#which was when i realised my bank card had been stolen from my bag in the locker room

[mxddyhero]

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Interview With Mr Wayne

Masterlist

You visit Bruce after inning your court case to celebrate but Bruce hashad a bad day and decides tocheer imself up with a little roleplay~

Warnings: Adult Situations 18+,Smut ,Teasing ,Fingering, Sir Kink?, Panty Kink?, Desk sex, Swearing!, Overstimulating

A/N: This has been sitting on my tablet for about eight nine weeks maybe more? Finally finished it. Just been so side tracked with my other stories. But here is some Bruce Wayne smut..I hope you like it xx

Taglist: @125bluemachine125​ @iloveyouyen​ @thefangirlsblog​ @itismineru​ @tinabean37​

You quickly ran through the lobby of the tower barely remembring to swipe your card against the reader, a new addition that Bruce had installed since nearly getting caught with you in the public elevator now you had a private elevator that lead you to the left of his office in a small concealed hall next to the toilet just behind Mary's desk and it needed a card to access it wasnt much but it was something, its not like you were ever going to convince Bruce to not have sex at work...It was like asking the man to stop being a smug little shit or like asking Tim to cut out caffeine it just wasn't going to happen. You came to a stop trying to bite back a squeal, you was happy so happy, your old boss had decided to settle out of court once all the evidence was put out for her to see some of which was going to be on her record for a long time. Tom had quit once he heard about what had happened and she had gone bust and couldn't afford to go to court already processing for bankruptcy. Tom is trying to buy it from her and was going through getting a loan from the bank. Bruce had said if they didn't aprove he would give Tom the money outright just to 'piss off that bitch'. You on the other hand didn't care about that instead you was pleased with the fact that you hadn't hid behind Bruce,you had done it alone... You had won by yourself well with the help of two of Bruce's lawyers..He wanted you to use them all but eight seemed a bit over the top,  either way you kept Bruce out of it. You wanted to prove that you could stand on your own two feet in some respects. Your aim was to make an example of her, to show that you are a force to be reckoned with in your own right and that just because you have been quiet up until now does not mean you'll let everyone walk over you, not anymore. You smiled in the elevator mirror pulling at your blazer shimmying your bra as the bones dug in to your ribs making you wince you'd gone dressed in a two piece pinstripe suit, smart high waisted straight cut pants the blazer had two rows of buttons giving what you called the 'old mafia' vibe and a dark plum almost black shirt stolen from Bruce's closet for...Reasons.  Your high heels echoed on the marble floor as you exited the elevator rounding the corner seeing Mary sitting there balancing a pen below her nose on her lip you giggled.  "Working had or hardily working?" She jumped dropping the pen on the desk turning to look at you and wolf whistled. "Well if I didn't know for definite that you were bobbing my bosses knob I'd try to peel that suit of you and have a taste myself you look delicious!" You rolled your eyes used to the womans not so subtle flirting. "If I ever get curious I will give you a call" she giggled at your monotone reply licking her lips "Promises promise's~" you huffed at her shaking your head then nodded to the full board room Bruce sitting at the head of the table looking just about done with their shit. His shoulders were tense and squared as one little man raised his voice across at him. You licked your lips taking your bottom one into your mouth biting it as Bruce held his gaze steady and smiled making the other one sit his scrawny as back down.  Fuck yes, you loved boss Bruce, and Batman Bruce and Alpha Bruce fuck any Bruce...But Boss Bruce got you going like nothing else, you almost whined seeing him work, a stern gaze across the table daring them to challenge him further. Oh god you just wanted to walk in and fuck him there and then, let the others see him fuck the life out of you. You sucked on your bottom lip again trying to fight back a pitiful whine. So public sex may have become a kink since your little holiday...You'd both been caught fucking on the beach by one of the staff Bruce hired to take care of the house and when he hadn't stopped just kept rutting into you faster knowing they were stealing glances, the way his voice dropped teasing you about having an audience how he wanted you to give them a show. Ugh. It had made you cum so hard you passed out for a few seconds and when you woke he was still at it albeit slower and biting off chuckles away as you flushing so fast you became dizzy below him. "You need a drink your looking thirsty there" you snapped yourself out of your thoughts and glared playfully at the woman as she got up walking to the small corridor you'd came from, not only did it hide the new elevator and toilet but also a small kitchenette. You sighed following her taking one last glance as Bruce pointed sterny at a few of the men you could only imagine how deep his voice had gotten you shivered. "Come on before you leave a puddle! They have only just polished this shit...And I don't feel like trying to find a 'caution wet floor' sign" you groaned at her. She hopped up on to the counter waiting for the kettle to boil. You moved to lean against it placeing down Your bag and the folder holdjng your settlement details you'd brought with you to show Bruce. "Sooo where did you go off to back there? It looked...fun" you smiled at her blushing. "Just thinking of our holiday was all...We experimented, seeing him in there just reminded me" she moved adding sugar to two cups snorting at you before nudging you playfully. "Oo kinky tell me more~"  "I dont kiss and tell Im afraid...Not sober anyway" she snorted at that then waved a hand at you. "Kiss and tell? psh like all you did was kiss...So no details?, not one tiny little ounce of Juicey gossip? come ooonnn!" you shook your head at her with a grin and she pouted "Oh boo! your just like him no fun at all! , I tried getting details out of Bruce and he just went red and shy...SHY! I didn't know he could do shy... So what ever you did Mama me next? please and thank you" you flushed at her laughing her off as she handed you your tea wrigglingnher eyesbrows. You both sat in comfortable silence for a few moments sippingnyour drinks. "Soo? Did you top him?" You choked spitting your tea back into the cup coughing and then turned to her gaping like a fish. "Where did?-did he tell you?" Her face lit up and she giggled around a whispered 'HO-LY SHIT!' "Oh my fuck you did! Get it girl! You teach that big boss man! You make him eat the peach?" You blushed and stam,ered tryjng to find the words to get out of this one. "Oh fuck shit look seriously dont tell anyone he'd never forgive me if that got out!" "Oh honey no! I'd never!...But no he didn't tell me I guessed, you know he did go shy so...Must have been somthing new...But kudos to giving him a taste of girl power..Enjoy yourself atleast" "Oh...well yes I was surprised I managed to pull it off..I mean Bruce is big and strong and I wasn't exactly sure the cuffs would hold when he realised what I did he got smug teasing me...Then mad when he realized I wasnt fucking around-" she squealed and bounced on the spot "Shit!? You just sprung cuffs on him?! wow Mama you got a set of balls!...Bet you paid for it" you chuckled sipping your tea. "Well.. He got his pay back...The man has more stamina then I give him credit for..." she snorted nodding shaking her head dropping to conversation seeing you were uncomfortable. You shifted before speaking up again. "So how long has he been in there for?" She peered around the side into the hall that had a veiw of the clock. "Bout three hours...They are opening a new office in central city which Bruce is fine with, it will make a few things easier...But the board want to place one of their sons as the branch manager, Bruce said no. This kid has only been here for two years and hasn't got a single promotion or anything! He isn't really any good at his job ,he only got the job by pulling strings. Bruce wants to promote someone who deserves it not hand it over to some fucking daddies boy...But true to form this guy started going ahead anyway, telling the others that Bruce agreed apparently, daddy promised this little shit the job...This tit doesn't know it yet but Bruce is about to fire him his son and two other board members for this little drama." You frowned at her "He can do that? I thought only the share holders or some shit could sack someone that high up?" She gave you a look and blinked slowly. "Honey your man is the main shareholder...He owns like ninety percent of the company....Thats why his name is on the building...On that note lets head back I wanna see this...You probably will to just remember no puddles~" you moved to swipe at her playfully as she scampered away down the hall laughing you followed snatching up your folder holding the documents of your settlement in your hands.

You turned the corner you heard raised voices and saw Bruce sitting leaning back arms crossed his head was tilted and he looked pleased with himself as the three older men and one young sprog was stangding before him each in various emotional states.  The oldest one was shouting at Bruce with animated hand gestures towards himself and the young man; you assumed he was the father and son. The young man was more panicked then anything you could see from here he didnt want to be there, he wanted his father to shut up and to leave.  You turned your attention  to the other two middle aged men around Bruce's own age both had seemed to accept what ever had just happened. Bruce moved forward sitting staight then pointed to them saying something else making everyone in the room flinch then he leaned back holding his hands out at his sides then nodded to the door. You froze as Bruce saw you and smiled at you for a second, your view was interrupted as the now unemployed men tried storming past the desk. "Err excuse me gentlemen? I'm afraid you will need to hand in your company id's and passes..." the eldest swore and clambered over to the desk, you moved to the side with your tea and sipped it slowly. Letting the irate man pull his wallet from his pocket tearing the cards out and slammed them down then he turned to his son who handed in his id sheepishly then they both left quickly with one last snarl to Bruce through the glass. You released a breath when all four men were in the elevator and out of sight. "I always hated that man, rude and pig headed...He is elitist...Which is pretty ironic when you realise he was raised by working class parents." You snorted at her then turned to the board room as Bruce said something that looked like a threat well if the reactions were anything to go by. Then he dismissed the remaining men with a wave of his hand. Before any of them were out he had already signaled you to enter the room. You moved picking up your cup and folder then circled Mary's desk. "Ooo the board room today? I shall put the cleaners on sandby" You flipped her the bird as she laughed out loud "Fuck you Mary" you called over your shoulder walking towards the door. "If only you would my love~" you giggled  at her shaking your head. You bit your lip watching as the men leaving the room all but jumped out of your way, not wanting to risk any contact with you especially when Bruce was watching them like a hawk....And in what they precived as a bad mood. The last man held the door open for you as you entered you nodded to him. "Thank you" he stuttered flushing as you smiled  "Y-your welcome" he quickly left the room almost tripping over his feet as Bruce's gaze scalded his back.

You walked forward towards him as he spun his chair to face you a devious smirk on his face man spreading with his hands resting just above his crotch. "Well what do we have here?..Heels? Pantsuit? And no doubt that folder's holding the little ladies resumé..." you squinted at him playfully and recived a wink in return. So thats how he wants to play it today?. You smiled you'd play along. You moved standing taller. Prouder.  "Of course Mr Wayne...Would you like a peek?" Your words rolled off the tongue in a sultry voice full of promise. He moved holding out a hand for you to place the folder in it. "Only if your offering Mrs?" "Miss Cooke with an E and if I wasn't offering I wouldn't be here I assure you" he chuckled a deep smug sound that made your knees quiver slighltly as you played along with him. He hummed flicking open the folder scanning the documents. Your heart sped up as his smirk got wider and wider untill he was grinning like a cheshire cat. "Very impressive...Your Boyfriend must be proud of you  for such an acomplishment" you giggled taking a step closer to him. "I'd like to think so Mr Wayne" you grinned yourself as you saw him stiffen at you calling him his title. He quickly flipped the folder closed and let hit fall onto the huge table with a slap. "I would say most definetly...I wonder what he would think? you being here at my disposal?" you sucked through your teeth. "Well he is a man in uniform, bit of a brute at times but there are ways to placate him, I'm sure I can persuade him ~ if I think the reward is great enough" he chuckled shaking his head and gave a lopsided grin before speaking in a gravley tone low and tempting. "Oh I assures you miss Cooke it will be worth it~" you moved forward leaning on the table infront of him hands gripping the sides and leaned down bending at the waist holding his gaze before trailing down to his crotch then back up smirking. "Ha! come now Mr Wayne...There are certain things we both know money can't buy~" he moved forward to capture your lips but you dodged him swiftly. He growled and leaned back taking a quick glance to the door seeing Mary had gone...The elevator light red signaling noone was going to reach this floor until he reactivated it, a very good investment if he did say so himself!.  He turned to you smirking knowing just how this will play out. He moved a hand capruting your bottom lip with his thumb you licked at him making him humm, then you pulled it into your mouth watching him closely as you wrapped your tongue around him lapping and massaging it he smirked and pressed down lightly making you moan and suck harshly. "..So a sharp tongue...Not to sharp, you mouth will come in handy" you hummed a a small giggle around his digit and bit lightly running your teeth over him as he withdrew you winked at him playfully smaking your lips at him. He rolled his eye before snapping back into 'boss mode' crossing his arms over his chest leaning into the plush leather chair rolling it back a foot or so, taking his time to drink in the sight of you. Leaning back on the table he was about to make a mess of~ the pant suit definitely accentuated your curves the top button of the jacket fighting to contain your breasts he knew were being held high by a balcony bra just below...  He grunted raising in his seat trying to catch a peek of the deep cleavage the bra produced but nope...Nothing the shirt you wore was large and fit snugly but sadly there were none of the dreaded button gaps for him you use as his own private little peep show. "I can see you have the skills for the most part...However there are some...Personal aspects to the position I can't have just anybody as my assistant, they have to have a drive...A willingness  to do anything it takes to get the job done...Tell me Miss Cooke could you see yourself going the distance....The whole nine yards so to speak?" You snorted at him and tried swollowing a chuckle...You tired to hold it in but you couldn't. He smiled dropping his roleplay for a second shaking his head at you but quickly you found your composure and stood straight. "I think nine is pushing it~" he frowned at you playfully and crooked a finger with a sly look.  "Oh really what ever happened to 'oh Bruce its in my tummy~'" you gasped horrified as he tried mimicking a high moan...You have never said that!....Well you don't think you had to be honest when your fucking him you never really know what's coming out of your mouth... "YOU?! I have never said that....Have I?" He through his head back laughing loud echoing through the large empty space. "No but you've thought it~ I can tell...Either way my sweet little woman why don't we see if its possible~ see if you can back up those words" you shook your head blushing it was completely possible youd screamed that out at him. And the idea you could have shamed and aroused you. "...I'm sure I could handle anything your dishing out Mr Wayne." He groaned moving his hands away from his stomach reajusting himself tugging his belt. You flushed when his hand rose quickly pulling your shirt from your pants he chuckled seeing how far it fell... It was definitely one of his, that would be why there was no tugging on the buttons you smiled shyly. "Your Boyfriends?" And just like that the game was back on track. You moved twiddling the lower buttons of the shirt a little embarassed about stealing it this morning. "W-well Mr Wayne today was a big day...Its intimidating coming here, standing on my own two feet...His scent calms me down I feel safe" he smiled softly before slowly popping the buttons on the suit jacket  pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor behind you he burst out laughing as the sleeves of his shirt fell down a good few inches over your hands as the jacket wasnt holding them up and longer. "Hey! Don't laugh at me!" He moved forward kissing you softly. "Sorry sweets...You just look so cute!" You pouted as he ran his hands across you slowly pulling the shirt up snaking a hand the the side zipper of the trousers and with a quick flick of his wrist the heavy fabric fell to the floor with a soft thump.

