Jodie's Apartment

by Arthur Saxon
arthursaxon@zombieworld.com

Brian closed his eyes and a beatific smile broke out on his face as he breathed in the delightful aroma of the sausages that were currently sizzling on the barbecue. "My word," he said, "you're better at this than I am, Colin. My sausages always end up burnt on the outside and raw on the inside."

"The trick," explained Colin, "is not to put anything on the grill until the flames have died right down. Slow cooking, that's the secret." He carefully turned over each sausage as he talked. "So anyway, who's this new friend of yours? What's her name … Jodie?" He indicated the petite brunette sitting on a deck chair beside his wife at the far end of the garden.

"She's Meredith's friend, really. Well, colleague actually. Bit of a lonely soul, I think. Meredith thought it would be nice to invite her along."

"Seems pleasant enough," remarked Colin. "Bit quiet though."

Brian nodded, looking across the garden to where his wife, Sally, was talking animatedly with Colin's wife. The two of them, perhaps unintentionally, were ignoring Jodie, who was quietly sipping a glass of lemonade.

"I'd better go and talk to her," said Brian.

"Okay, well you can tell the ladies that the sausages are ready."

"Will do," acknowledged Brian as he set off across the lawn. "Come on, girls!" he said as he approached the women. "Grub's up, and smells tip-top."

"We can smell it from here," said Meredith. "Want to butter my baps, Brian?"

"Sounds like an offer I can't refuse," he grinned.

Sally aimed a kick at her husband. "Hey you two, stop flirting," she complained.

"Hungry, Jodie?" asked Brian, smiling at his wife's friend.

"Sure," said Jodie, getting to her feet.

Ten minutes later they were all sitting together, munching on the barbecued food. Brian turned to Jodie. "So," he said, "I understand you're in purchasing. Nice work?"

Jodie shrugged. "It's not bad," she said. "I'm hoping to move into customer service though."

"Ah." Brian nodded. "More pay?"

"Yes, and more interesting work. Oh … oh … heck!" Jodie suddenly stiffened and looked down in a panic at the front of her dress.

"What's the matter?" asked Brian in alarm.

"Oh … oh … get it off me please!" begged Jodie.

Brian peered closely at the front of her dress, then laughed. "Crumbs," he said. "It's only a hoverfly. Did you think it was a wasp?"

Jodie did not seem very much mollified. "Well, I did actually," she said. "But please could you shoo it away? I hate to touch insects."

Brian flicked it off her lap. "There, gone," he said. "That's quite a phobia you've got there."

But Jodie was looking in concern at where the hoverfly had landed on the grass. "Oh dear, did you have to hit it so hard? I think you hurt it."

Brian stared at her, perplexed. "Pardon me for saying this, Jodie, but you're a strange woman. First you act like you hate it, then you worry that I might have hurt it?"

Jodie blushed crimson at being called 'strange'. "Don't get me wrong," she said. "I love animals, I really do - I can't bear to see any animal hurt. That applies to insects as much as to mammals or birds. But I really can't bear to have anything crawling on me, especially insects." She shuddered. "I'd like to be able to attribute it to a childhood trauma, but really I have no idea why it freaks me out so much."

Brian chuckled. "That's quite a phobia you've got there. You should try hypnotherapy or something."

"Actually I have," said Jodie. "It didn't work though. To be honest I don't believe I was hypnotised, though the doctor assured me I was. But it certainly didn't help." She got out of her chair and walked over to where the hoverfly was struggling through the grass blades. Anxiously she watched as it fluttered its wings ineffectually, then she drew back hastily as it suddenly took off into the air. She sighed with relief, watching it fly away over the top of the fence.

She returned to her chair. "It seems all right now, thank goodness," she reported.

"Uh huh," said Brian, regarding her with a faintly amused expression. "So do you have any pets?" he asked her.

Jodie shook her head. "I'm allergic to cats," she said, "and while I like dogs, I couldn't bear to keep one locked up all day in my little flat while I was at work. You need to spend more time with a dog than I have to spend."

"Well how about a hamster or something?" suggested Brian. "Or a rat - I hear they make very good pets."

Jodie was horrified at this idea. "I know rats are very intelligent, and very responsive, and so on and so on, but they just turn my stomach - I can't help it. Hamsters too, I'm afraid. Anything so small that runs so fast … ugh!"

Brian gave up. 'What an oddball,' he said to himself as he turned to join in the conversation his wife was having with Meredith.

Jodie sipped at her drink. 'What a jerk,' she said to herself.

