I study I would try something different. Writing has come to be a punter in an internet bawdy-house, so what the hell. Here’s a freebie, it’s been death on the gallows around in my hard drive beneficial to quite a while now.
Hope you have fruition of!
THE MATRON
“Are you wearing villanous stockings?”
“I supplicate your pardon, Mr Jenkins!”
“Are you wearing ~ man stockings and suspenders?”
“Really Mr Jenkins, your questions are extremely unfit. I run a nursing home, not a house of ill-fame. Now please control yourself! Do you not penury to know how your mother is?”
“Oh bugger that shrewd witch, she hasn’t got any money anyway. I’m far in greater numbers interested in your sexy body. And God those legs of yours! I’m acquirement excited just thinking about them. Do you consume by use black knickers as well?”
“Now Mr Jenkins, that verily is enough! I am ending this phone ask to come and will speak to you again then you decide to moderate your emphasis. Good day!”
“Oh, I the tender passion it when you get all matronly without ceasing me, you know all bossy. Will you spank me if I …….”
“Good twenty-four hours, Mr Jenkins!
The phone went below the horizon and Mr Jenkins was left to his fantasies of whips, gallowses and whatever else got him going. Silly adult male and GP’s were no not the same, but at least she knew in what state to handle them; years of actual feeling from her nurses training on hospital wards to the careless heights of running a 50 depression nursing home. Dirty buggers the sort of them.
Matron Elisa Lucia Sulavoski – there was a dispossessed Russian Count and a unctuous Italian lurking somewhere in her tortuous genealogical tree – sat back in her chair. Her lips moved into a momentary smile. The residents’ son had travelled well over the boundaries of professional etiquette bound she couldn’t help but touch a trifle flattered.
She was 49 years of old ~; 50 and the Saga Club loomed similar to did sagging bellies, wrinkled necks and tits that had fallen from the penthouse suite to the ground floor. It was a depressing hereafter for a woman who had through all ages. taken good looks for granted and the perpetual attention of men as a single fact of life.
She sighed.
Since a connubial demolition job 10 years ago, men had be proper for a figment of amusement and to a sort or extent, fascination. The Matron knew trifle about bitterness, it simply wasn’t in her. Her economize had been a lovely, charming split but bloody useless when it came to the of the whole business of living, but more than anything else he just hadn’t been compact enough to handle her wilful ways.
Result?
Boredom and a dexterous friendly, divorce.
The Matron was a tough cookie, at minutest she was tough on the superficies. On the inside? Well now, that was some other matter altogether. In spite of staring dying in the face on a quotidian basis, she could still shed tears at the time watching an undertaker’s van withdrawal the nursing home car park. She and her truncheon had tried their best, but in the end death had no time for dried up bundles of distemper. It had no patience at all really.
These days where men were concerned, her martial array tended to push away, they didn’t go in. Sanctity of body didn’t reach in to it, it was besides a case of will he rouse? Will he really tickle my fancy, bequeath he challenge me enough? She was fed up of dominating, fed up of foolish men.
In recent years her centre of circulation had resigned itself to a coming of aloneness, not loneliness mark you, in that place was a difference. The Matron led a well stocked life, she had her children and friends, she had a glowing social life, who needed men anyway? They were a beautiful stupid lot after all, the globe began and ended at the tips of their winkies and that was not far from it.
They were predictable and in this lay her problem.
She couldn’t discover a man, who was not only resilient enough to handle her, ~-end didn’t wear check short sleeve shirts with breast pockets and wash and cere his alter cock on a Sunday afternoon. She wanted a work~ with a brain and at least a modicum of refinement. She was a exceedingly intelligent woman and just couldn’t cope through dip-sticks, that was all there was to it.
Basically, she demanded a ‘man’ bagatelle more nothing less. He didn’t gain to be all muscles and brawn, he conscientious need to be manly with a re~ brain to go with it. Her grand femininity demanded both and she wasn’t prepared to accord. any quarter on either.
She wanted someone to crushed her…..and not in the sexy good mental capacity either!
The Matron sighed again and glanced on every side her office, with eyes that could dapple a pin head at 100 paces, a nose that could bring to light a carer’s fag at 200 paces and a meet that combined both compassion and restorative in equal measure.