He moved back taking a moment to admire you standing in just his shirt and underwear before him. It looked like a dress how you smoothly tucked it in, he didnt have a clue he groand and bit his lip then moved. He rolled the chair back towards you and pressed you to sit on the table. You half expected him to slip his hands under your ass and drag down your panties but he didn't. He pushed both feet to rest on the egde of the table forcing you to lean back and catch yourself on your hands. "Bruce?" His eyes flicked up to your uncertain gaze he just grinned wickedly and winked at you. "Hold still Miss Cooke~" and with that he moved his hands from the bottom of your legs, running his fingertips along your calfs making you shiver as he formed goosebumps on the skin, your breath hitched when he continued dragging them along your soft thighs down towards your center. Your pussy clenched and you moaned softly almost trying to rock towards him but you held back not moving you didnt' was to fall off the table. You flushed heart racing and your pussy wept onto the cotton making you whine knowing it wouldn't be long befor he noticed. Bruce chuckled at your little whines and soft pants as he bypassed your center and cupped the top of your thighs moving to your hips rubbing slow warm circles before retracing his movements coming back to the soft pudgy thighs then up. He moved again skipping your hot wanting center and began undoing the buttons of his shirt that was draped over you stoping just under your bust and flicking it behinde you pulling it from under your ass roughly causing you to squeak as your heated skin hit the cool pollished wood. He chuckled and moved his hand cupping your throbbing center teasing the wet hole with a firm rub of his fingers squeazing you and circling the damp patch on your undies prodding shallow teasing thrusts. You through your head back and moaned as his hand continued rolling and rubbing the flexing muscles, it was incredible each and every time this man touched you but there something about him groping you through the layers of your clothes...Something taboo about being made to mess your underwear ,drenching them through.  He moved flexing his strong hand squeezing your cunt. In a delicious possessive fashion. You grunted and rocked towards him the friction of your panties rubbing your clit, the warmth of his hand adding to the sensations. Your body was hot already the anticipation of things to come making you pants and breaths hitch his flicking and playing with your growing arousal smearing the small flood with his fingers dragging it across the gusset of your panties in deliberate strokes. "Ive never made you mess your panties before~ would you like that? For me to make you cum? Make you soak them through?" You bit your lip closing your eyes and gyrated your hips against him trying to chase an orgasm that was building far to slowly for your liking. You nodded clenching your fists into his shirt whining as the very first trembles began and you began hearing the your wetness againt his hand on the thin material. "Oh? You like that idea baby? For me to force you to cum? Force you to gush inside these cute little panties all over the table? The table where all the important meetings are held? Let your cum stain the wood right here? Right were I sit and work?" You nodded quickly gasping as his hot palm pulled back, you didn't have a chance to whine as he lifted it and gave a cupped plam slap to your whole wet center. The sharp slap made you jump rocking into him with a gruntal moan. He chuckled again then slapped quicker making you tremble. "FUCK! BRU-bruce! AH SH-IT PLEASE-please fuck please  more~" he chuckled moving his other hand around your throat and squeezed just enough to make your breathes deeper. And slapped your pussy harder making it sting. You cried out nevertheless in lewd moans curling forward each slap left a sting that added to the warm hum of you nerves, insides protesting to being empty as they coiled and tensed. There was a knot deep inside that was pulled tighter and tighter with each movement he made mastering your insides without even touching them. A skill you hadn't truly accepted until now as he toyed with you. "Now now~ is that anyway to call out for your new boss, you should ask nicely.?.Be polite" you shook your head as he slapped again this time keeping it there and rubbed harsher and faster then before concentrating on your erect bud that pressed on the cotton. You bucked one foot slipping but bruce was quick leaning a knee on the table taking the weight of the foot keeping you open and still with a chuckle. He watched as tears began falling from your eyes...You were close so close he could tell. He tipped his hand rubbing the heel of his palm to your clit rubbing violently curling his fingers digging them over your hole pressing harder on the sensitive petals just below. "FuckFUCFUCK NOOO-I'M SORRY SIR! PLEASE MR WAYNE UGHAH AH oh-oh shit plea-please Mr Wayne please sir!" He smiled pressing his hand flat then began patting you quickly making you moan loudly. You closed your eyes pushing your hips towards him crying out as he sped up. Each well placed pat sent tremors up and down your spine you withered, legs tensing and untensing as you tried tochase the high. Your pussy grew warmer and yout breathes sharp. The tell tale signs of an impending orgasm that had crept up on you. "AH-FUCK PLE-PLEASE SIR PLEASE-MR WAYNE UGH-FUUUUGH SHIT PLEASE PLEASE MR WAYNE PLEEAASE!" He smirked and moved faster alternating his rubs and flicks with varying slaps and pinched your body tensed and arched painfully as you crieds out as he drove you higher and higher. "Thats it baby~.....Fuck you look so gorgeous, fucking incredible...Cum! I want you to cum inside those little panties all over my desk baby....Thats it all over Mr Waynes spot~ Good girl!" You choked out moans and grunts your body was shivering and your lust boiled in your tummy and finally with one final harsh wet slap you came loudly throwing yourself back at the force. Bruce barely captured you to soften your fall gently placing you to lie back on the desk ass only just on it. You cried out gyrating against Bruces still patting hand closing your eyes as your body let go falling over the edge of ecstasy. Your mind was blank...Black and there was nothing but the hot wave the full body rush that completely wiped you out leaving you very messy and satisfied.

You laid there panting looking to the ceiling with blurry eyes,you were crying softly and you was sure why. You felt the aftermath your body loose and trembling. You could faintly hear Bruces chuckles in the back ground over your harsh panting. "And that my love is how to cum hard...Shit what even set that one off?" He asked but you just hummed reaching out for him he chuckled and moved closer tugging you down the table, ass just hanging off the edge. You tilted your head up warily eyeing him and sighed flopping back down seeing him loosening his belt with one hand. The next thing you knew he had stepped between your spread thighs smooting his palms over them massaging the still trembling muscles. "Got you good huh babe?" You grunted which resulted in a kiss on your stomach from him. You frowned when he moved closer to line himself up. "Bruce I've got my-" he looked up at you winking and gave a cheeky smile hooking fingers in the side of our gusset. "I know...Wanna fuck with them on for a change...Got a thin for panties at the mineut" you flushed turning your head to the side watching his hands as theymoved to hold you. You were still far to exhausted to move. He just smiled and watched as he hooked the panties to the side. The way they moved made your pussy look plump and fucking perfect! As much as he wanted to feast on the perfectly smooth peach he had other matters to attend.

Bruce grunted letting the crown of his cock brush the wet silken folds, he almost loved this more then fucking you. The intimacy of him just ghosting your body, teasing you with his own cock watching as your tiny body swallowed him. He shuddered and dipped down finding the luxurious slit. Without wasting time he plowed into you. You grunted as he entered you pressing fast and hard you felt as your walls gave way, molding to his girth like always. You'd never get enough! This man was so incredibly intoxicating it was unreal. You moan high as he moved forward putting his weight on his cock he throbbed inside of you, the thick veins almost acting as a pulsing vibrator humming against your still tender nerves ignighting them all over again. He grunted pressing his balls to your pelvis then pulled back only to ram harder. You screeched moving your hands to his wrists as he place his heavy palms on your hips and began tugging you towards him. Soon he found his rhythm a fast unrelenting pace driven by his own impending release. You whined and melwed at ever push and pull his cock was spearin into you, massaging your g spot maing you see stars then finishingneach thrust at your cervix. The almost unbearable mix of pleasure and pain was to much and you screamed throwing your head back and forth spurred on by his growls as his voice got lost. Feral sounds come from him vibrating the air around you as he pounded away determined.

Your body was screaming, it wanted release, it wanted more..And it wanted to rest you trembled knees knocking against his pistoning hips as your insides clutched at him sucking him tighter and tighter then without warning you fell again. This time was much more intense your whole body locked almost cramping and tremblingat thesametime, you couldnt move, or speak you just looked up wide eyed as waves of ecstasy rolled over you. Bruce through his head back with a victorious shout you vaguely felt his balls rise and tighten against you ass then he released inside of you grunting and rutting as he caem drawing it out as mich as he could then finally came to a halt and fell over you.

You panted weeping quietly moving to wipe your face and press our hair back. He arched over you kissing you slow a sensually no tongues nothing lewd just open mouthed kisses pouring his love into you in the best way he knew how. He pulled back looking to you then laughed. "Wow...That was better then I imagined" you nodded agreeing with him and pushed him back. "Babe...My panties are hurting me can you?" He jumped back quickly swiftly removjn him self and tucked himself away whilst pulling your panties back over our center. He patted our mound casually making you jolt and whine. "Bruuuce! No its sensitive!" He smiled eyeing your pussy, even through the wet material he could still tell it was a very happy freshy fucking little pussy! Swollen and pink! Just how he liked it. He moved pulling your trousers to your ankles chuckling. "Two...Three at once!" You frowned for a second then your face dropped...The list. You rolled your eyes and sat up leaning on unsteady arms and watched as he rolled up the trousers pulling then up to your knees. "Okay what were they?" He smiled slyly and hooked an arm around your waist sliding you off the table onto your feet. You staggered in the heels and grabbed his shoulders as he settled your weight onto his chest pulling the trousers up over your ass and zipped them up. "Board room, cum in your panties and fuck you in your fuck me heels! Three down in one hit!" You chuckled up at him as he explained smugly he was definitely proud of this one. You turned faceing the now desecrated table and flinched. Now that was a fucking mess! You turned glaring at him motioning a hand to the puddle. "Bruce -I you? Fuck it you don't care do you?...Nope didn't think so...Fuck my legs are still like jelly!" He grinned and wriggled his eyebrows at you. "Sooo you wont get very far if I said I'm ready for round two?~" you gaped at him instantly looking to his crotch he laughed waving you off. "Not really sweets...Lets go home, we could test out the jets in the bath, its supposed to give you a 'real massage experience'" you frowned at him as he scooped ou up swiping your bag and court settlement the  began leaving the room walking down to the private elevator. "Jets? We had jets in the bath since when?" He flushed as he entered the elevator pressing the garage level. "Since this afternoon...I had a new let spa bath tub fitted in our suite...Damien caught us in the hot tub and yeah-" you blinked not following for a few seconds then clicked.

"HE FUCKING WHAT!? WHEN DID HE-oh my god thats what you were freaked out about!? Oh no oh god he was me-did he see me? Please tell me he didnt?!" Bruce smiled cutely walking out of the elevatore to the car it was the lamboghini again today. "No he didnt see you I covered you but...I figured it wouldnt happen if we had somewhere else with jets so new bath" you sighed nodding as he placed you down by the car then tugged at the folder. "I'm proud of you for this, so very proud you stuck to your guns and you did it alone..You've proved with this that you're not a push over , that your a strong woman .A very very stong independent woman and I am so happy for you, but most of all I'm proud that I get to call you mine!" You smiled cupping his cheek and moved in kissing him softly. "Thank you Bruce, I want to show everyone that...That I may now be considered a kept woman...But I can fight for myself, protect myself when I need to and I'm glad you let me do that you don't know how much it means for you to let me do that" he through his head back laughing loud, you didnt understand you almost felt insulted until he calmed down and cupped your head in both his hands. "I don't let you do anything love! You can do what ever you want...Fucking let you stick up for yourself? Your free to do what ever you want...You want a business? I'll get you a bussines , you want to travel? we will! I'd do anything for you I love you...Outside of the bed you are my fucking queen, but inside the sheet? Your my very own pillow princess-OUCH! FUCK SWEETS?" You swooned he could have asked for anything then and there and youd have said yes...Until the pillow princess  comment. "I'm not a pillow princess! You-just your? UGH! STOP BEING SO FUCKING GOOD AND I'D BE ABLE TO THINK! AND POSSIBLY MOVE!" he laughed ou off opening the passenger side door motioning for you to get in. You rolled your eyes and they say chivalry is dead? Once seated the smiled to yourself. That was probably the most romantic thing he'd said and he had to ruin it with his typiclal bruce smug bull shit...But then again that was your Bruce. He slid into the drivers side.and you leaned over. "Hey babe?" He glanced at you as he turned the ignition reving the car to life.

