Meta Zero One

Meta Zero 1

By Martin J Moss

 All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. All incidents are pure invention and any similarity is purely coincidental.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

© Martin J Moss 2012

[email protected]

Chapter 1
–
Stanley gets engaged, briefly.

   Stanley Kirby was nervous, he was extremely nervous.

   First and probably most importantly because he had never asked anyone to marry him before, and second, because he had just read the restaurant’s menu, and there was no way he could afford those prices on his meagre salary.

   Stanley had chosen the restaurant on the strength of a review he had read in Augusts’ GQ Magazine. They had listed the 10 most romantic restaurants in New York City, and this had been number 8.

  He dreaded to think how much the Number 1 restaurant would have cost, and he was glad that he had taken one look at the stern looking doorman and rejected it out of hand. His salary as a graphic designer could barely cope with the prices here as it was.

   He had to hope that Susie would be understanding, and not choose either the steak or the lobster.

  Stanley had arrived predictably early, so he could sit nervously, and worry that Susie would not turn up.

   He still could not believe that someone as beautiful, clever and creative as her would have ever even gone out with him, never mind that six months later he would be considering asking her to marry him.

   And be pretty sure that she would say yes.

   Stanley was well below average height, well below average weight, and he had to admit to himself, probably well below average in the looks department.

He was the sort of man who women's gazes’ usually passed over.

He was the sort of man who never got eyed up as he walked down the street.

He was the sort of man who usually found himself standing to one side at parties, nursing a large gin and tonic, and pretending to talk to a made up friend on his mobile.

   But he had one major asset when it came to women, an asset which unfortunately you had to get to know him well to appreciate, he was bloody funny.

   When women are surveyed about what were men’s most important qualities most of them put sense of humor at the top of the list.

    For most women however, this was, Stanley thought, a complete load of bollocks.  A washboard stomach, a face like George Clooney and a huge cock, beat a sense of humor in the game of dating “Top Trumps” every time. The only thing that beat everything, every time, with every woman he had met, was money, being rich won every hand.

Unfortunately Stanley was many things but wealthy was not one of them.

    Susie was different, he would never understand it, but he absolutely loved her for it. For some reason she seemed to like him, for some reason, he hoped at least, she seemed to love him.

   Susie was a copywriter at the advertising agency where they both worked; she was tall, slim, with short bobbed hair and bright blue eyes. She was, Stanley thought, exceedingly cute, it was as simple as that.

   When she had joined the agency late last year, Stanley had watched the account managers, the other designers, and even one of the partners asked her out.

 She had said no to all of them.

 He had worked with her on several important projects, gone away on overnight business trips and got to know her pretty well but had never made any move. He never even considered it to be honest, she was, he thought, well out of his league.

   He was therefore shocked and surprised when after two months working together; she had asked him out instead.

   He had been so surprised that at first he had said no, the word had just come out of his mouth before he could stop it. It had taken him at least five minutes before he had realised that she was not actually joking and had changed it to a yes.

   She teased him now that she had had to beg him to take her out, he still could not believe his luck.

   So now, he sat and waited, nursing his glass of warm tap water, he had not ordered a real drink because he wanted to stretch out his funds as far as humanly possible. A glass of water was still technically free after all. So now he sat, nursing his drink, worried that she would not turn up and if she did how he would afford to pay the bill.

  They had agreed to meet at 8.30, and it was now 8.25, he had arrived 20 minutes early to make sure the seat by the window he wanted was as perfect as he had imagined. That the exact bottle of Champaign he had arranged to be delivered to the table was chilling nicely, that the bunch of 12 red roses sitting behind reception looked lovely, and the waiter knew what his signal to bring it to the table was.

   Everything was in place, everything was ready, and all he needed now was Susie.

   The waiter arrived and Stanley realised that he needed to order a drink this time, not just a glass of water, so he went for a gin and tonic, Dutch courage, he thought smiling grimly.

   For the fifteenth time he adjusted his tie, then changing his mind he took it off and put it in his inside jacket pocket. He rarely wore a tie, and never when they had gone out before, and so he was worried that to start now might look odd.

  The trouble was that now, without the tie, he felt shabby and underdressed. For one thing the tie was the most expensive piece of clothing he owned. A neighbour had dumped a bag of old ties on him one day, leftovers from her errant husband, and he had kept this one, Paul Smith with red and black stripes, for a special occasion.

   Under the indulgent eye of the middle-aged woman at the table next to him, and the slightly more disapproving eye of the headwaiter, he dug the tie out of his pocket, and self-consciously put it back on again. It took three attempts to get it just right, short end too long, knot too big or just too tight.

   Now extremely self-conscious and more than a little embarrassed he took another, larger swig of his gin and tonic, almost finished it, he thought, and looked out of the window.

