Cambridge (Fiction)


I join the queue for
The taxi rank
Charing Cross Station
On the clearest morning in

These mornings great poets write about:

Through foamy clouds
The sun breaks and beckons like
Waves welcoming
Surf to the sea.

I wear
Common Projects, leggings,
And an old battered Cambridge University sweater I found in a vintage shop

You glance over your shoulder once.
Then again.
Curiosity gets the better of you –

“Did… You, er… You went to Cambridge did you?”

You ask,
Like a charicature of a
Carefree man
Your shoulders slouching into a shrug
You hands
Deep in your
Trouser pockets

“No, I went to Kings.”

“Then why are you wearing a Cambridge University jumper?”

“So men like you will talk to me.”

I reply with an offhand defiance.


Your face reddens.
You can’t think of anything to say.
I watch your hands twisting
Awkwardly in your pockets
(you’re wearing those loose linen trousers that are
impossible to iron and really
ought to be worn in sunnier climes).

“Did you go?”
“Yes. I, a long time ago now.”
“What did you read?”
“Politics with economics”
“What a fun degree -“
I say without the faintest trace of sarcasm

“- too bad I didn’t get in!”

Your hands move around in your pockets as
If you’re searching for lost thoughts
At the bottom

“I think I probably like the women bold enough to pretend they’ve been there more than most of those actually in the place.”

You say in act of carefully considered
Flirtatious diplomacy.

(I grin.)
“What are you doing?”

“I popped out of the office to get some things from Boots but they won’t let me in because I forgot my mask so I’m going to my next meeting instead”

Thoughts collected,
The hands finally escape the pockets and I glance downwards

No ring
Apple watch
Big, broad, tanned hands like rusty spades.

“Well you can have one of mine I have plenty”

I reach into my well worn Bottega Venetta bag for a disposable mask
And a pen.
I scrawl my number on the mask and hand it to you

“Now I can’t wear it. Your number’s on it.”

“You can have another mask if you like.”

I produce another mask from my bag and hand it to you

“How many have of those things have you got?”

“200 or so. I bought them in bulk on Amazon.”
I say casually,

“Thats ridiculous.”

“Jeff Besoz would beg to differ, plus, I’m highly intelligent-
I went to Cambridge, remember?”

I’d love to grab your cock
But I settle for
Another playful grin as you
Briskly walk towards your taxi.