"Yes my love?"

"You said anything right?" You twiddled your fingers and then move your hand to his thigh as the car began moving.

"Yes sweets anything"

"Teach me to drive-" he squinted nodding agreeing instantly as he pulled out ontothe road. "This thing" he snapped his gaze to you. What? His precious heart,  his beautiful little lover, sweet girlfriend behind the wheel of a seriously powerfull supercar? His heart almost stopped at the idea. "Are-are you sure? Its a powerful car...Don’t you want me to get you something err less-" "No I love this car its the first one you drove me around in...I want to drive it Bruce" he looked to you casually and pulled out tothe main road slowly cursing himself. He was going to refuse on the grounds of your own safty but, one look at your puppydog eyes and that was it you clapped cutely with a small 'yay'... one thing was for sure before you got behinde the wheel there was going to be some serious automatic breaking sensors put on...and a fucking speed limiter....and bullet proof windows and panels....Maybe some traker devices to...Like the one in your bracelet. "Babe I can here you thinking...Its just a car love don't...Don't go 'batting' it out okay?" Bruce didn't look at you as he drove on just a vaguely familiar hmm that meant he was pretending to agree with you...Or not listening one of the two his hmm's are all very similar. 

[sunflwrvolume6]

plausible deniability [seven]

kept secrets

Her head swims as she realises she’s lost. A small voice tells her she will never leave this corridor and she’ll die here, become a skeletal decoration. Aila swallows thickly and tries to decide which corner to take: the one before her, or the one at the other end.

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Aila doesn’t remember falling asleep. She doesn’t remember whether she tossed and turned all night or if she even dreamt at all. All she knows is waking to a pounding headache and a bitter taste in her mouth. She blinks slowly then sits up, stretching out the kinks in her body.

The mattress is better than the one she has at home. Aila reaches for the elastic band on her wrist, pulling her hair into a low ponytail as she examines the room like she hadn’t been able to last night.

Deep burgundy curtains are drawn tightly together around the room, fragmenting the pale creme-coloured walls. A black rug spreads across the floor around the bed frame. The mirror above the chest of drawers is gilded with gold, elaborate carvings along the edges. A nightstand sits beside the bed, and her phone sits on top. White against mahogany. There are no other decorations.

No one must sleep here, she thinks. Aila exhales sharply and pats the mattress. Would Niall think it weird if she asked to take it home? Shaking the thought away, she pushes back the heavy comforter and clambers off the bed. Her uniform hangs from a hook on the back of the door, and another pile of clothes are stacked neatly on the bureau. A folded piece of paper rests on top.

Aila, these are for you to keep. Breakfast is in the dining room whenever you’re ready.

The handwriting takes her aback. Loopy and tidy, it doesn’t exactly match what she’s seen of Niall’s personality. Aila sets the note aside and picks up the blouse. The black fabric flows like water between her fingers, the silken smoothness interrupted only by the intricate lacework along the neckline. Her cheeks flush when she sees the underwear that had been hidden beneath the top.

Had he chosen them? Or did he have Scary-Woman pick them out? Whoever did it did a good job. Aila blows out a breath and hurriedly changes. It should concern her that everything fits comfortably. That the outfit is the same style as something she would have purchased for herself—if she could afford it.

She makes sure to grab her phone and bag before leaving the room. The creme walls have extended to the hallway, white marble twin snakes on either side of a maroon rug running the length of the hall. Aila pauses next to a painting on the wall: Rolling fields of green, a cluster of cottages under an expansive stretch of blue sky. She has no idea what place the painting depicts—it certainly isn’t Primden or any of the surrounding towns—but it radiates peace, stability, home. A small scribble in the corner marks the artist’s name, though she can’t decipher it. It looks like a blob.

Breakfast is in the dining room. Right. She was on a mission. Where is the dining room? She had been so frazzled last night, she hadn’t paid attention to the path Niall had taken when bringing her to the room.

Her head swims as she realises she’s lost. A small voice tells her she will never leave this corridor and she’ll die here, become a skeletal decoration. Aila swallows thickly and tries to decide which corner to take: the one before her, or the one at the other end.

A quiet shriek escapes her lips when someone rounds the corner in front of her. The older man’s face remains impassive as Aila clasps a hand to her chest. As if it will control the sudden galloping of her heart. As if it can calm her breathing. It doesn’t work, but she tries to find comfort in the pressure above her sternum.

“I was looking for the dining room?”

She winces when the words come out as a question. The man nods stiffly and turns on his heel, striding away. Aila scurries to follow him. He may not know it, but he’s saved her from rotting in this house. His steps are measured, the route a well-learnt path, and Aila forces herself to not gawk at the decor they pass.

He comes to a stop just outside enormous doors. Voices come from the other side, unintelligible through the wood, and Aila meets the man’s gaze. His chin dips, then he reaches out for the handles with gloved hands. The doors swing open without a sound, and she watches as the people in the dining room come into view.

Niall sits at the head of the long table, and the driver who gave her a lift home that day is to his right. Scary-Woman sits to the left. Aila is focused on the soft smile on Niall’s face, not bothering to look at the others. He waves the old man away. The man bows and leaves Aila alone. She inhales as steadily as possible, hoping to draw strength from it, but her knees still shake as she takes the seat the driver vacates.

As she sits, she finally takes stock of the others. Her brows furrow. “Didn’t you get picked up by the police?”

The man’s cheeks flush a furious red, eyes flashing. His scowl disturbs the sharp lines of his cheeks. Someone down the table snorts, a hand clapping over his mouth, and even Niall appears amused by her enquiry.

“He did. He was let out.”

“Why was he stalking me?”

“Not stalking, love. I asked Zayn to keep an eye on you for your protection.”

“Yeah, that worked out well,” she grumbles, and Niall’s gaze drops to the table, pink tinting the tops of his ears. “Anyway. If you wanted me to have a bodyguard, you probably should have picked someone less attractive.”

Niall tilts his head with a brow raised. She almost gets lost in his eyes, but his voice distracts her, pulls her out of the daze. “What do you mean?”

“He’s too… pretty, I guess, to be inconspicuous. He stood out in a crowd. Wait, why the fuck did you have someone tailing me?”

He sighs, raises his hands in surrender, and promises to explain after breakfast. She frowns, wanting to argue, but he’s already moved on. She sits back as a woman sets a plate in front of her. She picks at the food and wonders if she can get by with not eating. Her thoughts are racing too much for her to feel any hunger.

Niall pushes her fork closer to her without even taking his eyes off the man he’d had following Aila. She blows out a breath and picks up the utensil. His lips quirk as she takes a bite. The others talk around her, obviously assured she won’t understand the coded phrases. They aren’t wrong, she thinks. She has no hopes of understanding. So she only picks at her food and tunes them out as much as she can.

Aila comes back to herself when she realises she’s alone with Niall. Her eyes widen at the empty chairs and silence. He swallows down the rest of his coffee before gesturing for her to follow him from the room. His hand settles, warm and gentle, on her lower back as he guides her to a room across the foyer.

Navy blue walls greet her, and the same burgundy curtains hang over the windows here though they’re tied back. Weak sunlight barely touches the room, but the lamps on the end-tables illuminate the space enough. A chessboard sits below the front window, two wingback chairs placed on either side, and the far wall is blocked off by bookshelves that stretch from floor to ceiling.

Niall waves toward the couch in the centre of the room, and Aila sits at one end while he takes the other. She stares at the coffee-table, at the knives and wire spread across the surface. She shifts uncomfortably when she recognises them from the films she’s watched with her friends.

“When I realised my wallet was missing, I figured someone would have found it at some point.” Niall smiles when she finally meets his eye. “I have more faith in humanity than most would like, but even I didn’t figure it would be brought back with nothing stolen. You surprised me.”

Aila scratches idly at her hairline. “There was nothing in it. I told you that.”

Her tone is too defencive, she knows it is, but all Niall does is laugh and shake his head.

“Yes, well, that just further proves you didn’t search through it for longer than it took to get my address. If you had, you would have found my bank cards.�� His face settles into seriousness, and he hesitates before turning to face her more fully. “When I saw everything was just as it was when I lost it, it intrigued me. I’ve lived here for almost nine years. People don’t often return lost items without demands of compensation.

“But you? You wanted to return it directly to me—or rather, Mister Niall Ho-ran. It’s Horan, by the way. And you yelled at the guard because he walked away without offering you a lift home. Which is why I sent Mully after you. Didn’t want you to freeze to death after being so kind to me.”

“I appreciate that. Well, my feet do, anyway.” She pauses, running her finger along the seam in the leather cushion. “Still can’t tell me anything, can you?”

“You believe me when I say I wish I could, don’t you?”

“I suppose I have to, don’t I? It’s the only answer I’ve ever gotten from you.”

Niall gives her a crooked grin. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You’re something else, Aila.”

Her gaze drifts along the expanse of his body, the T-shirt over broad shoulders and chest. The slacks that hardly conceal the muscles of his thighs. Her eyes focus a second too long on the stretch of fabric between his legs. Cheeks flushing, Aila quickly looks away.

“So what are your plans for the day?” he asks as if he hasn’t noticed her checking him out.

“Probably go home and sleep some more. I have tonight and tomorrow morning off, so my roommates and I will most likely have a belated Junk Night.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. What exactly is ‘Junk Night’?”

Aila laughs and wonders how she can explain it without making it sound like they’re all a bunch of gluttons. “Well, we’re broke as Hell, so we pool our money once a week to get a bunch of takeaway and criticise whatever films we’re watching that night. Last time was the Godfather series, but there wasn’t much we could criticise about those. They’re classics.”

“You like mafia films, then?”

She wonders about the slight downturn to his lips, the darkness in his eyes. She nods and explains she likes almost any movie she watches. She’s more particular about books, but she can usually find at least one redeeming quality with films. Even the worst ones.

“Anyway, Junk Night is basically just a reason for the five of us to hang out, relax, and forget about the fact we’re all working too long hours for too little pay to put up with the shit we do.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“It is. Which is why I forgot to text you back before.”

Niall laughs and pats her knee. Aila’s breath catches in her throat at the contact. “And I told you that you’re forgiven for it.” He checks the time then grimaces. “I hate to do this, but I’ve a meeting to get ready for. Whenever you want to go home, let Tania or Mully know. They’ll give you a lift.”

Aila nods and watches him stand. The muscles in his back ripple beneath the cotton of his shirt, slacks tightening around his ass before relaxing once he’s fully upright. He smiles down at her, fingers brushing along her cheek as he passes, and a fluttering kicks up in her chest. His touch was soft—almost inconsequential—but it still affects her. She hardly dares to believe in the juxtaposition of the feather-light contact and the hard ice in his eyes the last time they saw each other.

“Am I allowed to text you again?” she asks; her voice is small, and she waits with bated breath and heart racing.

He pauses at the doorway, but he doesn’t turn around. “I’d like it if you did.”

Then he’s gone. Aila listens to his footsteps as they fade then stares around the room. Nothing catches her interest. Her head is spinning too wildly for her focus. This is a totally different Niall than she saw the last two times they were face-to-face. He’s still guarded. He keeps his cards held too closely to his chest. But she doesn’t feel like it’s her fault anymore, that she somehow caused him to pull away.

Whatever he’s hiding is on him. She has to trust that the truth will out eventually.

His name is in her contact list once more.

Rising to her feet, Aila exits the room in search of Mully. Tania—she assumes Tania is the woman from last night—is far too frightening. She’s been in close quarters with Mully before; she can at least have faith he won’t kill her for stumbling into Niall’s life.

“May I help you, Miss?”

Aila whirls around, eyes wide. The old man watches her with glittering eyes. She gasps in a breath.

“You need to wear a bell.”

His lips twitch minutely as he bows his head. “I apologise, Miss. My intention wasn’t to startle you. May I help you?”

“Yeah, um, I’m looking for Mully.”

“I’m sorry. Mister Sean has just left. Miss Tania is around if you’re interested in speaking with her.”

“She isn’t going to, like, murder me, is she?”

“Of course not, Miss. Mister Niall would not be pleased if she did.”

“Then I guess I’ll talk to her.”

“Right this way.”

Tania is sat at the edge of a gigantic indoor pool when the man leads Aila through the archway. He bows again and disappears. His footsteps are far too quiet. Aila draws in a steadying breath before turning back to Tania. Zayn and two of the men from breakfast are swimming laps, none of them paying attention to the newcomer.

“Uh, Tania?”

“What?”

“Niall told me to ask you for a lift home?”

Tania glances back over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. Finally, she scoffs and clambers to her feet. “If he said to ask, then I guess I have no choice.”

“I can take the train back, it’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, that’ll go over as well as a lead balloon. Niall won’t risk your safety like that. Lou, I’ll be back. Keep these idiots in line.”

Lou waves a hand, grinning brightly at Aila, and dives under the water again. The other two follow suit. Tania’s soft smile disappears when she faces Aila. No words are spoken as Tania leads her through the corridors, through a kitchen bustling with activity, and into a garage. Aila can’t stop the gasp.