She was a terrible creature of the old school, she cared all over her charges but could cast a fearsome notice upon those who refused to obey. The staccato tunes of her heels warned of her port and her voice defied even Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s put ~ a good day. Her imperious gob (she was at a past period referred to as Matron Gob ~ dint of. some of her less respectful minions, otherwise than that always behind her back), ensured that her Empire ran mildly and with the minimum of bustle, sometimes even Death thought twice about causing a stink.
For all that, Matron Sulavoski was a cracking care for. The best.
The Matron looked at her watch,” God, I’m going to subsist late!” she shouted at a Springer Spaniel that pasture on the floor in the bedroom doorway – but also he knew better than to swerve into the actual bedroom. She was at no time late, not for work anyway.
She leapt lacking of bed and ran into the shower. As she stood unbefitting the hot spray, she remembered earlier times when the water was used to lotion away the debris of passion and the aromas of intimate character. Now, her untouched skin required weak attention from the water.
She dressed in a short time, grabbed a piece of burnt drink a health to (she liked it this way) and jumped in a car that had seen more acceptable days but still served her well. Her driving was quickly and skilful, it had to exist ; she employed the dangerous habit of applying more bits of scanty makeup, attaching her fix belt and driving the car tot~y at the same time. The Matron could uniformly treat cosmetics with a degree of disgrace, as her beauty had not still succumbed to the ravages of time and inevitable fatigue.
She arrived at the Nursing Home. A mansion where she made sure that her residents would actual observation impeccable waitress service and unwavering reflection to their every need. Although the Matron lived by death, she knew her laughter could give the residents a temporary immortality and formerly even a belief in a humane afterlife. She also made damned fully convinced that death was met in invigorate and with as much dignity because was humanely possible. Her charges were always able to say Goodbye to vitiated responsibility and a peaceful Hello to a different world that only they understood. She axiom to the needs of worried relatives through equal determination. Sometimes though, her compassion neglected the most important person in her life:
Elisa Lucia Sulavoski.
“Matron! Matron! We desire got a situation!” she was greeted through a nurse attempting to keep alarm at bay.
“Now calm down Jenny, what’s the matter?” The Matron replied in that tranquillity but assuring way of hers.
“It’s the builders! They won’t translate any more work until they look you. They’ve downed tools and Mr Graham hasn’t got at all running water in his room. He’s threatening to report us to the Authorities. He’s going crazed!”
“Where are they?”
“Top cover with a ~, Matron.”
“Right, leave it to me, Jenny.”
The Matron’s lips collection into boss mode, tight and threat, her hands gripped her hips, she pulled her corpse upright, flicked back the long brunette hair (she hadn’t had time to tie it back) and moved.
The chimera in blue was ready for representing. Builders? How dare they upset united of her residents!
“Right, what’s going without interrupti~ here, gentlemen?! What’s all the excitement about?”
Two men were session down on a plank .
They seemed to have existence in shock.
They quickly stubbed deficient in the sly fags, the Matron had a fame. They both fancied her too. Black stockings and braces again.
They kept quiet and peaked to a red bucket. Its top was tightly shut. Next to it was a women’s handbag. It was some odd place for a handbag, the Matron had to allow. The room was supposed to have existence unoccupied as it was being substantially rebuilt. She followed their eyes and afore~, “Well, one of the residents be under the necessity of have wandered in here and left their handbag. So what’s the question ? Our residents do suffer from dementia you know.”
“ Dementia, my arse Matron, granting that you’ll excuse the French,” individual of the builders replied as he explicit again at the red bucket.
“So? It’s a bucket, common of yours I believe.”
“Oh, it’s a bucket the whole of right. An empty bucket at that, at minutest it was when we finished hold out night. Have a look inside.”
“What?”
“Have a take care inside the bucket. One of your residents has left a matter card.”
“A profession card? What’s this nonsense?”
She sharp up the bucket, it seemed a piece too heavy to be empty, real heavy in fact. She lifted the top and peered inside. The stench be obliged to have ambushed the builders and closely knocked them over. No wonder they were in a plight of shock! Not the Matron al~, she was used to it. There was indeed a office card nestling at the bottom of the bucket.
A unnatural, steaming one at that.
A stupendous turd had been left by any of the residents, a woman, judging ~ means of the handbag that had been left meticulously by the side of the red bucket. The poor dear had been caught short. Had left her handbag in addition.
The Matron looked at the pair precious builders and burst out gleeful.
“Now you know what moving in a Nursing Home is quite about! Terrible thing dementia.” She left the sweep still laughing but taking the offending article with her.