As much as the others made occasional superficial attempts to include her in their conversations that evening, Jodie felt quite left out for much of the time. Eventually she made her excuses and left early. She drove home through the gathering dusk and parked in the car park outside the block of flats where she lived. As she walked towards the building, a glint at the edge of the path turned out to be a discarded hypodermic needle, which she gave a wide berth. 'I have to find somewhere better to live,' she thought.

The lift was broken, again. She trudged up the stairs, glad that she lived on the fourth floor and not the eleventh. On the stairwell between the second and third floor a young man was slumped over, his head lolling, muttering incoherently. Jodie hurried past him, then reached into her purse to take out her keys. She hated this building, with its broken windows, its aggressive dogs and its drug dealings, but she could not afford to move out. This was her own fault, of course - whenever she got any money to spare, she blew it on worthwhile animal (and sometimes humanitarian) causes. Many parrots, butterflies, monkeys and impoverished children owed their lives to her frequent donations, and knowing this made living in this hellhole almost bearable. Every time she got so depressed that she felt she just had to move out, a letter would arrive from some wildlife foundation or other, telling her how much good her money was doing. And then her own problems would seem trivial, and her spirits would be lifted by the thought that she was saving lives and improving the lot of those less fortunate than herself.

She unlocked the door of her flat and entered her somewhat dishevelled living room. She was inclined to be a poor housekeeper, she reflected, but then it did not really matter as she lived alone and almost never had visitors. She threw her bag on the couch and wandered through into the kitchen. The sink was full of dirty dishes, and she grimaced at the thought of washing up. Opening a cupboard, she found there was still a clean mug in there, so she brought it out, popped a tea bag into it and switched the kettle on.

Noticing that the sugar bowl was almost empty, she bent down and opened one of the lower cupboards in order to fetch the half-full bag that she kept at the back of the lower shelf. Peering into the gloom, she yelped suddenly as she saw something scuttle across the shelf and out of sight behind a bag of flour. She jumped backwards, slamming the cupboard door.

She shuddered in horror. The 'something', she was certain, had been a cockroach. How had it got there? And were there more of them? Her heart sank at the prospect of her flat being invaded by the horrible insects. She did not know much about cockroaches, but she felt sure that where there was one, there were bound to be more.

The kettle came to the boil and, rather shakily, Jodie poured the water into her mug. She added a spoonful of sugar, then some milk, and stirred until the tea darkened to her desired colour. She removed the bag and dropped it into the swing-top bin. Then, sipping at the hot tea, she tried not to think about cockroaches. It was not easy.

She did not see any more that evening. She had a bath, climbed into bed with a book, and read for about an hour before switching the light off. By the time she went to sleep her traumatic encounter was almost forgotten. Her dreams were untroubled, and she awoke early the following morning in reasonable spirits.

Wandering through to the kitchen dressed only in a long t-shirt, she pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard without even looking. Then she realised that her breakfast dishes were all dirty, so she decided that the time had come to wash up. She began to pull plates, bowls and cutlery out of the sink in order to set the washing-up bowl, which was also full of dishes, in their place.

As she pulled one of her willow-patterned plates off the top of a lasagne-encrusted glass dish, a cluster of six or seven cockroaches was revealed. She screamed and dropped the plate as the insects scuttled for cover. One of them appeared suddenly on the edge of the counter just in front of her, climbing out of the sink with alarming speed, and dropped several feet on to the floor, where it ran for the skirting board.

Jodie fled the kitchen, ran straight through her living room, and jumped on to her bed where she sat for several minutes, hugging her knees and quivering. 'What am I to do? What am I to do?' she kept repeating to herself. Then she reached a decision. She climbed off the bed and trotted through to the living room. Sitting on the couch, she picked up the Yellow Pages and flicked through until she reached the 'Pest Control' section. Picking up the phone, she dialled a number.

"Hello. This is Pest-U-Hate. Our office hours are nine to five, Monday to Friday, and ten to five on Saturday. Please call again during those hours. Thank you."

Jodie sighed and put the phone down. She would have to call them from work. She made a note of the number and went back to her bedroom to get dressed. She could not face entering the kitchen again, and besides, she had lost her appetite.

Two hours later, at her desk in the purchasing office of Henderson Fabrics, she phoned the pest control number again. A female voice answered.

"Hello, this is Pest-U-Hate, how may I help you?"

"Um, hello," said Jodie. "I seem to have a bit of a cockroach problem…"

"I see. Where do you live?"

Jodie told her.

"That's fine, we can have someone call this afternoon to take a look and evaluate the problem, if that's all right…"

"Um, I'm at work until five," said Jodie. "I don't get home until nearly six. Can you call this evening?"

"Yes, that won't be a problem. Shall we say sometime between six-thirty and eight? I'm afraid I can't be more specific than that. I'm afraid there will be a small extra charge for a late call-out."