Seven cars are sheltered from the weather outside. From vintage to modern, every single one of them shine in the overhead lights. Tania makes her way to a gleaming teal sports car and pulls open the door.

“You coming or what?”

Aila rushes to the passenger door. Bass thunders through the car once Tania starts the engine. She doesn’t bother waiting for Aila to buckle up; she presses a button on the pad above her head, and the garage door rises with a rumbling hum. She reverses quickly out of the building, a sharp smile on her pale face when she sees Aila clinging to the door handle.

Aila doesn’t let go as Tania goes well over the speed limit. She takes curves far too fast. She weaves through the traffic cluttering up downtown. She doesn’t slow down even when the lights turn yellow. Eventually—sooner than Aila expected—the car squeals to a stop outside of her house. Tania stares out her window while Aila steps out of the car.

Before she can shut the door behind her, Tania lowers the music and leans over. “Don’t fuck this up, Aila.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just remember that.”

“You’re making me remember an awful lot without explanation.”

“You’ll never get one from me,” Tania says with a snort. “Now go away.”

Aila pushes the door closed, and Tania speeds away. These people are demanding too much of her patience if they expect her to be okay with not having answers.

[ginasneesby]

New Zealand 2018 - first week

So I did it, I planned to move to New Zealand for a year and I actually did it. The last thing that I decided I wanted to do and actually did was to start tap dancing when I was 15 so it's only taken me another 14 years to achieve something I said I was going to do. Obviously, that doesn't include uni and London etc because that was a natural step, this is so far away from my normal life it's a little scary but I'm also very excited for what the year will hold.

I flew on the evening of the 9th of January and was escorted to the airport by my parents, my sister and my two best girls. We had a meal and a drink, I was given some lovely presents and then I made them leave me so I could go sit at the gate and not make a big scene in the departure lounge. I'm going to miss everyone like crazy but I hope travelling and having new experiences will fill that gap; at least a little. My first flight was about 14 hours long, luckily I had nobody sitting next to me so I had a bit of room, but I was also trying to stay awake this journey to try and get on the right time so I watched films for most of the flight and didn't mind being in one seat and up right. Of all the films I watched Deepwater Horizon was probably the best one it made me forget that I was on a plane which is always good when you're sat down for so freaking long. I stopped off in Manila for 3 or so hours, it wasn't too bad although it's a weird feeling to be tired so you want to sit down but also want to do anything but sit down because that's all you've done for the last day and will do again for the next 10 hours. There is also absolutely fuck all to do, so I spent my time listening to sense and sensibility on Audible, I wish I downloaded a better book. The next flight was 10 hours I was in the middle of 4 and every seat was taken and I noticed there was no entertainment system in front of me. Ho Ly Shit!! Luckily my plan was to sleep for most of this flight, I managed about 5 hours having had a little kip on the first flight, but that still meant 4 hours until we landed with no films to watch and nothing downloaded as I have no memory. I can't tell you the last time I cycled through Candy Crush, Angry Birds and other such games for such a long time all while listening to Jane Austen. It was a very boring few hours, but I made it! I landed, collected my bags, got through immigration and customs and after a desperate cigarette got a shuttle which took me straight to the door of my Airbnb in Grafton. I was determined not to ruin the good work I had done on the plane so even though I was pretty tired I went out for a walk found the local supermarket and bought a few things for dinner. It's quite an experience walking around a supermarket hungry and jetlagged, you can't make any decisions on what you want to eat but you kind of want everything, after I walked home with the food I then wasn't hungry at all so I had a few chips and dip and went to sleep. I woke up at 3 o'clock in the morning really hungry so ate a little something, luckily I managed to go back to sleep easily and woke up at a more reasonable time.

My first job was to try and find a car, I had a budget of about $2,000 which is about £1100, it didn't have to be anything spectacular it just had to last me a year! Maybe I was looking in the wrong place but nobody really had cars for that price, they were all a lot more expensive, one dealer did have a car in that price range, it was a bit older than I would have wanted but I thought I'll have a look and take it for a drive, however he came back to tell me but they'd actually lost the keys about a month ago. Good work guys. So a bit deflated and a bit sunburnt, why did no one tell me it was going to be so hot! I trekked back to my Airbnb stopping at a pub, an Irish pub obvs, and then decided to go to an off licence to buy some more beer and try to salvage the day. That's always the best thing to do when you're worried about how much to spend on a car, right? Spend it on beer instead and then the issue is gone. I have to say I did have a lovely evening sitting by myself, on the deck, in the sun, getting slightly tipsy and watching comedy programmes on Netflix (Jess is a life saver!) Although I was slightly surprised, it being Friday night that no one else in the Airbnb appeared or even came to say hello, luckily it wasn't my proper accommodation; that would be really sucky.

The next day I had arranged a number of viewings for places to live, the first one although a nice room was living with a family which I didn't realise, yeah no thanks. The next one was quite nice but unfurnished and quite a long way from any shops or pubs, it was on a highway which would be really helpful to get to work but not so fun when you have to drive everywhere. Also some of the neighbours have swimming pools which the girls who lived there said was actual torture on hot days; however it was still top of my list. The third one was a small room which didn't even fit the bed in and there was only one bathroom between me and two boys, it was also upstairs so I would have had to trek through the house if I needed a wee at night. There was also the slight problem of both boys being vegan, yeah no thanks. I had a few more viewings the next day so I wasn't too worried although it's always slightly nerve-racking when other people have viewed, if they didn't pick me, I may have been forced to live somewhere awful. That evening I have plans to go to dinner with my two aunts who came to New Zealand that day and we're heading down to Queenstown to see my cousin play in the under 19 England cricket World Cup team, of all the places in the world it could have been held, it was here. It was very nice to see some familiar faces and actually talk to some people as I haven't really done that for a few days unless I was buying something. We went to a really nice Thai restaurant called Saan where they recommend you buy the large dishes and share them, we shared some starters and have some smaller dishes to ourselves and were absolutely stuffed, whether that's portion size or jet lag I don't know, either way they paid and I was home by about 9:30 and ready for bed.

Sunday morning and I was getting up at 7 o'clock, unthinkable, but I had a viewing and a carfair to get to, this was going to be my best shot at finding a car for the right price. The viewing before was a nice place with one lady, she liked feeding the pigeons outside her front door which meant that they gathered there and harassed you, and she listened to country and western music... for fun. But the place was nice enough, not too expensive and I wouldn't have to buy a bed which was a big plus, she also give me a lift down to the fair which was about 5 minutes away so I wouldn't be late. She had only shown around one other person and would prefer me so she didn't have to live with a guy; so she went to the top of my list. The car fair was a massive success, they had a whole section for under $5,000 and I saw quite a few around 2000, although was quite surprised to see some very old cars(1994) hoping to get 3 and a half to 4, wishful thinking guys. I'd be interested to know if they sold for when I come to resell my car, I think I could get more for it then I paid, especially as the registration only has to be renewed yearly because it's from 2000; apparently backpackers like this and so are willing to pay slightly more. The guy selling the car told me it have broken down recently and so he had bought another car in the meantime and then fixed the problem so he just wanted to get rid of it, he was selling it for 1250. So not only was it a lot cheaper than most of the other cars it had recently been serviced and old bits replaced for new, we took it out onto the highway to check it would go up to 100 kilometres an hour without exploding and when I was satisfied, and the check came back saying it wasn't stolen and there were no massive debts on it, I bought it!!! My only issue is that it's automatic and only 1.3 l engine, not great for a country with lots of big hills, but I'm pretty much used to it already, there wasa bit of toing and froing changing the owner as I had an international licence and then sending the money as I didn't bring my card reader with me and didn't have data yet, but eventually we sorted it out and I came back home. Adulting level one succeeded. My last viewing was up on the north shore near the hospital that I'm going to be working at, this meant crossing the Harbour Bridge with the amazing view of Auckland CBD that I remember from 10 years ago. The place is setback in the bush and down a wicked driveway that reminds me of a holiday home we once had in France, you don't want to stall on that bad boy! It's a beautiful 4 bedroom house, a decent sized room with the loo right next door and two bedrooms downstairs who tend to use the bathroom. The other people living here are more my age and the landlords have a holiday home down the coast that they're trying to get me to already, so I agreed to take the room on the spot. (And I might head to that holiday home!) That night, I don't think I even made it to 8:30 before falling asleep, it had been a busy day.

My only job for Monday was to move into my new place so I quickly ran into town before my check out to see if I could open a bank account, apparently they're very busy and I couldn't get an appointment for a few days, so I thought I'd wait and do it at the branch near my new place. I did get a SIM card which means I have data, I didn't need a bank account or an address which is annoying as I would have got it on day one, I dread to think what my phone bill will be like after texting a lot of people about viewings etc from my UK number. I also got stung in a parking place as the machine didn't take cash and wouldn't accept my cards, by the time I found another machine it was charging me over the hour so I paid $12 for 45 minutes of parking. Needless to say my true Brit came out and I did a bit of shouting at the machine and may have called the car park a cunt. Check out with simple and I stopped at the supermarket on the way to my new place to grab some lunch stuff, and made my appointment with the bank for Thursday, who knew banks was so busy!? After unpacking most of my stuff I headed back to the shopping mall and into warehouse which is a wonderful shop, you can buy pretty much anything and most things in bulk. I bought a set of shelves where I could store my makeup and random bits and bobs and also a mirror so I have somewhere to do my makeup that isn't the little toilet. I then did a big food shop channeling my sister in planning breakfast lunch and dinner for the week, however I did have to count every cent as I went around as the money I had in my purse is all I have until I get my deposit back. My old landlord has at least been in touch and taken my bank details so hopefully it's on it's way, but I did give them to her on Friday and nothing has appeared yet; this is the only annoying thing about the time difference, for me it's end of day Tuesday where as she hasn't woken up yet so won't answer my text for a while.

I slept very well in my nice comfy bed and was trying to think what to do with my day when I looked out the window and saw it was raining, how bloody rude. After breakfast and lounging for a bit it cleared up so I jumped in my car and drove up the coast to go for a walk, I went to Parry Kauri Park and went for quite a muggy jaunt amongst the trees, the sounds and smells were beautiful. The rain had made the forest smell lovely and every so often patches of sunlight came streaming through the super tall trees, it did however mean I was absolutely baking by the time I finished my half hour walk, on my way back down I stopped in on the coast and sat in the shade looking at the waves enjoying the breeze. I also took a quick detour to Takapuna Beach which is my closest one to see what it looked like, the waves were immense and there were loads of people windsurfing, however it was still lovely and warm. I don't have anything planned for this evening and don't have a firm time frame on when I will start work so I may start planning a little excursion for the end of the week, even if it's only with my landlords to their other property.

[sunset-wishes-upon-hill]

Scent of a Human Chapter I (Batman FF)

A/N: I’m very sure you’re all surprised to see the title. Well, I have written them a year ago but never uploaded them on anywhere until today. This story features an OC and it’s another time/dimensional travelling fic! This time to Gotham! This FF is based on Nolan-verse Batman movie. Random upload but for some reason, I was like I wanna share this with others.

It wasn’t easy building a new life from the ground in a world you didn’t exist. From the beginning, the fate has been against her. She had no idea how she came to be in this world, a world that should have stayed, in utmost logic, fictional. She was 24 when she found herself lost in what she soon came to realise, Gotham. Two years has passed and it was the most difficult, arduous two years she’ll probably experience in her life. She had nothing other than a small backpack on her back and in the bag was her wallet, phone, key, few snacks and a water bottle. Thankfully her money was genuine enough to be accepted by the stores and cheap motels, but her cards she later found out the hard way, were ‘fraudulent’.

The little money she had on her didn’t even last her a full week and soon ended up on the street, begging for spare changes until a homeless charity worker found her rough sleeping in the alley next to the trash cans. She had been on the street for approximately six months or so, approximate because she didn’t really keep up with the time she’s been here. She didn’t want to move from the small area of street she claimed, a home she could call ever since she lost her first one. They half forcibly took her from her safe corner because she was young and hadn’t been on the street for a long time and more importantly, she was a young female. Being a young female in the street was a disaster waiting to happen, and she was grateful the most closest danger she got to was an assault. A fellow rough sleeper stole her bag and can of money she made on that day and he was more concerned with taking what she had than taking a step further.

“What is your name?” A kind looking woman asked in a gentle tone, “How old are you?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she burst into loud cry. Crying, it seemed, was an everyday occurrence for her. She’d cry several times a day, whether she was eating, sleeping, doing nothing thinking of her life she had in her world, she had a job, her parents, two lousy but close brother and sister. She had something. It wasn’t much, but still she had something.

“Please help me.” She managed out in trembling tone.

The woman, taking her plea for help at face value, rubbed a hand down her arm in gesture meant to be soothing.

“Don’t worry, we’re here.”

“Anne?”

The hostel she was assigned in also had a mental health centre where group of clinicians would visit once a week to those in need. They suspected she had depression or some sort of mental health and had persuaded her to take part in group and one-to-one counselling session offered by the charity. She refused at first, counselling session required that both the client and therapist be truthful to each other which she absolutely cannot unless she want to be institutionalised. Not that she had anything to lose from being institutionalised; she’ll have a roof over her head, warm three meals a day, healthcare and somewhere permanent at least.

“Give it a try, Anne.” Emma, the woman who found and brought her in, grinned, “Everything you say would be confidential and having someone to talk to would be good for you.”

