MAXINE'S DIARY, Monday the 1st, Breakfast time>
I just heard on the radio that, given the choice, many people would rather sleep with the dog or cat than another person. Ha ! Lately, I haven't even had that choice. For the last month or so, I've only slept with Socks on ... on the bed. That's a private joke between me and him - my three year old black short-haired Persian.
I call him Socks, because he's got white feet. Get it ? I only sleep with Socks on ... Sorry. Forget it. In this summer heat, I don't wear much anyway ...
I try to joke about it, my situation, you know, but the blues just flatten me right out. Not because of Bernie ... well, not really. It's better that we split up. We just weren't good for each other. I don't miss him, and I know he doesn't miss me. Yet ...
He wasn't really great in bed. I didn't call him St Bernard for nothing, you know. Nothing to write home about. What a joke ! Who'd write home about being slobbered all over four times a week ? But, well, just at the moment I'd prefer even Bernie to Socks. How does that silly old song go ?
"I've got a little cat,
And I'm very fond of that,
But I'd rather have a Bow-wow-wow."
Bernie was a real dog, and he called me a bitch often enough, but at least I was able to sleep at night when I was going with him. Maybe it was because I got off with more than just my right hand. Or was it that he was so boring, in and out of bed ?
I'll try thinking about him. That should send me to sleep. If I think about any other man, I'll probably lay awake all night ...

MAXINE'S DIARY, Tuesday the 2nd, Recollections of last night>
I seem to remember falling asleep, but who can ever tell exactly when they do ? Am I awake, or dreaming ? I get like that. Sometimes I can't tell. Either way, I'm still horny as hell. I am sure of that !
I find myself in a sort-of naughty foetal position. Legs curled up, one hand firmly clasped between my thighs, one stroking my backside, and one circling a budded nipple. Playing with myself again. How Mother would disapprove !
Wait a sec ... three hands ? I'm dreaming ... I must be.
The one on my breast doesn't look like mine ! Neither does the arm. There's a face moving into my field of vision from behind. Can't make out who it is, but I don't think it's Bernie. Is the face belonging to this strange hand going to kiss me ?
It's kissing me now, but not on the lips. Now I know it's not Bernie. Whenever Bernie's mouth touched my breasts, the dribble covered (at least) my stomach.
Why aren't I screaming ? I've never before woken up to find a strange man in my bed ... with his hands and lips on my breasts ... his heartbeat next to mine. But I'm not awake ... I'm sure I'm dreaming - it's never been this good while I was awake. I don't care. As they say in Mills and Boon, Take me, Dream Lover ! I'm all yours.

No, darling ! Don't leave ! Not now ! Please ! But it's no good. He stands, walks out, pausing only to blow me ... a kiss. He spoke not a word, but I'm sure I saw him mouthing the words "I'll see you soon" as he walked out the door.
Now I'm sure I'm awake. Socks is licking my ear. Ugh ! That rough cat's-tongue ! Not like my Dream Lover. What he could do to an ear shouldn't be seen or heard in polite company. Bugger off, Socks !
Wonder when he'll be back ? What a guy. I'm sure his hands were made to cup my breasts. Then he dashes off, like Cinderella at midnight. Perhaps I should search the kingdom. Whosoever's hands fit these breasts shall be the rightful Prince ... God, I can be a wacker sometimes.

MAXINE'S DIARY, Wednesday the 3rd
I saw him today ! You won't believe it but just today, a two days after I had that dream (was it a dream ?), I saw him.
I was on the bus, going to work. It was packed. I had to stand up, and I was sandwiched between some airhead wearing headphones and mirror glasses and a nice old lady who no-one would give a seat. Two stops before I get off, a whole bunch of people pour out ... and He was one of them. I jumped to the window, and nearly fell over an old guy in a business suit. I got a good look at Him as he strolled off, and the guy in the suit got a real good look down the V of my top. Slimy old bastard ! But I don't care. I'd have dropped my dress in rush hour just to know that He's real.

MAXINE'S DIARY, Monday the 8th>
A week's gone by. I've seen him twice more. Both times, the bus was packed, and He was at the back. I haven't dreamt about him the whole time (but I thought about it a lot), so it couldn't have been a dream. I wonder if he's annoyed with me ?

MAXINE'S DIARY, Tuesday the 9th>
I've done a really crazy thing today. I reckon I'll keep doing it until it works, too ! I usually get on a bus that comes in from about ten miles further out of the city. Today, I drove the car to the outer suburbs terminus, and got on there ! If he gets on this bus, there's no way I'll miss him !
Well, it hasn't worked today. We've nearly into the city, and he's not on the bus. Damn ! Oh, well, there's always tomorrow.

MAXINE'S DIARY, Monday the 15th>
Tomorrow became today, then yesterday, then the day before etc etc. He still hasn't showed. Plenty of people have called me an idiot, but I never really believed it until now. Getting up half an hour early every day, hoping I've picked the right departure time at a stop ten miles from my place. Even I don't believe it.

MAXINE'S DIARY, Tuesday the 16th>
If he doesn't show today, I'll give up, and start hanging around sleaze-joints like St Paul's Disco again. A week is plenty long enough.
Stop number Twenty. He's not here yet. Stop Fifteen. No sign. Stop Twelve. Damn ! I get on at Ten, and I've never seen him board ... wait ... it's him ! Getting on at Eleven. I don't believe it. He gets on one stop before me ! Not many on the bus today. There's a spare seat next to me, the only one left. He'll have to sit here. Bastard ! He's standing. He probably can't see it from the front. I'm right at the back, where I've been each morning the past three weeks, so I could see everyone who got on. I'd smile at him and point, but he's facing the other way. Oh, well, I'll get him tomorrow ... at the Eleven bus stop.

MAXINE'S DIARY, Wednesday the 17th>
I'm at Eleven, a few minutes before he usually gets on. Why didn't I think of it last night : to get off at the same stop as him ? What an idiot ! Oh, well, I'll try that if waiting here doesn't work.
Here comes a bus ... the fifth one that's passed since I've come out this morning. Not that it didn't stop. I didn't put my hand out. The neighbours must think I'm a nut.
Traffic's bad this morning. The bus'll take a while to get from this stop to the next (Ten). It's stopped a little way past the stop, because of the traffic. Who's on it today ? Airhead with the mirror glasses, Sleazbag in the business suit, that nice old lady, ... and HIM ! But he's supposed to get on here.
I ran to the next stop, and just caught it. There's a seat next to him ! I got it, too. I smiled at him. I opened my mouth to say something, moved my lips, and I could have died. My brain just wasn't in gear ...

Same Day, ALAN'S DIARY> The strangest thing happened to me today. This nice chick with a really cute smile grabbed the seat next to me on the bus. Grabbed it ! Just as some nice old lady was about to take it. Then she (the chick) started to talk to me.
At first, I thought she was foreign. I couldn't understand a word she said, but I nodded my head like I did. I think she was giving me the big come-on. Then she starts blushing, and starts making apologies ... I understood what she was saying then, because she was speaking English. I think she was saying sorry. But what for ? You know, like I was mad at her, and she was trying to smooth me over.
Anyway, I thought I may as well make the most of it, so I made a sort of a date to meet her at the local coffee joint after work. And all the time, I couldn't help thinking that I'd known her before ...

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