Strange Taste, Pt 15 - Kaltman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Featured Review on this writing by Craig Davison

The nearest telephone box was ten minutes-walk away in Farndon Close. Alyn wasn’t at all surprised to discover that it had been vandalized.

The nearest telephone box was ten minutes-walk away in Farndon Close. Alyn wasn’t at all surprised to discover that it had been vandalized. Telephone boxes were always being smashed up on the Ifield council estate. The next kiosk was in Trenton Road, by the local shopping parade, a further ten-minute walk. Fifteen minutes later, he slotted one of the new decimal coins into the coin slot and was put through to the airport grill.

He was relieved when the call was answered by Katie Kaltman, the German floorwalker, whose job it was to greet diners, show them to their tables, and present the menu, ensuring they were comfortable. Katie was tall, elegant and refined with remarkably high Slavic cheeks, kissable pursed lips, fine auburn hair (which hung in ringlets), and ink-blue eyes.

The married woman had seduced Alyn in the Chef’s Office, unbuttoning her smart black blouse to reveal her pert breasts, forcing him to suck on her rosy nipples while she guided him under her skirt, slid him up her slender stockinged thigh, and eased him underneath the gusset of her lacy knickers. His coming-of-age moment endeared him to her; they’d remained close ever since. She spoke eloquently, in a crisp, stilted voice,

‘Hallo, Air Grill, how may I help you?’

‘Katie, it’s Alyn.’

She brightened for him, ‘Ah, Alyn, how lovely to hear from you. Will I feel you later?’

Lies came easily to the weekend waiter, ‘I’m really sorry, I can’t come in to work today.’

Katie dropped the bonhomie, ‘Ach, is that so? What is it this time? Headache? Overslept?’

‘I’ve been up sick all night with vomiting and diarrhoea. I’m so sorry.’

The floorwalker checked her gold wristwatch, ‘Alyn, the time is two o’clock. Your shift starts at three o’clock. Why have you left it so late to call me? Your unfortunate,’ she was stammering, ‘illness causes me great difficulty today. You know, I have delayed flight in little under two hours for two hundred passengers.’

Alyn cringed with guilt over his latest deception. First, the desecration of Lindsey. Now this. His time was nearly up. He thought of the chaos his absence would create. The Grill seated 256 customers: 128 in black leather booths, 128 on round tables of four. Eight staff were needed to service four tables with four customers on each. Delayed flight passengers were invariably rude, stroppy and unappreciative. They complained about the menu: boil-in-the-bag chicken in mushroom sauce, peas and chips, followed by vanilla briquette. And they never tipped. Thanks to him, Katie would have to serve. The phone made a bleeping noise. He didn’t have any more change. He bleated, like one of Georgie’s father’s sheep,

‘I’m really sorry.’

Katie lost her cool, ‘Alyn!’

‘Yeah?’

‘Janis called in sick, also. Lindsey is in hospital.’

Alyn’s heart fell into his stomach. The line went dead. He thought of the sachets of fungi lying in the fridge’s tiny freezer compartment at home. 


Submitted: January 09, 2021

© Copyright 2021 HJFURL. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Craig Davison

It's certainly coming along. Another great chapter HJ. All the best, Craig.

Sun, January 10th, 2021 7:15am

Author
Reply

Thank you so much, Craig, next instalment imminent!

Sun, January 10th, 2021 12:30pm

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