She didn’t know how she actually agreed to it, everything seems to happen in a blur to her these days but she was sitting with a doctor who could not have been much older than in the sofa who with glasses that framed his piercing blue stares that regarded her like a new specimen brought into his lab. She wasn’t much fan of Batman comic or movies or materials related to it, but she had seen the movies to realise who the man standing in front of her with the face of the familiar actor whose notable feature were his ocean blue eyes.

She couldn’t remember the actor’s name but she repeated inwardly that this man was not the actor, but a character who wore his face and a very different man.

“Hello, Miss. Reyes.” He gave her a smile that was supposed to make her comfortable but it didn’t reach his cold eyes and his smile was icy and impersonal, “I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane, please take a sit.”

He gestured to a small armchair in front of him and Anne took a step back.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” She said, feeling like a child who decided to be brave and offered herself to be vaccinated first among her peers only to falter at the sight of the needle that was more painful-looking than she had expected.

There was that smile again, she noted as he leaned back and said, “I understand you must be feeling much distress–“ Oh you have no idea “–and perturbation from your recent experience but that is why I am here. Please, Miss. Reyes, sit down.”

This only wanted to make her run and disappear into the street. But something about his imposing stares and overall unnerving presence seemed to force her down into the armchair albeit with great reluctance.

He flicked through a folded paper tucked in the file before glancing up at her, “Before we begin, I want you to know that anything you or I say in this room will remain confidential. The only circumstance where I must disclose the information is if I must uphold my duty to protect and care for you and others or when consulting colleague provided that I first obtain your permission to do so and I will do my best to conceal your identity and any associated parties involved. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“There isn’t much information about you, is there?” He gestured to the thin paper he held up.

The only thing she had given them was her name, age and earliest known month she remembered seeing in the newspaper while she was still on the street. She had no IDs and because of that, she had nearly been denied the shelter, but because there was greater risk for her out in the street, which made her a priority, they had taken her in although what must be done after was much more difficult, if not impossible. Like trying to find a permanent accommodation, background check or open a bank account, or applying for any government benefit she could be eligible for; the list was endless. She was a dead woman, but even a dead woman had some sort of record of her life if one dug for it. She was a non-existent dead woman.

Emma assured her that this was a common problem amongst her clients, that people like her were ‘pseudo-citizens’ because they had little to no proof that they actually existed on paper or system.

He closed the file, “Shall we discuss more about you before I do any assessment? It’s said that you cannot remember where you lived and that your IDs has been stolen, correct?”

She nodded.

“When is the earliest memory you have that you can remember?”

“…Six months ago.”

“When you first started rough sleeping?”

She nodded.

“Do you remember sustaining any head injuries prior to your memory loss? Any sign that you may have sustained such wounds, such as sensitivity in the skull area? Repeated episode of vomiting? Sudden bruising or swelling around the eyes or behind ears? Loss of hearing or double visions?”

Anne paused to think, it’d be easier for him to think she had amnesia from the injury. She nodded.

“What symptoms have you experienced?”

“Vomiting, umm..double visions, my head felt sensitive for few days like I’ve bumped it somewhere.”

He jotted down into his notepad.

“And where were you when you’ve noticed the gap in your memory.”

“I was just on the street with my bag.” She said, “I had some money but that ran out so I started to…” She felt her cheeks redden, it wasn’t the most dignifying thing to say you were homeless, “..Sleep rough.”

“And in your bag, what was in there?”

“My wallet and my phone.”

“And you had some form of IDs in your wallet before it was stolen?”

She nodded.

“Was there a driving license?”

She nodded.

“And in that, there was your picture with name and your date of birth?”

She nodded.

“There should have been your house address there as well, do you remember?”

She shook her head after faltering for a moment.

“Why? You must have tried to find your way back home, no?”

“I-I….it was far.”

“How far?”

“I couldn’t afford it.”

“And you can’t remember the address.”

“I forgot. I’m not good at remembering.”

“Before your head injury or after.”

“Even before.” She snapped, “Is this really necessary?”

His eyes slightly narrowed, as if he felt something amiss with her story, “Yes, Miss. Reyes. As your therapist, the only way we can work with each other is if we remain truthful to each other. That means telling me everything you know, and it will be confidential as I assured you in the beginning.”

“I want to go home, but I can’t, OK.” She felt her tears coming, her eyes notably blinking more frequently.

“Why can’t you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Anne said, “I’m not even gonna say it because you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Well, I’m a psychiatrist.” He revealed and something in his eyes sparked, “I’ve seen my fair share of crazy.”

She shook her head in discouragement, “Not like this. Not like mine.”

“Entertain me.”

Anne glued her mouth shut.

She didn’t know how long the time past, glancing over her shoulder to look at the clock that hung facing him. The clock was deliberately positioned in such way that the client could forget the concept of time while they were in a ‘safe zone’ and therapist could covertly glance up at the time to keep track of his next appointment without making the client feel rushed or pressured. It was their job to manage the time and end the session appropriately.

“Is something holding you back?” He asked, ever so patiently, “If you could afford to go back, will you?”

“Of course I’ll go back if I could afford to, but I can’t.”

“What is it that you cannot afford?”

“I don’t even know.” She shrugged, unless there was a hero with magical power that could transport her into her world.

“What is holding you back?”

Anne shrugged once again.

“What are you afraid of?” There was a malicious glean when he said the word ‘afraid’.

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“It must be something.”

“You won’t understand.” She said, “No one can.”

“Allow me to understand.”

“When does this session finish?”

“That is my job, Miss. Torres. I’m here to listen, not judge.” He had a way with words, Anne admitted, if she weren’t aware of what kind of man he was behind the cool façade, she’d probably open up her deepest fear to him.

“Well, Doctor, you can listen to my silent to the end of session.” Anne tried to relax her stiff form in the armchair, it didn’t help the armchair wasn’t the fluffy one but a very hard, cheap ones made with low quality leather.

She tried to look everywhere but him, his eyes following her movements like a hawk scanning its prey on the ground before swooping down to hook its prey in its sharp beak. Anne wished she could control the seeping nervousness that filled the room, she knew he could feel it because every twitch she made, small smile would form on his lips. He thrived in fear; it was why he did what he did.

Every second was agonisingly slow, much slower than the six months she spent on the street.

“Well, Miss. Reyes, it seems our time is up.”

Her shoulders relaxed notably as he wrapped up the session.

“I think we can schedule our next appointment next Monday, is that alright with you?”

“Thanks but I’m fine.”

“The one that asks for no help is the one that needs help the most. For your sake, I suggest we keep working with each other as we figure out the best way I can help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“It was nice meeting you, Miss. Reyes.”

She didn’t say anything.

[rubyastari]

What I’ve Learned From Being Pickpocketed...for The Third Time!

“On July 30, at around 8:00 pm at Karet-Kuningan Trans-Jakarta Shelter, South Jakarta, somebody behind me had dared unzipped my backpack and taken my phone and wallet away. I'd realised then about 30 minutes later. My phone number is **-***********.

Fat chance that I'll ever get any of them back. So I'll be doing a lot of 'first things first' tomorrow, from visiting the police station to the bank to the Trans-Jakarta centre with a police warrant for a permit to watch their cctv records.

Whoever has my wallet and phone now, they'd better pray they'll never have to deal with me.”

 Alright, I know I sound scary when posting that on my social media. I guess many people could already tell just how freaked out I’d been when that happened.

For your information, this is the third time I’ve been pickpocketed. Believe me, this is not because of my pure recklessness. Jakarta is shady in so many ways. In short, let me recount the other two similar incidents:

1.    At the mall.

The first time I got pickpocketed was at one of the malls in South Jakarta, about a decade ago. (Yep, you can tell how old I am now!) That night with Ma, I was searching for a pair of new shoes for me.

The M.O. was the same: somebody had snuck behind me, unzipped my small backpack, and then taken out my wallet. Thankfully, my old phone back then was so small and right at the bottom of the bag inside. It was safe.

Of course, I never got the wallet back. I was so crushed that day, because it was the most beautiful wallet (with cat pictures on it) that my sister had given me for my birthday. Plus, I lost the photos of my friends and I.

What had annoyed me the most? The police officer at the precinct close to home had asked for IDR 10K (as part of the admin fee) for him to type my missing wallet report. I remember gaping at him before replying: “Sir, I lost my wallet. I have no money, okay?”

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t budge. I ended up handing him the note from Ma...sulkily of course. That was some protection and servive, eh?

 2.    The bus, a few years after.

I forgot what year, but it happened while I was on the bus – on my way to work. Feeling tired from lack of sleep, I’d fallen asleep.

I’m sure you can tell what happened after that. I woke up to find my bag unzipped...and my wallet gone. Thankfully, not my phone. I’d stored it somewhere in the inner pocket of the bag.

Still, that was bloody annoying.

The good thing was, the police officer was kinder and more sympathetic than the first one when the same thing had happened to me.

Since then, I’ve hated public buses. Trans-Jakarta is relatively okay, as long as the other passengers are not literally pushy like a stampede!

 Those two events had occured when I was still living in my family. This one was different.

I had to admit, I’d freaked out quite much that night. After calming myself down, I retraced my steps and asked anyone at the last bus shelter I’d been in. No such luck. I returned home empty-handed and with absolute fury.

First things first, I requested all my ATM cards in the wallet to be blocked – via online. Then I emailed my boss to let me skip work to do all the missing/lost/stolen reports.

After that, I alerted anybody I thought I needed to be alerted. My family, my friends, and even my freelance clients and my current editor. (I’m working on a book.)

Of course, I tried to do some work that night, but only managed to finish a little. I’d been too upset, so I finally fell into a very, restless sleep.

-***-

The next morning, I tried locating my phone via Google. No such luck. Whoever did it must have turned it off or exchanged my SIM card. To secure all my data, I digitally deleted my phone.

Then I went to the nearest police station, which was far from pleasant. (Is it ever?)

For the record, this is no Hollywood action movie where the cops are always willing to help by jumping straight into action. Just like before, I could only file a report and then...that’s it. Nothing else. Don’t expect too much.

Maybe I shouldn’t act all privileged. We’re talking about government officials, law enforcement who are overworked, exhausted, underpaid, and probably have seen too much of ugliness in the world already. No wonder they’ve become skeptical...almost rather cynical.

No wonder one of the officers on the second floor, who had read my first report made by the first officer on the first floor, sneered at me:

“This is just a general missing case.”

GENERAL. Thank you so much. How belittling.

Not wanting to stick around their negativity, I left the police station and went straight to the bank instead. All day long, it was totally an emergency treatment for the loss.

Don’t ask me about work that day. I’d tried to catch up with as much as I could, even when I didn’t go to work at all. (Thank you, digital life!) Even with my freelance stuff, I’d lagged behind.

What I’ve learned from being pickpocketed? Just don’t get pickpocketed. You have no choice but to be careful and more aware with surroundings. This is important, especially if you’re on your own in big cities. You never know.

Don’t expect too much from the local law enforcement. This is not a movie where the good guys always win. Sometimes you have to accept that you don’t get what you want.

That’s just it.

If you ask me, I can forgive the officer’s cold response – as long as the cops pay more attention to cases like rapes, human-trafficking, and murder. I still know how to earn more money.

 R.

[shortlivedplaces]

I hate being a victim, taken advantage of or feeling vulnerable. But life makes no exception for me.

Madrid is wonderful, its a metropolis full of culture, food and excitement. But the dark side to it is the crime. Theft and picket pockets, scams and card copying is common. I experienced them all. The downside is that as cautious as you are, you will be a target if you look like a tourist. Even though I am a resident here, I stand out like a sore thumb. I have blonde hair and a pale complexion- I look like a tourist. Which means I am a target. It makes me rather anxious to think that people see me as a target, but I thought more on this and being a woman can sadly make me more vulnerable, being young is another factor for vulnerability also. I need to remember this but vulnerability is not to be confused with victim blaming, to put things short you should never take advantage of other people. In any way, end of. It began when in October my purse was stolen out of my bag in a shop whilst it was right next to me, you wouldn’t think that in less than 20 seconds of taking you eyes or hand off your bag someone can snatch your valuables- they can. Thankfully they got my purse and I never carry cash. I realized very quickly and tried to look for anyone looking suspicious, in that moment I felt I would have interrogated anyone, but these people are highly trained and are excellent at what they do. The perpetrator had probably already left. Preparation is key. You need to have all of your banks lost/ stolen card numbers saved to your phone alongside any currency card providers also. Save them all, it will save you the stress of finding those numbers online and prevents the person using your cards contactless payment method in the time it takes you to get those numbers.  I knew that Madrid was notorious for pickpockets and I knew I would be targeted at some point, or someone would try something, I had all the numbers saved. I learnt not to let my guard down for one second and being inside doesn’t prevent anything. Thankfully all my banks were so helpful, they cancelled the cards immediately and I had new ones reissued to the UK. UK banks don’t send cards overseas only to your billing address so we had to arrange a secure currier to bring them to Spain. It took two weeks, thankfully a very kind friend withdrew money for me that I sent to her account. Without her I would have had to visit Santander in Spain and use my passport and passwords to withdraw cash over the desk. You often learn to accept help from friends as you will need it at a point! Making good friends, not just those you party with is a good idea as they will support you when problems arise and you can do the same for them. I would recommend you have a bank account with a bank which banks in the country you’re living in, as Santander in Spanish, I can withdraw money in euros there from the bank and the cash machines operated by Santander for free. I learnt to only take the most secure bags into the city as these people are everywhere, they blend in and you won’t be able to spot them. They’re ordinary people and don’t look suspicious, they may even dress as tourists to deceive you. Just some tips on what to look out for. Also a zip bag is the best as you can hold the zip and no one can open your bag this way. The experience was down hearting but these things happen in cities, you will meet the best and often worst of society. Despite the pickpocketing and theft, in terms of other crime Madrid is very safe. As a woman I feel safe after dark in the city and not once have I been harassed or bothered on the street. I am very happy I haven’t experienced this, as in the UK as a student and young woman, it is a big problem and I face these issues frequently. It is refreshing to not have experienced anything close to what I have in the UK in terms of harassment in clubs or bars. We need to teach better values in the UK and educate people better to improve this, I wouldn’t want anyone from Europe visiting the UK and experience harassment or even assault. 