"That's fine. Um, I'm a bit concerned though - I realise this may seem a bit strange to you, but I'm anxious not to actually harm the cockroaches…"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I couldn't bring myself to bring death upon innocent creatures who are only doing what it's in their nature to do. I was hoping you could just, you know, move them or something…"

"Are you serious?"

Jodie blushed, despite the fact that the woman on the other end of the line could not see her. "I realise it's probably a little unorthodox…" she began.

"I'm sorry, we don't 'move' pests. We exterminate them. That's our job."

"Well yes, I realise that, but isn't there any way…"

"Good grief, these are cockroaches we're talking about! Why in heaven's name would you want them to live? They're horrible pests - let us give them what they deserve."

"No, no - I can't," said Jodie. "I've never intentionally killed any animal in my life - well, except for when I was very little - and I can't pay someone else to kill an animal for me. It's just wrong, it's immoral - I can't do it."

"Suit yourself. Thank you for your call."

Jodie chose to ignore the hint of sarcasm in the woman's voice. "Thank you," she said, and hung up.

The day passed quickly - too quickly for Jodie, who was beginning to dread returning home. But five o'clock soon came around and, fifty minutes later, Jodie was entering her flat once more. Putting her bag down, she began to tip-toe nervously towards the kitchen. She paused at the door, then opened it and stepped inside.

She spotted one immediately - it was darting across the counter where she had left the sugar bowl. It vanished from view, and she looked around some more, suppressing the urge to bolt, before taking another step forward. A movement in the corner of her eye made her turn to her left. There, not two feet away, a small roach was climbing up the wall.

Jodie jumped backwards, grabbing the door as she went and pulling it closed after her. For a few minutes she stood there, breathing hard. 'This is silly,' she told herself. 'You've got to face your fear. Now go back in there and clean up.'

But this was easier thought than done. She paced up and down the living room, wondering idly for a moment whether she could manage to exist here without ever going in the kitchen. It was a possibility she quickly discounted - she could not afford to go out to eat every day.

Taking her courage in both hands, she re-opened the kitchen door and walked determinedly in. Shutting the door behind her, she pretended that nothing was wrong, keeping her eyes fixed firmly in front of her, and headed straight for the sink. The first thing to do, she decided, was to wash the dishes. She took hold of a plate and pulled it out of the sink, gritting her teeth as she did so. There was nothing underneath. Jodie allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

When she lifted up the glass dish, however, which three days ago had contained lasagne, two roaches were uncovered. Jodie backed off, stifling a scream, then advanced, brandishing her plate at the insects. "Shoo! Shoo!" she said plaintively.

But the roaches merely disappeared further underneath the pile of dishes in the sink. Jodie uttered a small unhappy sound and stepped forward once more. The thought of putting her hands into the sink when she knew there were cockroaches in there made her skin crawl. But she took a deep breath, then grabbed everything together and lifted it out, dumping it on the counter next to the sink. She let go and jumped backwards, terrified that the insects might crawl on to her arms. But they did not.

The long, arduous dish-washing ordeal now began. Several times Jodie had to run from the room, when a moved plate or bowl revealed a cockroach hiding beneath. But each time she steeled herself and forced herself to return to the sink. It seemed to take forever, but the pile of dishes gradually diminished. When the drying rack became full, she dried and put away the clean dishes before washing the next batch. The whole process took two excruciating hours - the worst two hours of Jodie's life. Afterwards, she put away any food that she had left out on the counters, and wiped them down thoroughly. Pleased with her handiwork, and with the fact that she could not see any cockroaches at the moment, she left the room feeling quite proud of herself.

She phoned the pizza delivery service for a regular deep pan tuna and sweetcorn pizza, then slumped on the couch and switched the television on. The News was on, but it was almost over. She channel-surfed for a few minutes, and finally settled on a cheap and cheerful TV movie telling the true story of a divorcing couple's battle to win custody of their children. Riveting though it was, Jodie found her eyelids beginning to droop.

An unexpected movement caused them to flick open. Jodie stared in horror as a large cockroach emerged from beneath a cushion and scurried up and over the arm of the couch. She leapt to her feet in a panic. Grabbing hold of one of the seat cushions, she pulled it off in order to see what was beneath. Four cockroaches immediately scattered in alarm. Clutching the cushion, Jodie watched with a queasy feeling as one by one they found new hiding places and disappeared from view.

Then another roach, which had been clinging to the base of the cushion, decided to try its luck on the other side. Jodie screamed as it suddenly appeared, just inches from her hand, and she dropped the cushion on the floor. Just how many of the horrid insects were there?