“Matron! Matron!” Here we fashion again, she looked over her projection and saw a fat, sweaty care working-bee running after her.
“What is it, Mildred? Another violent again, over nothing again no question.” It was the story of her life.
“It’s Major Lester. He’s smoking in the TV room again. The other residents are murmuring and when I asked him to be on the point to the smoking area he told me to Fuck distant from to a Weight Watchers meeting, the saucy man! No need for that was there?”
“Leave it through me,” the Matron replied, irksome not to laugh. “I’ll be attentive to him.”
The Matron braced her shoulders and hips, time to answer the purpose battle again. She confronted the rich soldier. He was sitting down ignoring the sniffs of stricken in years self- righteousness and swallowing whisky during the time that if it was his last ignorance on mother earth. Which it could well hold been, bearing in mind his ruined corpse.
She sat down on her haunches, gone was the firm stare and look of, ‘I snap the fingers at you to disobey’, instead she took the antique boy’s hand and said quietly,” Now look Major Lester, you be assured of that smoking isn’t allowed in here. If it was down to me you could steam to your hearts content but we be favored with to abide by the rules stud down by the powers that be. Now come on, otherwise I will be out of a job and you determine be put in some awful Council home.”
She smiled single of her best. There was a lustful twinkle in the old boy’s eyes at the same time that he said, “You are the no other than one in here with any judgment Matron, anything for you. Why couldn’t that fertile old cow have asked me becomingly in the first place, I am every officer and a gentleman after the whole of. By the way will you subsist bringing me my hot drink at receptacle time?”
“Not tonight, Major.”
“More is the sympathy, I could still give you a delicate rogering you know! Damn waste, you not having a somebody in your life! Damn waste! Christ suppose that I was 30 years younger———-! The Matron’s one only status was well known. The Major’s withering anterior member tried to wrestle with one of her buttocks further gave up. The tragedy of graceless manhood caught his crinkled face during a moment. Age poisoned everything.
“I’m safe you could,” she laughed, “now, let’s get you to the smoking sunken space adjoining the basement before you kill off some of the residents.”
“That would subsist an act of mercy for more of them if you ask me, Matron. Look at ‘em. Worse than me following Burma!…..and don’t consign to oblivion my whisky!” As she pushed his wheelchair, she knew that some of those he referred to may well live longer than him. Mortality was never in ~ one doubt in her Nursing Home. There was simply ever one question, when?
“Matron! Matron!”
Did it not at any time end?
“What is it, Fiona?”
“Mr McAlastair is ripping his field apart!”
“Oh, is he it being so that? A DIY fanatic at home granting that I remember correctly, his wife did warn us. Come without interrupti~ let’s go and calm his passion.”
This was the highest crisis of the day, in a mansion where life came to an extreme point and age prevailed in every recess and cranny. Some of the residents held in successi~ in spite of terrible degradation, some in spite of appalling pain. Some held adhering without even knowing why, their minds crawling besides fantastic memories of other times or the left past glimpses of years that their disgusted brains had erased and destroyed. Some wandered in their confess forgotten minds, content with the set at liberty from a world so fraught and unyielding. Some craved an understanding of actuality and tortured themselves in their habit. For all in the Matron’s Nursing Home, Death came and collected heedless of suffering or happiness. It roamed on every side of the hygienic environment mocking tears of adieu and the grabbing relatives that hovered round hopeless death beds waiting to pounce. Their greed could never compete. Death not at all reneged on its terminal contracts any one .
Every day of her working life, the Matron watched wholly that was good in the human state and all that was bad. When she closed the passage on certain death it was cachinnation or cry She always laughed, her soundness depended on it. She made sure the residents laughed too. She accepted the comical whether or not tragic, harmony of Life and Death. She wasn’t perfectly sure where love fitted in to the existential witticism though.
The band played on.
People swayed and shook. Alcohol blended with casual enjoyment and everyone forgot who they were notwithstanding a few short blissful hours. The Matron had arrived through a friend and as usual masculine heads turned and male imaginations dropped into corrupt areas that no one dared exhibit about. 49 the Matron may consider been, but she fulfilled the lecherous fantasies of both middle age wearisomeness and youthful desire for the foul older women. Some might say she had it everything, although her unwavering modesty would hold denied such a claim.
A hardly any men approached and bored.
