Regret-me-not
I've never really been a fanny-hound. I was too naive for quite a while through and beyond my adolescence which meant that there were several opportunities that I didn't even realise were there until it was too late. This one's slightly different.

Many years ago, when I was a mere stripling of 19 or so, I trained to be a croupier in a casino in Manchester, where I lived. It seemed (at first) a glam world that had more than its fair share of good-looking women - most of whom, at that time, seemed completely unattainable to a council-estate refugee such as myself.

A new girl started work one evening, let's for veracity's sake give her the initial S. Gorgeous. Blonde, legs up to her armpits, figure to die for and as if that wasn't enough, she had the hots for me. While technically I wasn't a virgin you really wouldn't have called me experienced in anything but imagination and the five-knuckle shuffle, so this was just like dying and waking up in heaven.

The only trouble was that, like me, she lived with her parents and couldn't afford to move out, even to share a place. So we hung out for a couple of weeks, fiddled and fumbled here and there without having anywhere to really get down to business, much to a collective chagrin (she was so up for it, it was untrue). It was really never going anywhere, as was driven home to me in devastating fashion one night when she went off with my immediate superior, a worldly, ex-army loudmouth dickhead who made no bones about where she'd be better off (she obviously agreed) and took her back to his place, leaving me shrunken and humiliated in a corner (really - I couldn't wank for weeks). She left work shortly afterwards and I never saw her again.

But I never forgot S and, although he never knew it, I especially never ever forgave him. And while I had no real grudge against her for what happened (she was a bit rude for her part in it but I had to admit that if I'd have been her, I'd have been off elsewhere fairly sharpish too), I nurtured a hatred for this man that smouldered and, in the way that ineffectual people think makes them powerful, swore by all the demons I could summon in my vivid imagination that one day I'd have my revenge. Not because he'd whisked this woman away from me, but because he'd done it by deliberately making me look like a cunt in a roomful of people whose sympathy only really made me feel worse. I'm not usually a vindictive person, but everyone has things they really can't forgive - this apparently was one of mine.

Fast forward five years or so. He and I have both gone our separate ways. S is always somewhere in the background - strangely so, since our paths have never crossed to this day - and still the failure to bed her haunts me. I've travelled, changed jobs several times and am back in Manchester for a while. Women are, by now, a regular-enough fixture in my life and in my bed for me to think that things are kind of how I'd like them to be and, without being smug, I was fairly content. But still S was, in my mind, the one that got away. And I still, even then, harboured a deathly grudge against this cockwipe cunt in a way that I've rarely ever done before or since. It really festered, to the point of being the kind of memory that really torments you when you're having a down moment. Occasionally his name would creep up in conversation and while I was fine on the surface I would go all weirdly psychopathic inside my head.

So imagine my dismay when one day he walks through the door of the place I'm working to be interviewed for a job. The second I see him the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, I'm grinding my teeth and I'm instantly transported back five years. In the meantime his career has in fact gone backwards and he's applying for a job that means I'll be his supervisor. It's the last thing I want but naturally he's hired and I have to deal with him on a daily basis.

Cue Mexican stand-off. I loathe him but I can't let him know why. We have to speak but I can't bear to be near the man. And then one day he says to me the very last thing I ever want to hear from his faeces-smeared lips. 'Hey, do you remember S?'

I freeze inside. I maintain a poker face and pause long enough for it to be a plausible period of consideration. 'S who?', I say - and then, before he can speak say 'Do you mean the blonde girl at the X club? What about her?'

There's a pause and then he says 'Did you ever shag her?'

Now this throws me slightly. He must know I didn't but this has now built up to such a pitch in my mind that it's all I can do to ungrit my teeth long enough to (hopefully nonchalently) say 'No, I never did. Why?'

'Just wondered', he says. Another pause. 'She gave me a dose, you know.'

It was a moment when for a split-second, I almost believed in God. My insides were turning cartwheels and I remember turning to face him and starting to laugh. 'Really?', I said. 'Lucky me...'

I've often wondered if it was his way of trying to apologise, although it still didn't stop him being a cunt. He left shortly afterwards and I've never seen or heard about him since. And nor have I obsessed about them since. I have peace, at last. Took a long fucking time, but it was worth it.

(Sorry it was a bit long. Think of it as closure.)
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Sun 11 Dec 2011, 2:17, 8 replies)

The universe works in mysterious ways.
There's a few guys I like to imagine that happening to.
(yourmumonastickwithmintsauce, Sun 11 Dec 2011, 2:27, closed)

I am glad to hear you dodged that bullet.

(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sun 11 Dec 2011, 6:01, closed)

I'll give you a click but if you pop over I'll give you a dose too.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sun 11 Dec 2011, 9:32, closed)

I smell roasted peas
So I'm glad you've really let it go.
( Ghoti Fingers, Sun 11 Dec 2011, 10:15, closed)

Phew!
Nice happy ending there.
(Victor Mildew going apeshit again, (aka, nightprowleroftheweb), Mon 12 Dec 2011, 3:53, closed)

Great story!
you have my click
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 9:39, closed)

Click
You captured that raw human emotion of revenge quite elegantly.
(justin(e), Wed 14 Dec 2011, 15:08, closed)

Thanks for the responses
It's good to share. (Unless you're S.)
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Thu 15 Dec 2011, 0:38, closed)