The second incident was my friends Santander card being snatched inside a cash machine by a card scamming device. The ATM dispenses your cash but keeps your card, people often think it is the bank who have taken it so leave and ring up the next day however a scam artist waits until you leave and uses the device to withdraw you card and steal it. When this happened I had to guard the machine whilst she cancelled the card over the phone. It was stressful as many Spanish people wanted to use the machine and I had to explain to them in Spanish there was a problem and my friends card was being stolen by a device inside by a scammer who was probably waiting around the corner. We cancelled her card and a kind man came up to us and asked us what the problem was, he rang the bank as the number is Spanish and we would be charged and alerted them to the problem so they could come and assess the machine.  I definitely learnt how to act in a crisis and communicate in one also, in another language. Thankfully they understood my broken Spanish and I had to just fight my fear and speak to a lot of strangers one by one. Despite the scam, the man who helped us was so kind I have met so many people in Spain who are so kind and are willing to help non Spanish speakers who are in trouble and each other in general. It partially restored my faith in the world that this man took the time to help us.

The final incident was when my phone was pickpocketed out of my closed bag in a club a month ago. It was devastating as my phone is my life, I bank on it for everything. Currency exchange, card top ups, banking, maps, bus timetables. I struggle to function here without it. I also bought it on finance and I was close to paying it off so I was very upset all my hard earned money had gone to waste. I am now paying the final hundred pounds on a phone that is no longer in my hands. It stings to think about.When I discovered it had been stolen I was very upset, my friend left the club with me and we took the bus home. I rang my cousin who was thankfully awake at 3am to erase my phone and remove my apple pay. She saved me there. I was so anxious without my phone, my connection to home had gone and someone had stolen something from me I couldn’t afford to replace. It feels silly to say my phone is my life but abroad it is, its my financial freedom and control, my ability to travel using maps and timetables on apps and my connection to everyone in the UK. The ability to contact someone if something goes wrong had gone. I felt very vulnerable without it. The next day a kind lady, a friend from my town drove me to the police station to file a report on the theft for my insurance company, it took hours. Spanish bureaucracy is slow. I was exhausted as I had barely slept. It was probably the most testing part of my experience so far. I rang my mum on my friends phone and told her I wanted to come home, I needed to in order to get a new phone. Everything is harder to solve abroad, you have to often go to greater lengths but you become so much more resilient due to this.  It was my brothers 18th a week later so I waited until then and flew home. My Dad and brother bought me a new second hand phone like my last one, it was so kind of them but I had a lengthy insurance claim left to go through. I felt really useless, I had cost them money and it felt like my fault but it wasn’t. I now feel really nervous to return to big clubs in Madrid, especially approaching tourist season but slowly I am getting back into it, a few bars here and there and dinner. I’m sure in under a month I will be back having fun but with a careful eye out and I not let the experience effect me. I bought a zip and lock bag to wear about the waist which is so difficult to open. I am slowly adapting and I will not let these experiences put me down or make me loose confidence in a city I love. I am so thankful to all the kind people who helped me, you don’t realise how kind people are and no one will leave you to it yourself. You also learn to accept help and adapt to new environments, the good and the bad parts! I have wised up a lot.

[thewidowstanton]

Dangerous Steve, outdoor showman, comedy actor, Sideshow Illusions performer

Dangerous Steve is the stage name of Steve Collison, who was born in King’s Lynn but grew up near the Buckinghamshire village of Middle Claydon. He had the most extraordinary childhood and started living up to his name by doing dangerous things at a ridiculously young age. He was billed – by agents such as Bernard Woolley, TB Phillips and Temple’s Gala agency – as ‘the World’s Youngest Motorcycle Stunt Rider’. As well as touring internationally as Dangerous Steve, he has also worked with Magic Carpet Theatre – where he is company manager – for 30 years. And he regularly performs with Jon Marshall’s Sideshow Illusions and Dr Phantasma’s Amazing Ten in One Show.

Steve is married to fellow Sideshow Illusions performer Alexandra Collison, who was my first Widow interviewee, under her maiden name of Boanas. Alex, who is a trained soprano and has an MA in performance, often plays Yvette – the Headless Lady, Miss Elastina and No-Middle Myrtle, as well as Romana the Gypsy Queen on the Ladder of Swords. They have two children, Flossie and Winnie, who are almost destined to follow in their parents’ showbusiness footsteps. Steve chats to Liz Arratoon.

The Widow Stanton: When and how did you start stunt riding? Dangerous Steve: My dad, Peter, was the butler at Claydon House stately home in Buckinghamshire. At Christmas when I was five, Sharon, my sister, was getting lots of presents and I almost started getting a bit teary because I noticed I wasn’t getting as many. Then I was taken into the other room where there was a big present. Somewhere I’m on Cine film; there’s me unwrapping a motorbike, and apparently I just stood there shaking for ages, which was very funny. I started off just riding round the estate for a while but dad wasn’t very impressed with me just haring around on a motorbike, he wanted me to do tricks and stuff like that.

As a child, to be brought up at Claydon House… I was the only one on the estate as my sister went away to boarding school as a dancer. Sometimes I just wanted to kick a football around with my friends; on the other hand I did go around the estate thinking how lucky I was and how amazing the views over the lake were on summer evenings. We used to live in the courtyard. There was a swimming pool and stuff like that, which Sir Ralph and Lady Verney never really used, so I had my own little swimming pool. They were like my grandparents. I’d go round there on Christmas day and open presents with them.

I joined The Spirit of Britain junior motorcycle display team, which was run by a guy called Gus Scott, who used to train Eddie Kidd. I was with them from when I was five years old to seven. They were based in Luton and I toured around with them, but because I had so much space at home and they could only meet twice a week, I started practising all the tricks alone. My dad was thinking, ‘Well, he can now do all these tricks himself’, so he started taking me to do all the galas and carnivals around the country to perform on my own. Your dad sounds amazing. What sort of dad would give his kid a motorbike? Did he want to be in showbusiness himself? Yes, he did. He was very different. He managed to get an Equity card and had done some extra work and been in shows doing whatever he was asked to do. I think people are now quite interested in butlers and stately homes. My mum was very proud of me but would only watch me once I could do the tricks without falling off. I hurt myself but I never broke any bones with the motorbike. My dad was very good at starting off with quite basic things and was very strict on making sure I did things the right way. How much fun was all this for a kid? It was very exciting. I couldn’t sleep the week before a show. We’d go away in a big lorry and it was like a holiday, apart from I used to have to map-read. Some of these country fairs are in the middle of nowhere and one wrong turn, you could end up backing the lorry two miles down the road in the way of tractors… I soon got very good at map-reading because otherwise I’d get into so much trouble. I was doing tricks jumping over fire and through fire at seven or eight. Dad was very good at building props and made a tunnel of fire. Once we’d got the frame with all the fire straw in the middle of the park – we’d found a field without any sheep on it – I remember saying to him just before we lit it, ‘Dad, when we light the fire, what if I don’t want to do it?’, and he said: “You will do it. Now I’ve built it, you’ll do it.”

Once they were built, there was no going back and I’d practise and practise and practise. As I got older, people expected more from me, so the ability went up with my age; bigger jumps, bigger fire, pyrotechnics… because it was only me, whereas some of the bigger army display teams, like the White Helmets, would fill the stage. I had a load of publicity when I was awarded The Star newspaper Best in Britain award, presented by David Essex. I was sponsored by National, the petrol firm who used Smurfs to promote their brand. Sharon joined the act. Later she became a dancer and choreographer and now runs Claydons Academy, teaching dance and drama, but then she was a Smurf! Were you paid appearance fees? Yes. Once when I had a three-week tour in Scotland, the whole family came up there because it was in the summer holidays. We all stayed in a tent and it rained for most of the time. I can remember waking up one morning floating on an airbed. I didn’t realise until I put my foot outside the sleeping bag into a load of water that the whole family was floating! I’d get paid every week and we’d accumulated quite a bit of cash. The Leeds Building Society was doing deals at the gala that if you were a child you could open a bank account with £1 and you got a money box and a bag and stuff like that. Mum and dad decided the safest thing to do with the money was to go to open up an account. I was about eight. They were expecting me to give £1 and suddenly I had this wad of cash. They must have wondered where I’d got it from and just thought I’d stolen it or found it.

Did you ever go to school? I did. The school was very good and if ever there was a school fete or anything like that they’d always ask me to do my motorcycle stunt show. I was filmed on my motorbike for children’s TV with Anneka Rice, who once came to school. We had a mock school fete and she was lying down and I ended up jumping over her. What happened next? The motorbike act stopped when public liability insurance started getting really expensive. I was about 14. Then my dad and I toured the Crazy Brigade – a comedy fire brigade, very much Keystone Cops, very visual – round country shows and big galas. It was a comedy car act that drove on its own and fell apart, but it was more like a stunt comedy act. There was a lot of water! My dad built a human cannon and we thought, ‘Oh, we need an act for it’, especially when he’d taken a picture of it and sold it. We had ten shows booked in before we even had an act.

I used to worry; we had a prop, a comedy cannon, but no show. It blew up at the end and I went flying out of the end of it but not a great distance. I never got to the net on the other side of the arena. But we did it in the end and it was very successful. I knew Martin Burton of Zippos Circus from the galas and carnivals, rather than as a circus contact. When I was 15, in my last year at school, he kindly said I could do work experience on their theatre tour. Other people worked in the local bakery. I went to Wales and Carlisle and never went back to school.

What does Dangerous Steve actually do? It kind of depends where I’m booked to do it. If it’s in the middle of a town centre early on a Saturday morning with a few people walking past with shopping bags, the last thing they want to do is get stopped to watch a show by some nutter in the street. I try to make my show very entertaining and try to be likeable on stage. If it’s indoors and the audience is put there for me, it’s the same show but I have to work in a different way. I do ten things; I start on my motorcycle monowheel. It builds up a big crowd straightaway. I sit inside the wheel – the engine is inside it – and it’s a very difficult bike to balance and ride. I’ve spent the last three years learning how to do a new trick on it; a double loop the loop.

I then go on to my motorcycle sidecar, which I ride round, introduce myself, and then stand on top of the seat and juggle knives. Then I do some fire. With outdoor shows I try to make it really very appealing at the start to distract people from the funfair and the stalls by doing fire tricks and some big fireballs with fire whips and things like that…

Fire whips? Yes, they create a massive fireball. I go from there to the unsupported ladder, so I’m up high, talking to people telling them what they’re about to see, and if they don’t want to see it now’s the time to leave! I’m very proud of balancing on top of a ten-foot ladder. It’s scary, as I don’t like heights! Then I then do a giant rola-bola, so I’m on a tower, on top of a beer keg on its side and on top of a board, and then I go through a fire hoop. Then I juggle a chainsaw, and do my giant unicycle, which is bigger this year, a ten-foot unicycle, and then into a blindfold motorcycle stunt. I set two chainsaws going – possibly four this year – on a frame, and I ride round blindfolded and through the frame with a steel shield on my face and a hood over my head, which I get the audience to check. And, you know, hopefully I don’t cut my head off.

Has anything ever gone wrong? When I was learning, I broke my arm just before doing a show in a school hall. I thought, ‘That really hurt, I think I’ve damaged my arm’. In the first part of show I had to play the drums. Oh, my goodness, every time I hit the drums it was excruciating. 15 years later I finally learnt to do the trick I was trying when I broke my arm! I did a show in Scotland last year and before I went on, they announced that they were having a dog show and they’d put a big marquee in the corner of the arena, which made it quite narrow. I was driving my monowheel but I tipped over too far and the foot peg stuck into the ground and I went right over doing a somersault in the wheel, I flew out of it, got back on it, and carried on and the crowd loved it! [Laughs]

Then I got on my sidecar to juggle the knives and I went over a bump and one of the knives went into my face. I had blood running down my face. I looked at the organisers who were looking at me, like, ‘What have we booked, some cowboy?’, but actually, afterwards they loved it and they want me back. [Laughs] So it pays to hurt yourself sometimes.  

How did you learn all your other skills? Because I’ve been involved in so many shows over the years, I kind of picked up all these skills individually. It was a bit of watching others and trial and error. My show is very different to anyone else’s on the outdoor circuit. I don’t know anyone else who does some of the tricks, but I’ve seen someone else doing others and I’ve thought, ‘Oh, that would be perfect for my show’.

