The First Time

Strangely he felt a little empty, hollow even. There was a nagging feeling he'd lost something without being aware of what it was. Stupid guilt, probably.

He got home and saw the handwritten note he'd left on top of the kitchen counter. It had the address of the massage parlour. He'd left it for his mother in case 'something' happened to him and he didn't get back before she finished work. He didn't know what that 'something' might be other than massage parlours were illicit and vaguely criminal and it would be best to be on the safe side just in case he ended up being drugged, abducted and having his kidneys removed for the black market.

It was silly, really. Of course nothing had happened. This was the real world, not a stupid gangster flick. He should have been more worried about his bus getting stuck in traffic, or his mother finishing work unexpectedly early and getting back before him. That would have left him with some awkward and extremely embarrassing questions to answer.

Smiling, JT crumpled up the useless note and tossed it into the bin.