With a knotted stomach and sweating palms, Jodie removed the other seat cushion from the couch. Seven or eight roaches. She lifted up the front of the couch - a few roaches hurried deeper into the shadow. She lifted up the beanbag in the corner - ten or twelve were hiding back there. She pulled a pile of books away from the wall - more roaches were revealed. They were everywhere.

The doorbell rang. Wiping tears from her eyes, Jodie grabbed her purse and went to answer it. Her pizza had arrived. She paid the delivery boy, then returned to the couch and sat down. She was rather distraught, but was also by now quite hungry, so she nibbled her pizza while keeping a wary eye out for roaches.

Having eaten most of it (she could never finish a whole one), Jodie retreated to her bedroom, though she was under no illusions that this room would be any more free of the insects. A quick look under her bed confirmed that they were out in force even here. She pulled back her bedspread and the duvet beneath. A single cockroach ran for the side of the bed, climbed down to the floor, and dashed across to a hole in the skirting board.

Jodie went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She had no idea what to do about her cockroach problem. No matter how bad it got, she could not pay somebody to come and kill them. She could not even kill any of them herself. Horrible as they were, they were still living creatures and were only doing what was natural for them. Her aversion to them was her own problem.

She had once seen an episode of 'ER' in which a woman had to have a cockroach removed from her ear - it had crawled in there during the night. Jodie was anxious not to let this happen, so she wadded up some tissue paper and blocked up her ears before climbing into bed. She wrapped the duvet tightly around herself and folded the bottom end over, so that she was almost entirely cocooned. She cockroaches would not be able to get at her except via her neck - she hoped they would not discover this access point.

It took a long time for her to get to sleep. It was a warm night and the urge to throw off the duvet was strong. Stronger, though, was her urge to prevent the roaches from crawling over her while she slept. So the duvet stayed, and inside it she sweated profusely.

The bleeping of her alarm woke her up the following morning. Automatically she reached over and switched it off. Then she recalled the events of the night before. She opened her eyes and rubbed them with the back of her hand, then looked around to take stock of the situation.

She had apparently thrown off her duvet during the night. It lay, bunched up, just beside her, with one end trailing over the edge of the bed. She sat up. At once two startled cockroaches scuttled across the sheet away from her, one disappearing over the edge and one taking refuge underneath the duvet. Jodie squealed and jumped to her feet. Another cockroach, which she had not noticed until now, fell from the front of her t-shirt and landed on the bed. It, too, now scurried for cover.

Jodie got dressed immediately - she could not wait to get out of the flat. As she picked up each item of clothing, she shook it thoroughly and checked it over for cockroaches. She found just one. Once fully dressed, she went through to the kitchen and there stopped in her tracks. From the doorway, she could count thirteen roaches in plain view, some on the walls, some on the counters, some on the floor. Nevertheless, refusing to be exiled from her own kitchen, she somehow found the courage to make herself a bowl of cereal, which she ate in the living room.

At work, she idly brought up the subject of cockroaches with her manager, a short, balding man in his forties.

"Dave," she said, "do you know anything about cockroaches?"

"A little," he replied. "A very ancient and distinguished group of insects. Appeared in the early Carboniferous, you know - they were among the first flying insects in the world, along with dragonflies. Some of them at that time grew to six or seven inches in length. These days not all of them can fly - some have lost their wings altogether. Brilliant runners though. Very tough and adaptable. Why do you ask?"

"I … have a bit of a roach problem," she confessed. "I was wondering how I might get rid of them."

Dave shrugged. "Any pest control agency worth its salt will sort you out, no problem. Oh, hang on though - you live in a block of flats, don't you? Ah, well there you have a slightly complicated situation."

Jodie raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes, well you could spend a fortune getting your flat cleansed, only to have them back again in a week. Too much access from neighbouring flats, you see. To cure your problem, you'll need to have your local council do the entire block."

"Oh. Oh, well I couldn't possibly do that," said Jodie.

"Why's that?" inquired Dave, puzzled.

"I couldn't live with myself, knowing I had caused the death of so many animals. Thanks anyway, though."

"No problem," said Dave with a shrug. "Did you know that an anagram of 'cockroaches' is 'choose crack'?"

This threw Jodie. "Um, no… But thanks for letting me know."

Dave grinned. "Don't mention it."

Slightly mystified, Jodie returned to her desk.

 

That evening, there seemed to be more cockroaches than ever. Either that or they were becoming bolder and less eager to hide. As soon as she walked in the door, she spotted two on the far wall, and when she carried on into the room she caught glimpses of movement in several different places. Jodie had to exercise a great deal of self-control in order not to keep screaming every few seconds.