Do you have a natural ability to pick things up? Probably not. It’s practice, and a lot of the things I’ve learnt to do, I was a teenager. If you’re a teenager you don’t mind falling off so much. It doesn’t hurt so much. I must admit some of the time now, when I’m trying new stuff out, I do think, ‘Am I a bit old for this?’.

I believe there’s one motorbike stunt that I’ve done that you haven’t… [Laughs] Yes, yes. The Wall of Death! It’s a dream and an ambition one day to do it.

It was horrific but you would love it! I’m going to contact Jake Messham and try to arrange it. I should do it September because it’s always a little bit dangerous trying new tricks out just before you get really busy for the summer season.

And the Globe of Death, do you fancy that? I would love to try. I’d try anything really.

How do you divide your time? We’re trying to stay busy all year round and it is really busy. The summer is now crazy with Dangerous Steve, so every weekend and Bank Holiday and there seem to be a lot of agricultural shows in the week as well. Last August I went from Orkney to Guernsey, doing shows on the way down as well. Summer season now… outdoor shows seem to be really good, really healthy and a full season of shows, like the olden days, really. When that quietens off in September, we go into Magic Carpet theatre shows and December, we’re sold out in schools performing a theatre show.

How did you come to join Magic Carpet so young? After Zippos the school let me go off on more work experience with Jon Marshall, who I’d worked with in the galas and carnivals when he was The Man with the X-ray Eyes. Magic Carpet is his children’s theatre company that tours schools, art centres and theatres up and down the country and occasionally we get to go abroad. The shows are very visual, good fun and exciting. It’s a comedy play. We don’t have any big message; it’s just a great way to introduce children to live theatre. They laugh all the way through and if they haven’t seen much before, they come out absolutely buzzing. Jon is very good at making it exciting and understandable. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster with highs, but we also bring them down again. We know when the dangerous bits are coming up where the kids might shout out, but no one needs to be on edge as we’ve got them under control.

Do you feel you sort of owe your career to your dad, really? Yes, very much so, dad and Jon. All through my childhood I had so much respect for my dad and so much help, hours and hours of dragging me round the country, which I enjoyed. I enjoyed where I lived at the stately home, and also the travelling around at the same time. He would be working after I’d gone to bed out in the workshop, building props for me and I’d be practising with them after school the next day, probably falling off, breaking it, and he’d be back in the workshop again mending it and telling me not to fall off again.

Do you think your experience could happen to a child these days because of health and safety… It would be very difficult. Even now with Flossie, if she falls over, the first thing that goes through your mind when she goes to pre-school, they’re going to see a bruise and it’s going to have to go in a report and they ask how it happened. They also ask the child as well to see if the stories match, whereas when I was a child and did The Spirit of Britain, I remember we were doing some practising and I set off the wrong way round the arena, ending up colliding with another bike, fell off, the foot peg went into my foot, I ended up in hospital, and then a couple of days later it was all forgotten. I wouldn’t want Flossie to hurt herself and there are ways of learning tricks with protection, but I wouldn’t put her off doing what I did. I try not to be too pushy with her because I think slow and steady will win the race.

Not like yer dad then? [Laughs] [Laughs] To be honest she’s only four, a little bit younger than I was when I started. But she is very keen on running onstage at the end of the show and she likes to go in the blade box, with blades in it. I’ve got a motorbike and sidecar and last year in Poynton, near Manchester, she sat on the sidecar.

Did you ever imagine that this would be your life? No, but later on in school everyone was talking about what they were going to do as a career, and I did think, ‘What the hell am I going to do?’. Then I thought, ‘Well, actually, I quite like what I do now. At the age of 15 I’ve already got quite a few years’ experience behind me. I’ve learnt how to do things and how not to do things’. So it would have been a waste not to carry on, and I’m so glad I stuck at it. When you’re a teenager sometimes the grass is always greener on the other side. When I was getting towards 19, some of my mates were earning quite good money doing other things, and I was thinking, ‘Oh, should I change what I do?’, but obviously I’m so glad I didn’t. I love it more now than ever.

Dangerous Steve will be appearing at Kimpton in Hertfordshire on 4 May, 2019 at the start of his summer season. Check his website for details.

Picture credit: Ian Spooner

Steve’s website

Twitter: @DangerousSteve1 @sideshowmagic

Follow @TheWidowStanton on Twitter

[elevenhoursinfront-blog]

February 22nd 2017

I woke up at 0730. I fell back to sleep after about 10 minutes. It's horrible when 8 alarms go off at different times in the same room. Steve didn’t wake up at all. He turned his alarm off and went back to sleep. He fell over at football yesterday, he did this back roll on the floor and twisted his ankle. He said his ankle is hurting him a fair bit, that it’s swollen. He can’t put much weight onto it. Limp, limp. Not gym for Steve…

We eventually got up at 0930/1000. We had to say goodbye to Joe. His name is Joha but Joe is fine. I gave him a cuddle and he said he would message if he needs the boys for football again. Steve whispered “not this week”. Too much for him and his old age, me thinks. Max was checking out too and the Chinese girls left before I woke up. 4 new roommates to welcome. How exciting. The Chinese didn’t take their sheets down. Not sure if they understood or not. It was a good job Max was leaving. Yesterday, he asked Josh why he fell out with his old roommates. Josh stated he was too right winged. Max replied with, “So, you’re racist?”. I just sat on my bed thinking ‘here we go again’. Max understood from both points of view which was better than the last argument. Max is from Germany so talking about Brexit was awkward. To top this heated discussion off, Max tried to change the subject. He asked Josh and Steve who they supported, to which they both replied “Liverpool, you?” (I know, they can’t help it). Max replied with “Manchester United”. BRILLIANT. ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT. Let’s start again shall we - lets continue this heated discussion and turn to football. To which it did. But not as heated.

Anyway, back to 4 empty beds. Josh forgot to extend his stay for another week or two so he ran down to reception to do so. Too late, they already sold his bed… This meant, tomorrow morning, we would be saying goodbye to our last and only friend. Fantastic. He can get a space back in Mad Monkey on Monday but I’m not sure he’s going too. Settling into a new place is rubbish and having to live out of backpacks is rubbish, too. He’s better off booking for a week or so. He will struggle badly to find any space on a weekend. Hostels sell out SO fast. We ate breakfast and came back to the room. Steve had his interview at 1145 and had to leave for 1130. I got his clothes out for him whilst he was in the shower. Steve left and I sat on the bed doing absolutely nothing until two new roommates entered. Two girls. They look kind of normal, here goes… Not sure of their names, but they’re from Germany. Only here for the one night. When will I make friends that aren’t male?! They moaned about how cold it was and tried fiddling with the aircon. I was getting fairly annoyed. Do not touch. It broke not long ago and we couldn’t sleep. I don’t care that we are all dying from hypothermia. At least we can sleep. Steve walked in after 25 minutes… He got into the agency! Hooray! This means he could have work by tomorrow morning. If they don’t contact him tonight, he will be starting on Monday morning. How exciting! Not for Steve though. We had to leave and go buy PPE. We went to Town Hall (Westfield) to find clothing. The first shop we went into was selling PPE fairly cheap from what we’d seen elsewhere. Steve spent a good 45 minutes trying bits on. I wouldn’t mind but he was to wear either a florescent orange or yellow… In and out of the changing room - blue shorts, black shorts, beige shorts, yellow top, orange top, with a collar, without a collar, what colour socks… “What goes best?”. It doesn’t matter Steve, you still look like a tit! Mind you, literally every male backpacker is in construction here and a good 50% of the male Australian population. The florescent uniform is EVERYWHERE. I found some cheap steel-toe cap boots for $70. The rest were roughly $200 so I was pretty pleased with myself. Of course, Steve didn’t like them. After a short moan about money, he tried them on and bought them. Hard hat, gloves and ear plugs were left to get. Unfortunately, that store didn’t sell them. The place Steve had his interview did so we went back home to Kings Cross to buy them. They gave the earplugs for free so I might have took a fair few for myself. I thoroughly enjoy sleeping with them in now. Altogether, his PPE came to $185. Expensive, I know. I’m sure he can get that back with his tax refund at the end of the year though. I’ve kept his receipts in case. I also bought 2 new folders today, one each. This way we could take our own stuff to interviews and jobs. We still have one big folder with the most important stuff in that will stay in the lockers - passports, travel insurance, visa and photocopies. We have a lot more paperwork now so it was getting too big for one folder. We now have our Tax File Number letters, Medicare card letters, bank letters, RSA letter, white card letters, certificates etc… I’m so organised. I’ve even put a photocopy of our passports in our individual folders so we don’t have to take them out. It was 1700 by the time we got back. I sorted out our washing and put that on. I also sorted out the lockers and drawers. I folded all my clothes and put them away. The wash takes 37 minutes. I’ll remember it this time, I think. I then realised we needed a food shop. Steve was absolutely starving, in fact, he was fading away… We left to go Coles without thinking that it was slightly more expensive than Woolworths. Coles is much closer though and I couldn’t have Steve’s stomach thinking his throats been cut any longer. Hangry was an understatement. We got 1kg of beef mince for $7 which isn’t too bad, turkey mince, salad, sweetcorn, onions and gherkins. Gherkins are a personal fav of mine.   I was doing spag bol with salad tonight which is what we had left in the fridge. Steve was finally eating for the first time in his life by 1800. He managed to go the extra two hours without eating even though he swore he was going to die. What a hero! I started the cooking whilst Steve got the washing out and put it on the bed to dry. We was going to play a game of scrabble at the dinner table but we didn’t want to embarrass ourselves with words like “Nan”, so we decided against it. Steve’s phone rang - work tomorrow! Bondi Junction 0700 start. Brilliant news. Not for him, as he keeps on reminding me. I am so proud of him! We made Steve’s work lunch after dinner. We bought some tupperware so he could take cooked food and fruit. This is me hoping he doesn’t buy fatty foods on the go… I also made him a list of stuff that he needed for work and what he needed to do before leaving. Getting his food from the kitchen, filling his water bottle up, PPE, time sheet, folder, Opal card etc… Steve would be lost without me, I’m sure. I also received a call for an interview tomorrow in Woolloomooloo. I dare you to try and pronounce it! It’s for a waitress in a Bistro. The guy was meant to text me the address but he hasn’t done. I text to ask for it but I’ve received no reply. I’ll ring him tomorrow morning as my interview is meant to be at 1100. It’s about 3 minutes away from Kings Cross which is good. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about Australian’s is, if it can be done tomorrow, it will be. There’s no rushing them. It’s all calm.

Two new roommates stuff appeared after dinner. They must’ve been out because they weren’t in. The room was now a complete and utter mess. A bomb had hit it. It was like Steve’s bedroom on a good day. The German girls had their stuff everywhere. Bags, clothes, shoes, a packet of serviettes wrapped in tin foil… I’m not sure, so don’t ask me. There is a rule here that you cannot have food and drink in the rooms. I don’t particularly agree with this rule as my room and bed is the only “personal” space I get. Therefore, I would like to eat and drink as I please… Food and drink get stolen so easily so I would rather it be in my room. Of course, things that need to be in the fridge stay in our food cooler bag. When I went down to reception to change our sheets, I noticed a drawer of foods and drinks. The more I looked, the more I recognised it. Turns out, they took all our food and drink from the room and confiscated it. The food and drink was hidden in our drawers under my bed so it annoyed me that they went through our stuff… We could have it back but it had to remain downstairs. Anyone could’ve said it was there’s though and took it. Good job I went down when I did. I put them all into plastic bag and found cupboard space. Steve and I then became 007 and 008 mission 'Try and Retrieve Stolen Goods and Take Them Upstairs’. I shoved all the important stuff (Tim Tams, Dairy Milks, Malteasers) into my handbag. I carried my purse and phone separately to make more space. We went down later on with the backpack for the Pepsi Max and rice cakes. Mission accomplished. Goodies put away in our lockers so nobody can find them.

Steve’s bag is packed and he is ready to go tomorrow morning. I made him cut his toenails too so his feet won’t get sore in his new boots. He struggles to remember simple things like that. His alarm will be on for 0500. He will climb into my bed when he wakes up and wake me up again to say goodbye. He always does. He’s a wet blanket at heart, a right softy.

Currently 2115 and Steve needs to get to sleep. German girls messing about with all their stuff. I think they’re going out. Josh has fallen asleep side ways in his bed and Johnny has just walked in. Still not met our newest roomies. The light is still on and the shower is running. Good luck with that Steve.

[gaiatheorist]

PIP v2020.

Well, that was awful. Not the consultation/assessment bit, although I did forget to ask him if that was for the ‘review’ or ‘advanced’ applications, I suppose I’ll find out if another face-to-face appointment letter comes out in the post. I’m pulling faces at myself, there’s a sheet of paper in the back pocket of my jeans, with a series of inter-connected lines, numbered at junctions, and then a key-style list of which direction in capital letters, and the name of the next street to take. That map would have been more use to me than the one included with the appointment letter, which was accurate, but very much zoomed-in around the assessment centre, so nobody that I asked for help could tell me where I was, or which direction I should be walking in. I have been to that town before, but only to the High Street in the ex’s car, and a meeting I attended for work, probably 5 years ago, and work booked me a taxi to get there.

