British English.
Category police:- there are a few categories this could have gone into, so go and have a lie down in a dark room. Nobody likes you anyway.
Circling the drain
Sunday
Ron and Lucy were making love, as they usually did on Sunday mornings. Neither of them cared for routine for its own sake, but this suited the rhythms of their week. They made love at other times of course, but for some reason Ron Coleman always woke with woody on Sunday morning. It was a fairly lazy day which made it convenient for a long session. Lucy enjoyed it too, and knew that sex always perked him up. So while she was luxuriating in a warm shower afterwards, he would be in the kitchen making coffee and a big breakfast, bless him.
He was approaching his climax now. His mates at work called it the vinegar stroke; something to do with the expression on a man's face apparently. Lucy came at the same time and they snuggled for a while before he climbed out of bed. He pulled on a pair of old joggers and a sweater and went downstairs; no need to shower, he had to mow the back lawn -- he could get clean later.
Everything except the eggs was ready; they took no time at all. When Lucy came down he asked her how many she wanted. As he watched two each in the frying pan, his mind wandered. Heat; things coming to completion. Did she fake her orgasm this morning? Something didn't feel right and Lucy seemed different somehow. He shrugged and slid the eggs onto two plates and they had breakfast.
Lucy gathered up their undies from the bedroom and put them in the washing machine. There were already several items in there. She had never seen the point of laundry hampers. Things got dropped behind them and forgotten. So they both shoved all their dirty clothes straight into the machine. It was just as easy to sort them from there. Ron knew the rules; if it wasn't in there, it didn't get washed; Sunday morning was the only exception. Satisfied that nothing was missing, she put their underwear in and set the machine for a gentle wash to start with. It didn't take long and when it was done she put the heavy items in and turned it on again. But she left the damp undies in the clothes basket; Ron was still mowing the lawn and those grass cuttings blew everywhere.
After lunch, Ron was out of the shower and drying himself. As he finished towelling his hair, he heard a noise. It was water still circling the drain in the corner of the stall. It was taking far too long to wash away and he'd been aware for a while now that it wasn't very efficient. But it was one of those things he only thought about when he was in the actual bathroom. He promised himself that he would remember to get some drain cleaner on Monday.
That night they were lying in bed spooning. Suddenly there was the sound of rain rattling against the window.
"Oh shit!" said Lucy.
"What's up?"
"I left the washing out -- both loads."
"Well I'm not going to fetch it in."
"Just as well I didn't ask you to." She sounded sarcastic.
"I had a mate who went to live in Australia. He said that when rain is forecast, they put their washing out. They reckon it gives everything an extra good rinse."
"Do they really? Good for them."
Monday
"Ooh, you're looking very trendy today boss. I've never seen you in red socks before!"
"I was hoping no-one would notice Jen." Ron told his secretary. "All my usual black ones are still wet on the washing line; I'd better buy some more. These are my old football socks."
(And they're getting worn two days in a row, but I'm not telling you that)
"Why, Mr Coleman. I do believe you're embarrassed!"
"It's simply that I've always believed businessmen should wear black socks. I think there's a law about it."
"Well if you're never going to wear red ones again, I'll have to tell the girls in the office. They'll all want to see."
"Don't you dare; I'll send you out to buy me some black socks if you do!"
"You can try, but I'll mishear. I'll probably come with bright yellow ones!"
Sure enough, Ron had to endure a morning of giggling girls peeking round his office door. He didn't approve of red socks in the office, but could not see what was so funny about them. So at lunch time, he bought two more black pairs. But when he stopped to consider it, he decided not to put them on after all. The excitement would be over this afternoon. But if Jan saw he'd actually gone to the trouble of changing them, and she would, the gigglng would start all over again. He looked at his purchase. Buying things -- he remembered! He set off in search of something to clear his shower blockage.
"What have you got there?" asked Lucy.
"It's an economy size drain cleaner; it's supposed to smell like pine. Our shower isn't draining away properly."
"I can't say I'd noticed."
"Well it's irritating me so I thought I'd sort it out. While I'm about it, I'll do all the toilets and sinks."
"OK."
. Ron stood in the shower glaring down at the cicular metal cover in the corner. And he just knew that it would have moved slightly since the last time he was down there. So it wasn't going to lift out until it was lined up exactly. He'd have to go and find a pair of tweezers. He hated this job, so better get it done now before he tackled the rest of the house.
After much cursing and jiggling about with the tweezers, he lined up the top disc and levered it free. Laying it to one side, he used them again and gently lifted out the plastic mesh trap. What was stuck in it was disgusting as always. He took both parts stooped over the toilet, and began picking off the crap.
"I don't get it." he muttered. "It should only be hair that gets trapped in here, why does it always look like shit?"
In future he promised himself he would comb through his hair when rinsing, and pull the loose ones off the comb. Then he could throw them straight into the lavatory -- less clogging for the drain to cope with. Lucy wouldn't bother to do that but the fewer times he had to do this chore, the better.
Ron picked the brown clumps off the underside of the top cover and flicked them into the pan. When it was more or less hair free, he threw it into the sink - he would polish both culprits off with the nail brush. He was peeling off the clinging brown mess from the plastic trap when he suddenly stopped. He was holding a clump which contained black hairs. His was brown, and Lucy's was blonde and long. Had someone else been using this shower? As he stared at it, he registered they were short and curly.
"Jesus!" he said out loud. "What if they're pubes?"
He shook his wrist violently and flicked the mess into the toilet pan and flushed. Once he'd cleaned both discs and replaced them in the shower floor, he scrubbed his hands.
He thought about asking Lucy about it. Obviously he was suspicious this might be evidence of an affair, so he would have to keep the conversation light hearted. But how could he phrase the question without tipping his hand? No, he didn't want her to know what he'd found yet; it could be some woman's hair of course. He ran through a mental list of their friends -- male and female. There were some who had black hair and one or two were quite curly. But he couldn't imagine why on earth any of them would have occasion to use this shower. He sloshed some of the cleaner into the sink and toilet.