With some trepidation, she went into the kitchen, where she intended to make herself some scrambled eggs on toast. Everywhere she looked, she could see at least one cockroach. She tried desperately to ignore them as she fetched two eggs, the margarine tub and a piece of bread from the fridge. Then, bracing herself, she opened one of the lower cupboards to fetch a glass bowl. A dozen cockroaches scattered, but since none was actually on the bowl she wanted, she grabbed it and slammed the door shut.

She washed the bowl thoroughly, then cracked the eggs into it. When she had whisked them up, she pulled a pan off the top shelf. Inside it was a very large cockroach, and she dropped it on the floor in shock. The roach dashed off across the floor.

The telephone rang. Jodie, glad of an excuse to leave the kitchen for a while, ran through to the living room to answer it.

"Hello?" she said a little breathlessly.

"Hello, is Terry there please?"

"Um, I'm sorry, nobody called Terry lives here. I think you may have got the wrong number."

"Oh. I have his number as being two-one-six, four sev…"

"Ah, well this is two-one-three, not two-one-six."

"Oh. Very sorry. Bye."

Jodie hung up. She took a deep breath, then returned to the kitchen. A couple of cockroaches were running across the counter on which she had left the bowl of whisked eggs, so she went to grab it before they could get inside. To her horror, there was already a smallish roach swimming through the egg. Shuddering in disgust, she poured the egg into the sink, along with the cockroach. The bulk of the egg began to slide into the plug hole, and she washed it down with some water. Not too much, though, for she could not bring herself to drown the roach, which was struggling to free itself of the glutinous mixture of yolk and albumen. It was quickly washed into the plughole, but it was too large to slip down into the drain. In due course it was washed clean, and it scuttled up the side of the sink to safety. Jodie washed the bowl out, then started again with two new eggs.

That night it was hot again, and Jodie decided to dispense with the duvet. Instead she wrapped herself in a clean sheet, tightly at first, but this made her feel claustrophobic. She loosened the sheet just enough to give herself some freedom of movement, and tried to get to sleep. She had already put her ear plugs in. But sleep did not come easily. She could hear the roaches scuttling across the floor, over the wall, and behind the cupboards. It was two o'clock in the morning before sleep finally overtook her.

She awoke with a start. There was something in the wrapped-up sheet with her. She felt it crawling over her bare thigh. Frantically she kicked her legs and thrashed her way out of her cocoon. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked down and saw several roaches crawling on her t-shirt. She screamed and froze, wanting to brush them off but unable to bring herself to touch them. She began to hyperventilate, immobilised by sheer terror, watching helplessly as the roaches swarmed over her chest, her belly, and her bare legs beyond the lower limit of her t-shirt. In mounting horror she saw one roach actually run up the inside of her leg and disappear under the t-shirt, heading for her crotch. She felt its feathery touch tickle her thigh higher and higher, until it reached her panties. She closed her eyes and wished she were dead.

Other roaches had found their way underneath her t-shirt. She could feel them crawling about on her belly, her chest and around her breasts. She felt paralysed, semi-catatonic, helpless to prevent the awful things happening to her. Her mind felt ready to implode.

Yet deep down she knew that her immobility was an illusion. She could easily, if she so chose, get up and rid herself of these pests. But could she summon up the willpower? She emptied her mind of all thoughts, trying to blot out the sensations of insects climbing over her body. Even when a large roach emerged from her hair and began to climb across her face, she made no move and uttered no sound.

An hour later, she was still in exactly the same position. Cockroaches had come and gone, but the population exploring her body remained roughly constant. Then one found a gap between her skin and the waistband of her panties. Jodie found herself jerked back into a kind of alertness as she felt the creature crawl over her pussy.

Then her alarm went off. The spell was broken. With a shrill scream, Jodie leapt to her feet and practically tore her t-shirt from her body. Cockroaches flew in all directions. She then pulled down her panties, only to find that the roach was clinging to her pubic hair. As tears poured down her cheeks, she jumped up and down, flapping her hands in the air, hoping to dislodge it.

The roach fell, and Jodie ran from the room. Naked, she entered the sitting room and stood in the middle of the floor, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. It was some time before she could bring herself to return to her bedroom in order to get dressed. When she did so, she found cockroaches all over, and inside, her clothes. Even her underwear drawer contained dozens of roaches. Somehow she managed to dress herself, but it was a horrifying ordeal. She was very glad to get out of the flat.

She was feeling somewhat better by the time she arrived at her workplace. She settled down at her desk, and bent her mind to her work, trying not to think about the awful night she had spent. It helped that a sudden rush of order forms had come in, so she was kept busy for most of the morning.

