No Tidy Way To Eat A Cream Cake

Printer-friendly version
No Tidy Way To Eat A Cream Cake.
by Angharad

Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
cake460x276.jpg

image courtesy of The Guardian


It wasn’t my fault, the trains were running late for my connection. I’d struggled with my heavy case which despite the wheels on it, weighed a ton. The day was colder than it should have been, but then railway stations are cold places at the best of times.

He saw me struggling and helped me enter the snack-bar, holding the door as I hauled my case through after me. The place was heaving and there were only two seats left and that meant sharing a table.

“Cuppa?” he asked and I nodded. “I’ll get ’em, you grab those two seats.”

Why does this always happen to me? If I wanted company, the place would be deserted, because I wanted to be by myself, I got Jim’ll fixit buying me a cuppa. Mind you in a few months time, I might have been more interested in him than I am now–got a lot on mind at the minute.

“There you are, luv, he placed a cuppa and a cream cake in front of me.” I reached into my bag for my purse, but he shook his head. “Nah, that’s alright, luv–have this on me.”

I blushed and stammered a protest. “Don’t tell me you’re a student,” he said.

“How did you guess?” I asked then realised the ragged hemmed jeans, trainers and duffel coat might have given me away, not to mention the text book protruding from the top of my bag–my handbag that is.

He smiled a warm smile the white teeth regular and well cared for against the sun tan of his face. His dark eyes twinkled. “Particle Physics for Dummies?” he quipped looking at the book.

“Yeah, that’s me, a particle dummy.”

“Sure,” he said, meaning the opposite. “Are you one of his, you know the hippy guy who’s always on telly?”

“You mean Brian Cox?” I asked, although hippy wasn’t a word either he or I would understand. Brian Cox being the professor of Particle Physics at Manchester.

“That’s the guy.”

“Yeah, he’s my professor.”

“Is he a nice guy?”

“Yes, yes he is,” I’d met him about three times when he’d helped me with a personal matter, he’d been okay then or his secretary had, she did most of it.

“He seems like it on telly, ’cept he’s always knocking religion.”

“God doesn’t fit in his map of the universe,” I answered, Cox was outspoken about his views on fairytales as he deemed religion.

“What about yours–does he fit in yours?”

“Physics is my subject not religion, sorry, I don’t have an opinion.” I copped out, given my experience of life so far I tended to agree with my prof.

“Ah, a diplomat in scientist’s clothing,” there was that lovely smile again and my tummy was doing things it shouldn’t.

“So, you going home?” he asked.

“Yeah, got all my dirty laundry,” I tapped my case as I lied, I wasn’t going home but that was none of his business.

“I thought that was only boys?” he commented and I blushed.

“Maybe I’m a boy in disguise,” I said quietly and he roared with laughter.

“Bloody good disguise then.”

I sipped my tea, it wasn’t too good, but after university tea, I could drink almost any hot brown fluid into which a drop or two of milk had been added. Then I picked up the cake and bit on it. Cream ejected everywhere–up my nose, down my chin and onto the table.

If I hadn’t already been blushing, I’d certainly have now. Putting the cake down as he chuckled at my messy effort to eat it elegantly, I pulled a tissue out of my sleeve and began wiping my face.

Still laughing gently, he shook his head. “I bought that one deliberately because I knew it was booby trapped.”

I looked at him in horror, then realised he was joking. He’d scoffed his cake down in three or four bites, then he was bigger than I, with presumably a bigger gob, and he was a bloke. I’m not.

“Permit me,” he said picking up the paper serviette, he’d brought with the cakes, he wiped some cream which was still on my cheeks and nose, despite my own attempt to remove it. “There, that’s got it.”

I ate the rest of the cake with a degree of trepidation, but there were no further mass migrations of solid cow juice. I looked at my fellow diner again, he was about thirty and well tanned, dark hair sparkling dark eyes, broad shoulders and no sign of a beer belly. Too old for me, I’m twenty one, but might have been nice to know–I don’t have that many friends, even fewer since I went to uni, but that should change next year, I hope.

I finished my cake and tea just as they announced my train. “Thank you for my tea and cake, but that’s my train,” I said smiling.

“Let me get your case,” he offered and before I could refuse he was towing it out of the door and on to the platform.

The train arrived and people got off and I went to grab my case, “Let me,” he insisted and I stood back whereupon he lifted it onto the carriage as if it was half the weight I’d been struggling with.

“There, safely stowed.”

“Thank you,” I blushed and pecked him on the cheek.

“Anytime,” he replied and hopped off the train. He stood on the platform waving as we drew out and I blushed and waved back. I blushed even deeper when I sat and down and thought that was probably the first time he’s been kissed by a boy and enjoyed it. I leant back and checked my letter of admission. Yep, this time tomorrow, I should be sorting out the little anomaly which has been such a bane for the past twenty years. Yep, this time tomorrow I should be in surgery and I sighed with almost audible relief, “At last.”

up
197 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

Lovely. Ships Passing In The Night

joannebarbarella's picture

While most of us here would have guessed, the passing traveller did not and it's nice to know that our heroine passed and that she will never have to worry again.

Wish I could do lovely little vignettes like this,

Joanne

Yum

Squelch--lick--naughty but nice. I remember those adverts too...

Brilliant !

This was a simply magnificent shorty from s genius of an author ! Angharad, how you find the time and the inspiration to do all that you do just leaves me lost with wonder. Please accept a BIG thank you for everything. If any typod get past me, please pardon, hsve just acquired new compoter and key board is so diff I am ueberfordert
Briar

Briar

Flat out

Angharad,

I am flat out writing one story let alone little shorties, you are indeed a Superwoman!

Love and hugs Roo

ROO

Squidge, squidge

And the cake was probably yummy too.

Just the write length (pun intended), not a wasted word.

Amazing what keeps you awake at dead of knight (sorry, had to get that one off my chess).

Susie

Not sure if I agree...

...with the "Corny as hell" tag at the top of this story.

I had no hesitation in clicking the "Good story!" kudo button, and would have liked to click it several times.

Angharad, I really liked the way you wrote this story: it's not unnecessarily complicated, and it's easy to identify with the characters. All this in just over 1,000 words.

Particularly Succinct

That was a very sweet story,

That was a very sweet story, Ang. Thank you!

Kris

{I leave a trail of Kudos as I browse the site. Be careful where you step!}

Sweet and Gooey :-)

Angharad

A lovely little story.

Thanks for posting.

Cofleidiadau

Alys

Lovely Short

Dear Angharad,

This was a lovely cameo of a story.

As others have said the characters have come to life in so few words. A wonderful story.

Love to all

Anne G.

Nice...

I'm probably missing something obvious, but...

Seems to me that the protagonist could be either F2M or M2F in this... Or neither. The surgery could have absolutely nothing to do with Trans issues.

Thanks,
Anne

Lovely vignette!

I laughed aloud at this wonderful line:

“Maybe I’m a boy in disguise,” I said quietly and he roared with laughter.

A very pleasant "Feel Good" story...

Ole Ulfson's picture

Thanks! I needed that!

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!

D:

Extravagance's picture

You're not supposed to eat a cream cake TIDILY. You're supposed to make a terrible mess of your face and hands, so that your partner can lick the cream off of you. ^_^

Catfolk Pride.PNG