   Susie was there, standing beside the window looking in on him, her face pressed against the glass. She was laughing and pointing at him having stood and watched the whole tie on and tie off fiasco.

  He grinned back and watched her walk to the door, wink at the doorman and saunter sexily into the restaurant. All the time he kept his eyes on her, thinking how beautiful she was, how great she looked in the light summer dress which rode up in the breeze revealing her long tanned legs. He was acutely aware of all the men in the room surreptitiously glancing over at her, pretending to read the menu, or watch a passing car through the window.

   He loved the fact that she was his girlfriend.

   They're all wondering what on earth she is doing with me, Stanley thought.

   I wonder the same thing, all the time.

   “Hi Stan,” she said leaning over to kiss him on the lips, he of course was too busy stealing a glance down her top, catching a glimpse of her bra. As a result he missed her lips and ended up clumsily half on the mouth and half on the cheek.

   “You like the dress then?” she said, sitting down opposite him and leaning forward to put her chin on her left hand. Stanley tore his eyes away; it wasn't like he hadn't seen it all before plenty of times in various states in undress.

   “Yes, you look lovely,” he said, grabbing another mouth full of gin and tonic. “Thanks for coming.”

   “Thanks for coming!” Susie grinned, she knew full well what was in the air, she knew full well what Stanley had in mind, and she also knew full well what her answer would be. Right now she had no intention of letting him out of his misery too early.

    “What, you thought I wouldn't turn up?”

“No, obviously not, no sorry.”

  “I mean it's not every day that a girl’s invited out to a swanky restaurant by the man of her dreams is it?”

  "You Susie, have some very sick dreams.”

 “Don't you know it, sweetie.”

“Drink?”

   “Love one,” she replied, Stanley called the waiter over, Susie looked at him smiled and said, “do you do Champaign by the glass here? I don't feel like a full bottle yet anyway.”

“Certainly madam, and for you sir? Another gin and tonic perhaps,” the contempt was written all over his face. What the hell is she doing with you was practically stamped across his forehead.

   Stanley finished his gin, “No actually, I'll have the same thanks,” he had already priced up the Champaign and at $18 a glass he was starting to sweat. Still, he thought, he couldn't look cheap, you only do this once, at least I hope so.

   The waiter left and a few minutes later they both had glasses in their hands, “Cheers,” Susie said and they chinked their glasses together. Slow down love, he thought, it's $1 per mouthful, as she smiled and took another sip, $2 gone now, before putting the glass down and picking up the menu.

   “So, what to have, after all this is a special occasion?” she said, Stanley completely missed the teasing tone in her voice or the significance of her words. “I hear the oysters are really good here, and the lobster, oh I've never had lobster.  My dad always used to say it was the best thing he'd ever eaten, it was his “last meal” choice, so shall we have that? They do a two-person shared platter if you want.”

  “If you like,” Stanley said, “but I don't really like oysters, I had them once when I was 12, they made me puke my guts up, and lobster, it's overrated. It's like a big cockroach, I'd say. So I think I'll have the soup, and the risotto for main course, you have the lobster if you like.”

  “Ok, if you want sweetie, I'd really like to try it though so, if you don't mind.” Susie grinned when Stanley looked over at the waiter, she was enjoying herself immensely. She had a surprise of her own for him and knew the evening was going to be perfect if he could avoid having a massive heart attack over the prices.

  “You know they cook them live don't you, and they scream when they hit the boiling water,” he said.

  Susie looked at him, moving her arm so he would be distracted by her cleavage again; predictably his eyes were drawn where she wanted them to.

   “No they don't lover, that's the air escaping from their shells, they can't scream, they don't have vocal chords.”

   The food when it arrived was predictably excellent; in the end Susie had stopped tormenting him, and had chosen a goats cheese tartlet, followed by a fillet of trout with horseradish sauce.

  She knew exactly how much Stanley earned and had worked out quickly how much the meal would cost and how much he could reasonably afford.

   She had also worked out that if she had the trout, she could probably persuade him into a desert, and she fancied the coffee profiteroles. After all, she thought, it's not every day a girl gets engaged.

   “How's the tart?” Stanley asked.

 “I'm fine thanks, but you really shouldn't call me that in public.”

    “And the goats cheese one?”

   “That’s perfect as well, thanks,” Susie said, “the soup?”

   “Not bad,” not worth $15 he thought, he hoped the risotto was more substantial, although having seen it being brought over to another customer, he doubted it. Why did everything have to come in the shape of a dome, and what had happened to decent sized portions? It seemed to him that the more you paid, the less you got on your plate.

  “Stanley, can I ask you something, it's really really important?”

  “Yes of course, you can, I may have to lie to protect myself, particularly if the question is about my masturbation habits, or my unhealthy interest in my sisters’ breasts.”

   “You don't have a sister.”

   “Yes I know but if I did have one I definitely would have wanted to see her breasts, I'm sure of that.”