At midday the sandwich man arrived, and she opened her bag to get out her purse. Immediately a cockroach emerged and she squealed involuntarily as the insect climbed out and ran off across the floor.

Dave was staring at her. "Are you okay?" he inquired.

Jodie looked up nervously. "Sorry," she said. "I just … never mind."

Her spirits were rather dampened by this incident and she was rather off-form for the rest of that day. As five o'clock approached, she wondered how she could possibly bring herself to go back to her flat. Rather reluctantly, she got into her car and began the drive home, her sense of panic mounting constantly as the journey progressed. As she entered her home town, she found herself driving around aimlessly for a while. Eventually she pulled into the car park of her local supermarket. 'I need some milk anyway,' she told herself.

In fact she bought more than just milk. While passing the alcohol section, she reflected that she could do with something to steady her nerves. She was not really much of a drinker, but she had once tried whisky and found it drinkable. She bought three bottles.

Back in the car, she took a quick swig from one of them. She felt terribly guilty about doing so - it was very bad to drink and drive - but she figured one mouthful would not put her over the limit, and besides, she was quite close to her block of flats now. She started the car and drove home.

The infestation was worse than ever. There were several on the living room wall as she went in, and moving any piece of furniture revealed literally hundreds hiding beneath. Shaking like a leaf, with tears springing to her eyes, she sat down on her couch and pulled out a bottle of whisky. She drank, deeply, gratefully.

Half an hour later she had consumed more than a quarter of the bottle's contents. Her senses numbed, she watched TV with eyes that drooped more heavily with each passing minute. She did not even notice when cockroaches emerged from the couch and began climbing over her, running over and inside her jacket, into her blouse, under her skirt, and in her hair. Whenever she did feel something was not quite right, she took a quick gulp of whisky as protection against it.

At midnight, she got unsteadily to her feet. Placing the bottle very carefully on the floor, she staggered through to her bedroom, then on to the bathroom. She did not feel at all well. She brushed her teeth, passably well, then bent over the toilet bowl as she felt the urge to throw up. For several minutes she stayed there, but the urge eventually retreated and she managed to hold on to her stomach contents. She stumbled through to her bedroom, pulling her jacket off as she went.

She removed her shoes, shirt, skirt, bra and panties, then began to look for her t-shirt. She could not find it. She mumbled a vague expletive. Pulling back the duvet, she saw but barely noticed the hundreds of cockroaches that swarmed over the sheet. Collapsing into the middle of the bed, she fell asleep almost immediately.

The roaches clambered over her naked body, eating her sweat. They explored every inch of her, some of them discovering her pussy and enjoying the flavours they found there. One of them, a female, carrying seven egg cases in an advanced state of development, happened upon her vaginal opening and quickly pushed its way inside. Each egg case contained forty or so eggs, which were all about to hatch. The female, a good mother, would hold on to them until the nymphs actually began to emerge.

Other females in a similar condition soon discovered this wonderful hiding place. They climbed in after the first, burying themselves deep inside Jodie's vaginal cavity. There they stayed, feasting on her body's internal secretions.

When Jodie awoke, in the early hours of the morning, to find hundreds of roaches surrounding her and crawling on her naked body, she screamed and jumped off the bed. Rushing through to the living room, whimpering, she grabbed the comforting whisky bottle and put it to her lips. Closing her eyes, she drank a long draught.

She looked down at her torso. Two roaches were still there, having clung on tightly during her dash from the bedroom. If she had checked herself out properly in a mirror, she would have found three more on her back, one on her shoulder, four in her tousled hair, and one on her right buttock. But she had a headache and could not think straight.

'I'm hung over,' she thought to herself. 'Oh well, hair of the dog and all that.' She took another swig. Thus charged with liquid bravery, she flicked at one of the roaches, which was gripping her left breast. She scored a direct hit, and the insect was despatched to the floor. The other roach, which was now crawling across her abdomen, she treated similarly.

She was hungry. She took her bottle through to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Pulling the milk out and setting it on the counter, she grabbed a cereal bowl and poured a mountain of cornflakes into it. As she ate, it occurred to her that she had not eaten the night before. She would have to make up for that by having two sandwiches today at lunch instead of one.

She looked at the bottle, trying to focus her eyes. It was empty. "Fffff … fuck," she managed to say.

She returned to her bedroom, where her alarm was bleeping insistently. She knocked a cockroach off the clock, then pressed the 'off' button. She stumbled around the side of her bed, looking for her panties and bra. She found her bra first and put it on, not even noticing that there was a cockroach nestling inside the left cup. She then recovered her panties, which were full of roaches. The scent obviously appealed to them. She shook her panties until they were all dislodged, then tried to step into them. This proved more difficult than she remembered. She fell backwards on to the bed, and lay flat on her back as she pulled them up her legs. As the panties were dragged along the sheet, they collected a dozen or so cockroaches within them, which Jodie, in her drunken state, did not even notice as she pulled her panties tight up to her crotch.

