too fat."
"You've got a beautiful bum," I whispered back.
"The best I've ever seen," I added.
She looked confused.
"And a sexy walk, and you look much better when you smile."
There was a momentary smile, then she scowled again.
"Do you do this often?" she said, accusingly.
"What?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Hit on unattractive girls so you'll get laid?"
"No, I've never done it before," as I said I realised the brick I dropped.
"I mean, I don't hit on girls..." I desperately protested, then gave up.
"I'm sorry. I actually thought you were very attractive, and wanted to get to know you. I still do. I thought a woman like you must have a husband or boyfriend, but it was worth a shot. I've screwed it up, so I won't bother you again."
I got up from the table.
"Hang on a tick," she said, putting her hand on mine.
"I think you should try a bit more. And if you really don't mind my huge wobbly arse, you can get me one of those cheesecakes I've been resisting since we got here."
"And something for yourself - since you're buying," she added as I went to the counter. I got a slice of apple pie and cream.
Then we talked. Having gone to the same school was a start, so we could laugh about the same teachers. She must have been a few years younger than me, though she didn't tell me her age.
I told her I was twenty-seven. I didn't tell her I had never got laid. I'd been shy at school, and afterwards had managed to get a couple of dates, but nothing more.
We told each other about our not very interesting jobs, and the fact that we were still living with our parents. It drifted off to TV programmes that one or both of us had seen. She laughed a few times, and it was a nice laugh. And she did look better when she was smiling.
And somehow she agreed to see me again. I gave her my phone number (home - I didn't have a mobile then) and said she might ring sometime.
CHAPTER 2
Three weeks went by. I couldn't phone her, and I didn't see her at the supermarket, though I dropped by quite often to get things for Mum, as it was on my way home from work. I guessed that was it.
Then one evening I heard the phone ring and Mum called up the stairs that it was Helen for me.
I nearly injured myself rushing down.
"Sorry it's been a while," she said.
"Would you like to take me to the pictures? It's a new film with Brad Pitt."
Of course, all the girls liked Brad Pitt.
"OK, what's it called?" I asked.
"Troy," she answered, and I could tell she was smiling.
We met at the cinema, which was packed, of course, and there was no chance of a back row snog and grope, but we held hands, and I kissed her on the cheek a couple of times.
We walked to a coffee bar, and talked about the film. She had obviously read up about the Trojan war and was most annoyed about the fact that they had saddles and stirrups on the horses like cowboys instead of just a blanket and girth. At least a thousand years wrong, apparently. She explained that in a myth Achilles was actually invulnerable because of being dipped in a magic river, except for his heel where his mother held him. This is why he was shot by an arrow in the heel. There was an expression Achilles heel, but I hadn't heard it.
I asked if she'd liked seeing Brad Pitt.
"As an actor, he's OK. For looks, I preferred Orlando Bloom."
"Which was he?" I asked.
"Paris, the man who caused all the trouble. He played Legolas in Lord of the Rings. You look a bit like him, actually."
"Well," I began, and caught myself with another foot heading to my mouth. I was going to say she reminded me of the actress playing Helen, which she did. In fact from the side she was fine - even good. It was just that two halves didn't match from the front.
Although I didn't say, my silence said something, so she continued.
"What did you think about the actress playing Helen? I don't know who she is, do you?"
"No, I don't know her. She's all right."