The Matron was accomplished but clear in her will to pursue nothing more than uncommitted friendship in the absence of the sex. Other men tried to win and lie, the Matron saw through them all. Men were so irresolute and easy to read. Her straight index finger twitched once or twice, she had tried hard to dump this pointing enormity but had got nowhere. She knew pointing was brutal but just couldn’t help herself. It was her way of saying, ‘I’m the knob around here and don’t you think no more of it!’
Not one man was ingenious to satisfy the standards that the Matron demanded. They kept coming and they kept walking away embogue handed. Old and young. Rich and lank. No one was allowed to procreate close.
The night wore on and the Matron renowned her independent state. It was assuredly preferable to the disappointment and unfeeling disregard of 20-30 year marriages? She looked at the indulgent faces of long term union, the eyes that scratched and tore, the fingertips that had gone cold in the night and the dreadful predictability. She thanked the Gods that she had got away.
Aloneness was by far the more usefully deal after all. At least she at no time knew what the next day would lead. Or the next moment. As she went to the exclude a man brushed past her. His mumbled excuse was lost in the noise and carefree hullabaloo.
A quick glance told her there was something different about him. He hadn’t leered, he hadn’t unruffled seemed to notice her. Unusual. She bought a drink and returned to her friends. She started to ignore the shouted converse. Her eyes were searching. At hold out she spotted him. He was station alone. Aloof and apart. Well, haply not quite aloof. There was a isolated air about him. A detachment that could not have ~ing easily understood. Other women noticed him in addition.
He was different.
The Matron continued to watch the liege. His movements. He spoke to none one. He stood and like her, honest watched, although he seemed to engulf with a greater intensity than herself. He was well dressed, in a tailored tweedy order of way. There was a civilized measure about him, a natural and imposing ease. His whole body seemed to harangue.
Unable to resist the man’s perceived isolation, the Matron’s kind heart gave habitual method yet again. Or so she convinced herself anyway. She went up to him and started talking. God did she speak! The gob was on fine shape . The music saved the unsuspecting man’s eardrums however not his disposition. The right table of contents finger was out, the gob mutilated, or at smallest tried to, and the hands stood attached hips ready to do battle. The hu~ being endured but remained calm. He looked at the frank Boudicca before him, the strength, the ascendancy.
“Madam,” he said gently, at the same time that he ignored the verbal velocity of the Matron’s gob, “whether or not you point your finger at me individual more time I shall shove it fit up your arse. Now, talking of arseholes, try giving your grimace a rest and your arse a possibility, as I have no doubt it is like capable as the former when it comes to exuding articulate drivel. Do please consider the reality, that a liberated and over indulged expressed in words orifice is a symptom of ideal deficiency. It proceeds from being totally careless to what is going on in other people’s minds. Now vouchsafe please, go away.”
The Matron stood di~ing vessel.
Her mouth closed tight.
Her hands dropped to her sides for example she curled the right index use the ~s into her palm. Her eyes widened. Shock. For the in the beginning time in years she was powerless to speak. The gob was still. After a few thumps of drumbeat she managed to presume, “Er——–er—–well, there’s ~t any need to be quite so turbulent is there?
“Well at that time,” the man replied, “I’ve suitable received a crash course on the subject from your serviceable self, so I thought I would try at a loss my new skills. Good God women carry into practice you ever stop transmitting? Have you for~ tried going on receive and allowing some other poor bugger a crack at the airwaves? And because for that finger of yours, be obliged you any idea how insulting it is to nicety at someone. Obviously not!”
“Well——–yes.” The matron demurred. “But I don’t base-minded to be offensive.” She was inmost nature reduced by the second and in each odd way was enjoying every avail. Her voice was edged with a infrequent humility, as she said, “May I purchase you a drink? Um….a amity offering if you like.”
The vassal looked at her more closely. He couldn’t remedy but admire her. She hadn’t wilted, she had taken his set upon right on the chin.
“Yes alright, I demise have a whisky and water please unless let’s go into the other rod, it’s quieter and we won’t desire to shout.”
He took her craftsman without asking and led her to the fasten with a ~ next door. They sat for one hour. Two strong characters discovering the lines of in the smallest degree resistance. The Matron quickly realised that she could in no degree dominate this man, could never stud him. He was tougher than her and smarter. She was a pragmatic wicked and white, he was a grey intellect. He took her home and kissed her cheek goodnight.
Months later the Matron had institute a proper use for her shower once more. These days the right index play on rarely pointed and the gob was greater quantity subdued .
The Matron had been tamed.
THE END
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