"Hmm, what shall I wear?" she wondered, opening her wardrobe and staring at her clothes. Her eyes lit on her shortest skirt. "Heh, Dave will probably have a heart attack if I wear that," she said with a giggle. She pulled it out and threw it on the bed, then she got out a cream-coloured blouse and a jacket to match the skirt. Putting them on the bed, she picked up the skirt and pulled it on. In truth it was not that short, its hemline brushing her thigh about three inches above the knee, but Jodie was used to wearing knee-length skirts and this, by comparison, was terribly daring.

The blouse went on next, along with eight or nine roaches that Jodie completely failed to notice. Finally she donned her jacket. It now occurred to her, as it should have long before, that she was far too drunk to drive to work. 'Heck,' she thought. 'I'd better sober up.' She went through to the bathroom and turned on the cold tap. Splashing water over her face, she took a tumbler that she kept by the basin, tipped a cockroach out of it, and filled it with water. She drank it down in one, then refilled it. She had heard that the best way to sober up was to dilute the alcohol in the blood stream by drinking lots of liquid, preferably water.

She looked at her watch. She had half an hour before she had to leave. Could she be sober by then? She hoped so. She continued to drink. Her headache began to ebb, and it occurred to her that she had probably been dehydrated. At any rate, half an hour later she was feeling a lot better, though she was still not sober. She looked around the bathroom. Cockroaches were all over the walls and the floor. The bath contained six or seven. 'I need a bath,' she said to herself. But there was no time now. If she did not leave now she would be late for work.

Grabbing her keys, she left the flat, and hurried down the stairs to the main entrance. The air was cool and there was a slight breeze, which felt very refreshing and seemed to have something of a sobering effect. She got into her car and started it up. She did not feel too drunk now - she felt she could drive safely to work.

And so she did. If anything untoward had happened on the journey, she might have been in trouble - she was not paying as much attention to what was going on around her as she thought she was, and her reactions were rather slower than normal. But the journey was fairly routine, and she reached the office without mishap.

A few of her colleagues stared at her in surprise as she entered. She smiled at them. Obviously they had not seen her in such a short skirt before. As she sat down at her desk, Dave stood up and came over to see her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine thanks," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, not that I mind myself," he said, "but we've got the MD coming around later. I just wondered if you might want to brush your hair before then."

Jodie gasped in shock and put a hand to her head. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I totally forgot to brush it this morning. What was I thinking?"

Dave chuckled. "Rough night?" he asked.

Jodie shuddered. "Like you wouldn't believe," she said. "Anyway thanks for the tip-off - I'll go and fix it now."

She grabbed a comb from her bag, hurried to the toilet and began to comb her hair. A cockroach was immediately dislodged and fell into the basin. She yelped and jumped backwards, then slapped a hand over her mouth, hoping nobody had heard her. 'Oh my goodness,' she said to herself. 'Crumbs, I can't let it loose here - if this office gets infested Dave will know who to blame.'

But she could not bring herself to pick the roach up, and while she dithered, it scuttled over the edge of the basin and hid itself around the back. 'Oh well,' thought Jodie, 'maybe it'll stay out of sight.' She continued to comb her hair, only to find another roach lurking there. Desperately she batted it off her head with her comb, and it, too, disappeared behind the basin. Ten minutes later she returned to her desk, and Dave nodded approvingly when he saw her.

"Much better," he said with a smile.

The Managing Director of Henderson Fabrics was a short Frenchman named Jacques Boulle. He insisted on greeting his female employees with a kiss on both cheeks, though whether this was a standard procedure in French companies or simply the affectation of a dirty old man, Jodie had never discovered. At any rate, she did not mind too much except that he had rather bad breath.

He arrived in the office at eleven thirty and she stood up to greet him. "Hello Jacques," she said.

"Enchanté!" he said, and, grasping both her shoulders, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Then he frowned. "Pardon me, you drink at work?" he inquired, wrinkling his nose.

Jodie blushed crimson with embarrassment. "No, no!" she said. "I haven't had a drink since I left ho…" Then she stopped, realising the folly of her words.

"You drink before you come here zis morning?" he asked in surprise.

Dave, Meredith, Sue, and Roger, the Logistics Manager, were all staring at her with shocked expressions.

"Only a tiny bit," Jodie managed lamely.

