BigThick and Sally's Gnashers MP3 Read by Lois Tucker
The webcam rings. A customer’s waitin. Ah open ma top drawer, pullin oot a whip and nipple clamps. Here we go again. Ah make £2.50 a minute as an online dominatrix. Mair than ah ever made stackin shelves. Ah wis the first tae get the boot fae B&M when the lockdoon wis announced.
“Hey there,” ah say, twirlin ma hair fully-clothed.
BigThick8756 is typing.
“Do you like to bite?”
“Ah sure dae.”
“Can u show me your sharp teeth up close? xx”
Ya dancer. Ah love a weirdo. This is a walk in the park compared tae fillin oot shitey online surveys fur a bit o extra cash, or askin folk tae donate tae watch ma comedy shows. Ma ex Bennie always said ah wisnae as funny as ah thocht ah wis.
Ah show aff ma gnashers tae the webcam. It’s a guid thing ah decided against braces.
“Love that xx”
Ah keep ma eye oan the clock.
“Which are the sharpest? xx”
Ah point tae ma incisors. They look like wee fangs. In life, ye never know whit’s aroond the corner, or rather who’s gonnae pop up next.
SaggyBalls89 is typing.
“Kinky priest here.”
Ah’m deid.
Bennie couldny afford this. Every penny wis a prisoner tae that bastart. He’ll be well and truly oot oan his arse noo the shops are shut. Well, inside oan his arse. Nawan’s gettin a choice aboot that thanks tae Big Boris.
Then there’s me, turnin the apocalypse intae the ultimate business opportunity. Ma Granda did say that it’s an ill wind that blows some guid.
The laptop’s ringin. ExProPornStar wants to private chat. Ex pornstar my arse, ah hink, before clickin ‘Yes’ and forcin a smile.
“Hullae there,” ah say.
“Hey babe,” he types.
Ah’m wearin ma Ann Summers pyjamas. Nine times oot o ten, the maist flesh these weirdos want tae see is ma feet, and it suits me doon tae the groond.
“Are ye single?” he asks.
“Single as a socially distanced Pringle.”
ExProPornStar has left the chat.
Talk aboot a sense o humour bypass.
The webcam rings again. It’s like Wankadilly Circus the nicht. Teacher1962 would like to enter private chat. Ah click ‘Yes’.
“I like to chat first,” he types.
Brilliant, ah hink, wan eye oan the timer.
“How are ye?” ah ask.
“I’m good,” he types. “My wife’s away for the weekend, so I came here for some company. Why are you doing this?”
Ah pause. Ah micht as well be honest.
“Ah need cold, hard cash tae pay ma rent, and if ah’m lucky, fur a wee bit o therapy an aw. God knows Bennie would huv ten kittens if he could see me daein summat like this.”
“Bennie?”
“Ma ex. Not a word o a lie, he wis a first class prick. He never raised a haun tae me, but five year wi him wis enough tae send me loopy.”
Ah stop talkin. Teacher1962 is the wan payin me tae listen tae his problems. No the other way aroond.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he types.
“So tell me aboot ye and yer Mrs. Whit brings ye here?”
“Strict religious family. We married really young, and I feel like I missed out.”
“Huv ye ever met a lassie fae the internet?”
“Never. It’s just for company when she’s away. But back to you, what did Bennie do to you?”
“He …” ah pause.
Ah’d nought tae lose. Teacher1962 wis just another faceless wanker. Ah wis just another lassie that would tell him tae bash his balls against a table if he wanted me tae.
“Bennie manipulated me. Gaslichtin’s whit the call it, richt? Deep doon, ah knew there wis sommat aff aboot him, then wan day, ah called the polis. It wis just a hunch. Ah asked if he’d a clean record. Ah’d found some stuff oan his computer that didny sit well wi me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Turns oot he’d been reported and charged wi bein a Peepin Tom while we wur together. The lassie wis ainlie 16! Ah’ve nae idea hoo he didny get time, but he’s got black mark against his name fur sure.”
“Did you leave him after that?”
“Totally ghosted the bastart. Five year doon the drain.”
“Good for you.”
