‘Yorkshire’s Supreme Champion’ by Barbara Burgess
Felicity filled in all the boxes.
Name - Susan
Hobbies/Interests - picnics by the river.
Seeking - male.
Age - 30 to 60
She tapped the pay button, then watched her email list, and sipped her coffee.
“That was quick,” she said. As five emails entered her spam folder. She transferred them to the inbox.
Dennis was the best-looking. Blonde, neat short hairstyle. Typical office worker. She checked his profile. Likes nature and music. She can give or take nature but hates music, especially that loud, boom , boom stuff her neighbour plays until way past midnight.
She replies on the dating site app and suggests they meet up for a picnic at a local, secluded beauty spot. She added the word secluded to entice him in.
He took the bait.
His reply - “Can’t wait.”
Neither could she. It had been a long time—two years to the day, when she checked her diary.
She picked Dennis up from the station. She suggested that because it would be easier using her own car this time. Then drove the five miles to the bend in the river where the stepping stones and small waterfalls were. The river took up speed there and rippled away while the fish swam in the rock pools. It wasn’t a place fishermen frequented, and too far down the dirt track for most people, apart from the occasional escort the local sex workers called themselves.
She parked behind the bushes away from all the condoms, needles, sex and drug litter.
“I love this spot,” she said, “it’s always so quiet, and I rarely get interrupted.” She didn’t want to use the word - interrupted; it just slipped out.
Dennis pulled the blanket from the boot; he hadn’t said much on the whole of the journey, just spoke about the weather and trains in general, but that didn’t bother Felicity. There’d be plenty of time to talk while they drank the champagne and ate the salmon sandwiches she prepared. He then went back for the carrier bags, while she carried the hamper. It wasn’t heavy.
“I…” said Dennis just as Felicity began asking him if he wanted the drinks or sandwiches first.
“No, go on.” Said Felicity.
“I work in a bank. Extremely boring. Not at the cash desk, in the office. Right at the top of the building. No windows. Would you believe it?”
“How awful,” said Felicity and ticked a box in her head that said, office worker, got that right.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a nurse.” She enjoyed lying. So many blokes had been taken in by her lies. ‘Well, not really, but that’s what I tell everyone. It sounds good, like I’m compassionate. I’m a care worker for the council. Actually, I’m not even that, just a glorified cleaner, really, and cook and bottle washer.” Felicity shrugged. He nodded.
“Another boring job, then?” Dennis said.
“Totally,” said Felicity as she looked at the ground and pulled a piece of grass out from its roots and fiddled with it. Still, she was grateful that the job had given her an extensive knowledge of drugs and access to them when she was on duty. All she needed now was the right moment, and she couldn’t wait for that to arrive. She still had to be cautious, though. Past experiences had taught her that. “Shall we have the champagne first or the salmon sandwiches?”
“Champagne, of course.” Said Dennis, though you never mentioned such a luxury in your messages. “And, sorry but I’m allergic to fish of any kind. I thought it was in my profile and that you might have seen it.”
It was, and she had, and that’s why she had made the salmon sandwiches, just in case the other option never got off the ground. “Sorry, no, I don’t think I saw it at all. Luckily I’m not allergic to anything.”
Dennis had found that rather annoying when he read her profile, as that was one of his possibilities gone out the window.
“Champagne it is then,” said Felicity, and she took the two individual serving bottles from the hamper and tucked the syringe under her skirt.
“I need a pee,” said Dennis, and hurried off to the bushes a few meters away.
“Perfect,” Felicity thought to herself. “Things couldn’t have worked out better if I’d tried.” She emptied some of the contents of the syringe into one plastic flute and stopped when she heard Dennis returning. “Need to concentrate better,” she thought to herself.
“Cheers,” said Dennis and lifted the plastic flute to his mouth and took a few sips.
Felicity tried to think of something to talk about but couldn’t, and so she looked around pretending to enjoy the scenery, which she wasn’t. Dry grass and noisy waterfalls were not her scene at all.
Dennis began to sway.
“Are you all right?’
“Not really. I feel a bit peculiar.”
Felicity stood up, walked over and supported him as he began to lurch backward. “You’re all right.” She said, as she hooked her hands under his armpits and dragged him toward the river. He was much heavier than he looked but did not put up any resistance. He just kept groaning.
At the river, she pulled him down the slope until his head entered the water and she held it there, not with too much force; she didn’t want any bruising to show up later.
“There you are, little fishes. Dinner time,” she said.
The cold water hit Dennis right in the face, and he tried to open his eyes. Instantly he realised what was happening. He thrashed out and managed to grab something or someone. Then his strong abdominals, gained from years of training as a triathlete, came into play, and he managed to sit up. It was no different from doing two hundred sit-ups in practice. His forehead struck her forehead, and she went down. He grabbed her, pulled her into the river and held her under. He was not Yorkshire’s Supreme Champion for nothing.
Barbara Burgess wrote this story in response to the prompt Simple Pleasures, as part of August’s Just Write! short story competition.
