The Sexy Calendar

In a bright, busy shopping mall was a stall which sold calendars. They were displayed in racks and divided into sections: TV show calendars, movie star calendars, landscape photograph calendars and—taking up four rows—calendars that featured sexy women. In contrast, the woman selling the calendars was short, tough-looking and had small suspicious eyes. Her long, bleached blond hair was tied back in a ponytail which may have suited her when she was twenty, but she wasn't twenty now.

It was her experience that the shoppers came in waves—sometimes it was busy and sometimes there were lulls. When there was a lull, a woman who worked in a nearby shop would come out for a chat. She was dark-haired but about the same age and height as the blond woman and the two of them would enjoy a few moments of complaining about the shoppers.

One day, the blond woman was in full swing complaining about the lack of people willing to spend money when the dark-haired woman nodded to indicate that there was someone behind her. The blond woman turned and saw a gaunt man with lank hair holding a calendar in both hands. His fingernails were dirty.

'How much?' he said.

The blond woman glanced at the calendar. It was the Christina Fabulosa calendar from the sexy girl section.

'Nine pounds, ninety-nine,' she said.

The man held out a ten-pound note. Making a mental note to wash her hands afterwards, the blond woman put the note into her money belt and handed the man a penny change.

'Do you want a bag for that?' she said.

The man stared at her blinking. Finally realising that she hadn't said 'fuck off', the man bobbed his head and smiled. Keeping her expression fiercely neutral, the blond woman snapped a thin blue plastic bag open and dropped the calendar into it. She held it out so that he could take it without their fingers touching.

'Thank you!' said the man. 'Thank you very much!'

He bobbed his head in farewell as though she were a duchess and hurried away holding the calendar to his chest. The blond woman watched him disappear and then turned to her friend. The brown-haired woman looked back at her.

'Yuck!' she said.

***************************

As soon as the man arrived home in his tatty apartment, he ripped open the bag and took out his calendar. He sat on a grime-coloured sofa and stared at the cover picture of his dream girl.

Christina Fabulosa was wearing a bikini and kneeling on a beach somewhere, the water lapping around her knees and feet. She had the look of a teenage girl who had just burst into the full flower of womanhood. Her breasts were large and round, her body was curved and slender, and her full brown hair looked smooth and soft. But it was her smile and the look in her eyes that really got to him. She seemed to be saying:

Look at me

Look at me

I want you to look at me...

The man propped the calendar up against a cushion on the sofa, unzipped his pants and began to masturbate. As he did, the awareness that he was half-lying on a sofa jacking off in front of a calendar faded into the background. He felt himself transported to another reality ... a reality in which the luscious Christina Fabulosa was kneeling before him on a beach and smiling at him.

I love what my body does to you

I love that I turn you on

The man licked his hand and circled his knob. He could feel his balls tighten as he approached orgasm. Christina smiled at him.

Go on, go on

I want you to do it

Don't worry that this is a public beach

And that you might get arrested...

The man blinked. He was back in his living room and starting to go soft. He looked at the picture of Christina Fabulosa, but now all he could see was the beach behind her. The calendar was still in its cellophane wrapper, so he clawed it off and opened it to February.

Christina Fabulosa was standing in front of a huge window letting in golden sunlight. It was clearly somewhere exotic—a palm tree was visible outside and a shimmering silk curtain billowed behind the girl. Her skin was golden from the light and she wore white panties of sheer silk—and nothing else. She held her breasts in her hands as though the man had just walked in on her. But the smile and the look in her eyes were the same:

Look at me

Look at me

I want you to look at me...

The man's breath caught in his throat. He licked his hand and resumed masturbating, his eyes fixed on the body, the smile, the promise of sex.

Yes, my lover, yes

I want you to come...

The man's cock was rock hard and his hand going faster and faster. His breaths became short as he got closer to climax.

Yes ... yes...

I want you to do it

As I stand naked in a hotel

That you couldn't afford in a million years...

'Damn it!'

The man was going soft again and getting a bit sore. He flipped over the pages of the calendar, looking for the right picture. March, April, May, June ... July!

Christina Fabulosa was completely naked in this one. She was standing under a waterfall of some kind, up to her knees in an emerald pool. Her back was turned and the curved, perfect cheeks of her bottom were on full display. Her hair was wet and combed back and she was catching a stream of water that was splashing against her breasts. But her face and her smile still said:

Look at me

Look at me

I want you to look at me...

The man regained his erection and resumed masturbating. He stared at the image of Christina Fabulosa and she smiled back, unashamed, unafraid, wanting his lust, wanting him to come...

Yes, my lover, yes

I am offering myself up to you...

My body

My breasts

My naked bottom

They're yours to lust over

Yours to have

Yours to...

His telephone rang.

***************************

In the shopping centre, the blond woman who sold calendars was having a chat with her dark-haired friend from the shop. She was in the middle of saying something when her face fell.

'Don't look now,' she said. 'But that man from earlier is back.'

'You mean that creep with the girlie calendar?'

'Him and no other.'

'Lucky you.'

But the man walked past the calendar stall and into a nearby shop. The blond woman looked at her dark-haired friend whose yellow blouse and purple waistcoat matched the yellow and purple logo of the shop's sign.

'It looks like lucky you!' said the blond woman.

The other woman sighed and went back into the shop where she worked -- a shop which sold and repaired telephones.