“But the hing is, ah still keep an eye oan him. Ah know aw his usernames. Bastart husnae changed his passwords. He’s got some other lassie oan the go. Pretty sure he’s broke lockdoon tae see hur, and she’s got nae idea whit he’s like. He’s mouthin aff aboot hur oan his blog and everythin.”
“There’s a law that can help you,” Teacher1962 types.
“Whit dae ye mean? Would ah huv tae phone the polis?”
“Yes. They can contact that woman and disclose his record to her on your behalf. It can be anonymous.”
“Ah’m no sure,” ah say. “He’ll know it wis me.”
“It’s all anonymous.”
“Ah’ll hink aboot it.”
Ah catch a glimpse o the timer. Teacher1962 hus been oan for a guid ten minute noo, and ah’ve gien him nought but an earful o ma problems.
“Do ye huv a guid relationship wi yer wife between the sheets?”
“She won’t let me go down on her.”
“Oh no. Can ye no try couple’s counsellin or sommat?”
“I’ve tried talking to her … a lot. It’s just how she is.”
Ah’m here fur respectful fellas like this, ah hink.
“It was lovely talking,” he types.
“Aye, enjoy the rest o yer nicht,” ah say, wavin tae the camera.
“Put yourself in the shoes of the other woman,” he types. “Would you want to know?”
Teacher1962 has left the chat.
Ah log aff the webcam. Bennie scared me. He wance pushed me ower in front o oor friends ootside a bar. Ah fell and hit ma heid. He wis roarin wi laughter. The others didny find it funny.
*
Ah google the non-emergency polis number. Ma throat tichtens. Ah wonder if me callin will send him ower the edge. Ah dinnae want that oan ma conscience.
The new lassie could huv weans fur aw ah know. Ah’ve nae idea whit Bennie is capable o, and it’s always better tae air oan the side o caution.
Ah take a moment and log oantae Twitter. #BelieveHur is trendin. Then ah huv a swatch o Bennie’s blog. Hings huv gone tits up completely wi the new lassie noo. Well, they dae say there’s nae such hing as a coincidence.
Ah take a deep breath and press call. Ah’d gien more than enough thocht tae this. Lassies need tae stick together, and if the shoe wis oan the other foot, ah’d want tae know.
“Hello. You’re through to the police,” a wumman says. “How can I help you?”
“Hullae. Ah’d like tae, um, warn somewan. There’s this man, and he’s abusive. The poor lassie probably hus nae idea, but she deserves tae know the bugger’s oan a register.”
“What’s your name? It’s for our records. You can be totally anonymous.”
“Sally … Sally Green.”
“And what’s his name?”
“His name’s …” Ah pause. Ah couldny believe ah’d the balls tae dae this. Maybe it’s because its the end o the world. Nought makes ye reflect mair than months in total isolation wi bugger aw tae keep ye company apart fae yer stoned flatmate. “His name’s Bennie … Bernard McDonald.”
“And what’s her name?”
“Ruth .… but ah’ve nae gat a surname. She’s fae Pollock, ah hink.”
Ah pass oan as many details as ah can.
“We’ll do our best to find her,” the wumman says.
“And ah’ll be completely anonymous?”
“Completely.”
A wave o relief rushes ower me.
*
Ah’m shakin. There’s only wan hing fur it. Ah log back intae the webcam. Ah’d got the ainlie bastart ah knew who deserved a kick in the baws. Noo these buggers wur gonnae pay me fur the privilege o tellin them tae bash their nuggets. ThePig enters the chatroom.
“Hello pig,” ah say.
“Oink oink.”
“Good pig.”
ThePig is typing.
“I’m a loud squealer, and I need exposing.”
“Good pig. Ah’ll expose ye.”
“What should I wear? I have a pink tutu that my belly hangs over.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Ah imagine a middle-aged fella in his wife’s scants dancin roond their livin room while she’s asleep. There’s a never a dull moment in this joab. Honest tae God.
“Should I wear my pig nose and ears?” ThePig asks.
“Aye.”
“Red or pink lipstick?”
“Pink. Ah want ye tae match.”
Ah spank ma whip against ma haun wi a crack.
“Spank you very much! xxx”
ThePig has left the chat.
(c) Emma Grae, 2020
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