I photocopied the most recent appointment letter, did my usual ‘bizarre and over-compensating preparation’ being me is like having a constant three-way argument with myself. Is my phone fully charged/have I put the postcode into Google Maps on my phone/do I have the phone number written in at least two different places, in case I lose one/do I have a copy of the appointment letter in my coat, in case I’m mugged, and my bag is stolen/do I have an emergency £10 note in the back pocket of my jeans, in case I need to phone a taxi/is this the best coat for purpose/pen, spare pen, spare-spare-pen/do I take my scruffy phone-notepad, or the ‘medical’ one/is that the best bus, or should I catch an earlier one, and risk standing outside in the cold for an hour/bottle of water, bottle of full-fat Coke, two snickers bars, emergency painkillers/take that folder as well, just in case. It’s exhausting, I’m generally knackered before I leave the house if I’m going somewhere ‘new.’

Hindsight is a twat. In the two HOURS I was in the bus station, waiting for the-same-bus-I-arrived-on I found the street I should have taken first, except it’s not really a street, it’s more of an alley/snicket, and, yes, of course it led off in the opposite direction to the only proper street I could see from the unfamiliar bus-station. I’ve mentioned before that I almost-always walk the wrong way from unfamiliar bus or train stations. I had tried to cut the risk of that happening, by printing multiple different maps, and then drawing-out, and memorising the ‘shape’ I’d need to walk in- left, left again, right along a longer stretch of road, short-right, short-left, and you have reached your destination. (Now chuckling at myself at the notion of me being twat-nav.) 

A new ‘reasonable adjustment’ I’ve worked out in terms of asking people for directions is to ask them to physically point which way I need to walk to my next junction, because my head simply will not hold a verbal ‘Left here, then your next right, follow that road until you pass the church...’ I’m smirking about an old comedy sketch, it might have been a Newman and Baddeil one, suggesting that NOBODY ever managed to retail verbal directions. “Right here, then right again, until you come to the blah-blah-blah, your Mum’s a slag.” I know I have a tendency to say ‘left’ when I mean ‘right’, which gave rise to the ‘other left’, then ‘duck-left’, and finally ‘Mork’ or ‘Mindy’. (The ex had two dogs, Mork, and Mindy, Mindy always sat on the left-hand seat in the back of his car, and Mork always sat on the right, I was actually a fairly decent navigator once we worked that system out.) The road I was on didn’t ‘feel’ like the shape of the map I’d drawn, I should have been on the longest stretch of road, but I was at a very short strip of road, with a three-way junction that I didn’t remember seeing in the maps. 

Rules- I won’t stop old ladies, single women, or women with children, I will actually cross the road if there’s a single woman ahead of me, I’m tall for a female, and usually in walking boots or trainers, I don’t make much noise, I know how I’d feel if someone I hadn’t noticed was there suddenly overtook me on the pavement, so I try not to do it to other people. (Now chuckling at an out-lesbian colleague calling out ‘We need a man!’, in response to yet another student having been kicked in the balls, we didn’t know how much pain would be considered normal for that, so we needed a male first-aider.)  I needed a man, but not a very old man, because he might think I was going to mug him, and not a young man, because he might mug me. Standing on a street corner, looking for a man. A man approached, I walked up to him, apologised for intruding, and asked ‘Which direction should I be walking to get to {street name{?’ The ‘erm, uhm, erm, I think it’s that way?’ was massively uncertain, but I had no idea at all where I was. I walked ‘that’ way. I walked all the way out of the town I was supposed to be in, and into the next village. I tried to use Google Maps, to see if I was heading in the right direction, no signal. I was rapidly approaching the time of my appointment, and starting to panic. I looked at the sheet with the directions and phone number, thinking I might be able to phone for directions. No dice, the contact number was for the DWP call-centre, not the clinic itself. Really, really panicking now. Then I looked at Google Maps again, and my phone black-screened and went dead. 

There’s a massive issue in me, when it comes to ‘asking for help’, I’m nowhere near as bad as I used to be, when I just-wouldn’t, but there’s some sort of point-of-convergence with the C-PTSD, the ASD, and the Brain Injuries, and I feel the need to ‘script’ the request, so I’m not relinquishing all control. All the ‘rules’ I was taught as a child, and a teenager, when there weren’t any mobile phones bubbled up in my head. You find a shop, with people already in it, to act as witnesses, if you’re found in a ditch 10 miles away, with your knickers inside-out, or worse. Small parade of shops, most of which had those painted windows you can’t see in through, and a pharmacy, that I could see in through, two customers, and more than one member of staff. Their clock said it was half past ten, which was the time of my appointment. If you fail to turn up, or phone to explain your delay, DWP/PIP stop your application. I was already in full panic-mode, on the verge of tears, and probably looked like I already had been found in a ditch. 

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m late for an appointment. I’m lost. Can I use your phone to tell them I’m running late, and can you phone me a taxi, please?” That sounds perfectly normal, reading it back, but there were punctuations of  massive sobs, and snot-bubbles. I had, at that point ‘lost it’, and my C-PTSD and ASD brain telling me this was a perfectly reasonable plan, but the woman behind the counter, presented with a sweaty, dishevelled ginger she-beast flapping a map, didn’t know what to do with me. (Most People Don’t.)

“I don’t know if I can help, I don’t know where that is, and I don’t know any taxi numbers.” I genuinely don’t know how I managed not to faint, with all the cogs in my head whirring so fast. I knew some taxi numbers myself, but they were my ‘local’ firms, I was in a different postcode and dialling code.

“Please, just phone me a taxi? I don’t know where I am, and I’m already late.”

The customer who had been at the counter before me collected his bag of medication, turned to me, and asked “Where do you need to be?” I told him the street name, he shook his head, and said he didn’t know it, at that point, I didn’t know if he was a rapist, an axe-murderer, or a Daily Mail reader, who would use my precious minutes explaining something completely irrelevant. “I’ll take you there.”, again, I’m out at the back of beyond, completely lost, and snot-sobbing that if I don’t turn up, DWP would end my claim. I showed him the map, and he called over to another member of staff, “How far are we from {street}?”

“It’s only a couple of miles, you could be there in a few minutes.”

“I’ll take you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, I’ll phone a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you, it’s not far.”

“I can’t ask...”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

I climbed into a car with a complete stranger, who had already said he didn’t know where the street was.

I cried all the way there, he asked a pedestrian for directions, and I realised that I could have been at the clinic in five minutes, if I hadn’t walked the wrong way out of the bus station. I thanked him profusely, apologised for inconveniencing him, and wished him a happy new year. The clock in his car had read 10.34, I was late. I fully expected the door to be locked when I tried the handle. It wasn’t, so two waiting rooms full of strangers saw a red-faced, sweaty, snotty, bedraggled thing looking for reception. 

I apologised profusely to the young man on the reception desk, explaining that I had gotten myself very badly lost, and was REALLY sorry I was late. He asked if I was there for PIP, or physiotherapy, PIP assessors often rent rooms in other medical facilities, but they don’t have access to NHS records or systems, and it’s luck of the draw whether you get a nurse, a chiropodist, or a physiotherapist doing your assessment. I handed him my appointment letter, and fumbled my provisional driving licence out of my wallet. “Here’s one form of ID, with a photo, would you like my bank card as the second, or I have my birth certificate and marriage certificate, and some utility bills in my bag?” “No, it’s fine, this is enough.” The anxiety-paranoia kicked in, that the letter stated TWO forms of ID, and they were playing tricks to have my application declined. (I’ve just remembered that the assessor did ask me a couple of questions about ‘moving around’, but none of the ‘planning a journey’ questions. I can only hope that’s because I’d already babbled at him that I’d gotten myself lost.)

Andy was my assessor, dark hair, right-hand-side parting, short, dark beard and moustache, probably the same height as me, stocky, but not overweight. Red shirt with no tie, tucked into charcoal-coloured jeans, with black sturdy boots. He might as well have told me I’d won the lottery, when he told me he was a mental health worker. He’ll know the state of NHS MH provision, and that the level of intervention I’ve had, and am still having doesn’t come as a free gift in a cereal box. I was a panicky mess, and knew I needed to settle myself down before I started answering questions. Catch-22, there, I was obviously in some sort of ‘overwhelming emotion’, which is one of the categories on the planning/making a journey section, but, if I allowed the panic to continue, I wouldn’t be able to answer his questions. Over the years, I’ve worked out a weird system, to give me a feeling of control, when I’m close to losing it. It’s very basic, but it usually works. I had lost control by getting lost, and then relinquished control, by getting into a stranger’s car, I had to control ‘something’, to reduce the panic. “Look, I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m really anxious and panicky right now, I’m going to do a bit of a routine-thing getting things out of my bag, if that’s  OK?”

“That’s fine, take as long as you need.”

“OK, this is  my medical folder, with the index-sheet in case I need to make a reference to anything.”

“Yes, that was good, because you have a lot of evidence in there.”

“There’s more than the 35 pages I sent in, I just tried to pick the most relevant.”

“Yes, I did read through them, you have a lot going on.”

“I do, (Psychiatrist) referred to it as a ‘Complex Presentation’. I’m going to keep this notebook open, in case I think of anything I need to say, and don’t want to interrupt you?”

“You can interrupt me, it’s fine, really.”

“Right, I think I’m ready now, thank you for your patience.”

I was in there over an hour, he was calm, and patient, and generally quite personable, but then again, I’d thought the same about the last two assessors. He might have been lying about his wife having Raynauds, and his son having ASD, or not being sure whether his daughter did, too, because females are more likely to mask than males. He showed me his Carpal Tunnel surgery scars, when I’d described the damage to my left wrist as ‘Like CTS.’. He didn’t do any of the cognitive assessments, I’m hoping he’s gathered enough from the Neuro-psych report. He didn’t ask any of the journey-planning questions, again, I’m hoping he makes reference to my somewhat traumatic journey there. Thankfully, he didn’t do the ‘stand on one leg’ part of the physical assessment, he did do the arms-out/arms up, the touch-thumb-to-all-fingers, the pull-against-my-fingers, the bend-at-the-waist, (the gym is paying off, I almost touched my boots.) the sit-on-the-bed-and-push-this-way-or-that. I did get a chuckle out of him when he asked me to sit on the bed, and I quipped “Tell me about your father.”, and then another, when he told me that the assessment was complete, and asked me if I had any questions. “Do I get a sticker, or a lolly, for being brave?”

His report now goes to a ‘Decision Maker’, we’d already discussed how odd it was that the Decision Makers aren’t medically trained, it’s like calling a plumber to look at your electricity problem. He told me that he had no influence over the decision, but that’s half a lie, the assessors do make a recommendation, and if his was ‘computer says no’, the Decision Maker won’t even look at my file, they’ll just decline it. “I’m fully expecting it to be declined, and have to go to Mandatory Reconsideration. I’ll ask my Mum to help me if that happens, she’s a retired Adult Social Worker, and she’ll know the process.” It’s SUCH a waste of money, dragging some of the most vulnerable people through an administrative nightmare, and then to court, to prove we need support. I shook his hand, and left. The walk back to the bus station probably took all of four minutes.

The bus station was another issue altogether. The big digital clock on the wall said I’d arrived at 11.57, and the display at the side of it said that the bus I needed was due at 12.15, so I didn’t bother sitting down on the hard metal seats, because I knew I’d struggle to get back up. The 12.15 bus turned up, didn’t let any passengers on board, and drove off. For no reason I can fathom, I decided to wait outside for the 12.45 bus, rather than take up a seat inside, that an elderly, or disabled person might need. The digital clock said 12.38 when I came back inside, because I was cold. The 12.45 bus didn’t turn up, or the 13.15. I asked the lad on the service desk if there was a problem with the route, he said there wasn’t, and that there should be a bus every half-hour. I explained I’d been waiting well over an hour, and there hadn’t been one. A bus-driver passing through the station on his lunch break, with a very loud voice, told me I could catch a different bus, get off four villages from home, and catch another bus the rest of the way. I thanked him, and weighed up whether I’d have enough physical and cognitive energy to take another ‘unfamiliar’ bus, given that I’d already gotten myself lost once, and had a massive appointment. I decided not, and sort of zoned-out. It was the movement of people around me that ‘woke me up’, I wasn’t fully asleep, but I wasn’t altogether ‘there’, either. The bus with the loud-voice driver had pulled up in the parking-bay, while he took his lunch break. When people started milling about, and woke me up, it had gone. I thought a lot of words that we shouldn’t say in front of Grandma. 

The loud-voice driver had just driven out of the parking bay, and around the roundabout, to pull up at the alighting bus-stop. I could have cried with joy. 

“Didn’t it turn up?” the driver asked as I boarded.

“No, I’d been in the bus station since just before 12, you’re the first bus since 12.15, and he didn’t let any passengers on.”

“You’d have been home by now, if you’d gone the way I told you.”

“I know, I’d already been lost once, and then had a horrible medical thing. I decided it was best to go home the same way I came, ‘familiarity’ helps me.”

I managed to make it home without falling asleep, but I’ve caught up since then, lapsing in and out of sleep Saturday, and most of Sunday. I need to pull my finger out, because I’m behind on my OU course, after spending a large chunk of November and December filling in the PIP forms. All I can do now is wait for the Decision Maker’s letter. I want to have faith that Andy will have done the right thing, I really do, two different strangers tried to help me on Saturday, but they weren’t employed by ‘Independent Assessment Services’, which is ATOS, possibly Capita too, after all the furore in the press about the shoddy service the contracted-out assessors were giving. Updates may follow.