"What you do at home in your own time is naturally up to you," said Jacques sternly, "but when you bring it to work wiz you it becomes my business. It affects my business. I will leave your discipline up to your manager, but you should know I regard zis as a very serious matter."

Jodie hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sacré bleu! What ze fuck is zat?" Jacques exclaimed. He was staring at her shoulder.

Jodie shrieked as she looked down and saw a cockroach climbing over the collar of her jacket. "Help, get it off me!" she said.

"Of course!" The Frenchman deftly brushed it off her shoulder and as it fell to the floor he stamped on it with his heel.

"Oh!" Jodie bent to the floor and stared unhappily at the roach's squashed remains. "You didn't have to…"

"Mon Dieu, where did it come from?" demanded Jacques. "I do not run a filthy business where vermin thrive! Roger, call pest control at once - I do not ever want to see such a thing in my office again." With that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

"Good Lord, Jodie!" exclaimed Dave, after he had gone. "Couldn't you have checked yourself over before you came in?"

"I … I…" Jodie began, on the verge of tears.

"What do you mean, Dave?" inquired Roger, frowning.

"She has a cockroach problem at home," explained Dave.

"What? Good heavens Jodie, not only do you show up for work smelling of alcohol, you bring cockroaches with you? And what a day to do it! I think you'd better go home."

Jodie gasped. "Are you firing me?" she whispered.

"No, of course not. Not yet. But you'd better not pull a stunt like this again, okay?"

"I won't! Please let me stay, Roger - please don't send me home!"

Roger sighed. "Very well. You don't seem drunk, at any rate. But shape yourself up, right?"

Jodie nodded and returned to her desk, feeling utterly miserable and ashamed. As she sat down, it suddenly occurred to her that something was not quite right. Her panties did not feel quite as they should. Puzzled, she pulled her skirt up to her waist, making sure nobody was looking her way, and opened up the front of her panties. There were three cockroaches in there, nestling against her pussy.

She screamed involuntarily, no thought in her head but the appalling horror of the situation and the desperate desire to get as far away from them as possible. She jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process, and pulled her panties down away from her pussy. They were full of roaches, and as she continued to scream and jump about in a panic, she managed to kick her panties off completely. The roaches scattered. Then, her senses heightened by a sudden rush of paranoia, she began to feel other insects moving about under her blouse. She grabbed hold of the front and yanked it open, sending buttons flying. Roaches were crawling about over her chest and belly, and she screamed with renewed energy and shrillness. Tearing her jacket and blouse from her shoulders, she used them to knock the roaches on to the floor.

Then she noticed the bulge in her bra, and she grabbed the left cup and pulled it away from her breast with such force that the front fastening burst open. Roaches were by now crawling over the floor, and she jumped up on to her desk to escape them. Seeing no other roaches on her body, she collapsed into a sobbing heap in the middle of her desk, then, as her sense of panic ebbed, she noticed the crowd of her colleagues that had gathered and were now staring at her with open mouths. She opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words that seemed appropriate to the occasion. Her breasts were exposed to the onlookers, as was her naked pussy, since her skirt was by now bunched up around her waist.

"You …" said Roger at last, "are so fired…"

"Oh don't talk nonsense Roger," said Meredith. "Don't you think she's got enough on her plate? Come on people, back to work. I'll sort this out."

As the others moved slowly away, Meredith came and put her arm round the distraught Jodie. "Hush now," she said. "Tonight you'll come and stay with me, Jodie. And you'll stay until we get your flat fumigated, or whatever they do. Just make sure you don't bring any cockroaches with you, okay?" She smiled.

Jodie could only nod.

That evening, over a cup of coffee, Jodie related the whole horrible story to Meredith and Brian. They listened, they sympathised, they comforted her. Then they insisted, despite her protests, on phoning the council the following day to demand that the entire block of flats be purged of cockroaches. Jodie could not help feeling relieved, deep down. Further nightmares in her flat would surely have sent her into a nervous breakdown before too long.

She thanked Meredith and Brian profusely for their help, bade them goodnight, and went to bed. It was such a wonderful feeling to be lying on a clean sheet under a roach-free duvet without having to worry about cockroaches crawling all over her during the night. Contented and relaxed, she drifted off into an untroubled sleep.

Deep in her vaginal cavity, thirty-four egg cases were breaking open. Each contained more than forty eggs, and these were in the process of hatching. Some nymphs had already emerged, while others would not hatch for another few hours. But before the night was over, over a thousand tiny roach nymphs would emerge from her vagina. Some would find refuge in corners of the house in which she now slept, others would travel with her to work, and still others would remain in her hair and clothing until she got back to her flat. Jodie's troubles with cockroaches were only just beginning…

THE END
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