Synopsis

Tall, broad shouldered and with a stooping posture, earned him the nickname of Neanderthal Man but his computer skills gave him the unwarranted reputation of offering students another way to his labour charges. This led to a conflict with a student who really needed his help.

Neanderthal Man

by obohobo

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

MF Minimal sex

If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.

© obohobo 2010

“Piss off you prick teasing bitch!”

“Piss off yourself, you think you’re God’s gift to women and you have no idea how to treat one. You’re just an arsehole!”

“You’re all take and no give, bitch.”

“Well you haven’t much to give.”

From my quiet corner in the pub I watched the sparring between Sarah Lee, an attractive late teenager and Dave Bignael, a soccer player in the local league. Eventually the barman stepped in and asked them to take their row elsewhere and not to disturb the rest of his customers.

“I’m going now, this is no place for a woman when vermin like him are in here,” Sarah spat angrily, turning to get her coat.

Knowing she lived a mile across town in a less than salubrious area and the last bus had gone, I finished my shandy, grabbed my anorak and quietly followed her. “What do you want, Neanderthal Man?” she yelled when she realised I followed her.

“I’m going to escort you home, whether or not you want me to. It’s not safe for a young girl to be out alone on the Bowthorpe Estate.”

Ten years previously, at fourteen, I’d put on a growth spurt and stood taller and broader than all my classmates, this together with my slightly stooping posture coinciding with a series called ‘Origins’ on BBC TV, earned me the nickname of ‘Neanderthal Man’ or, more frequently these days, ‘Ned’. My unassuming, quiet nature, labelled me as ‘harmless’ to most girls but they only sort my company when they had a computer problem they needed someone to fix without costing the earth.

“I don’t need an escort!”

“I hope you don’t, but I’m here if you do.”

We’d barely entered the Bowthorpe Estate when I spotted two youths lounging against a wall, looking in her direction. I hurriedly caught up with her and clasped her hand, and fortunately she’d seen them as well and didn’t make a fuss.

“Wanna hand with ’er mate?” one asked with a leer.

Standing to my full height, I replied, “Nope, I can manage.” Fortunately my size daunted them and they accepted it and didn’t stop us.

I continued to hold her hand until we reached the door of her block of flats where she quickly released it and with a quick, “Thanks Ned,” fled inside.

Dave Bignael together with his boisterous cronies and a couple of girls, were in the pub when I entered on a Friday evening a fortnight later. I nearly left because of the noise they were making but decided to have one drink and had hardly settled in my usual corner when Sarah arrived together with a slightly older girl, who stood a head taller than Sarah. Her buxom figure and sombre dress attracted my attention but I didn’t expect to meet her. Seeing and hearing Dave, Sarah came to me, “May we join you Ned?” I agreed of course and she went on to introduce her companion, “This is Marion Scott, Marion, meet ‘Neanderthal Man’ or Ned, sorry I can’t remember his real name.”

“Michael, Michael Edwards.”

During the course of the evening I learned she studied accountancy in the local college and expected to graduate in a few months. “That accounts for her suit and jacket style of dress,” Sarah joked. I’d noticed.

Marion’s dark suit reflected her reserved, quiet nature, and I soon found that our conversational skills matched, and only Sarah’s bubbly personality kept us together, at least until a lad came and took her to the pool room, then we lapsed into intermittent mundane sentences. Despite that I enjoyed her company and learned she had a temporary job with a local firm of accountants while another woman was on maternity leave. In turn she learned that I owned a small computer repair business.

We met at the pub on the following Friday and again three weeks later, each time she arrived with Sarah and each time, a different boy whisked Sarah away and left Marion and me together. “I think Sarah’s playing matchmaker,” I commented.

“Not much chance of that.” Marion forcefully dashed any hope I had of her becoming more than a drinking acquaintance.

On the Friday before Christmas, with the pub more crowded than usual and everyone in a festive mood, Marion sat next to me and Sarah left to join a party of friends across the room. I’d had a couple more drinks than normal, and wondered if I dared ask Marion to go to a pantomime with me. With the loud noise in the room, I sat close to her and tentatively slid my arm along the back of the seat and around her shoulders. Her reaction was immediate and unexpected. Abruptly standing, she glared at me and raised her hand. For a moment I feared she would slap my face but she controlled herself, lowered her hand and grabbing her purse said, “Tell Sarah I’m getting the early bus.” I didn’t see her in the pub again and mostly sat alone on a Friday evening because if Sarah came, she no longer spoke to me.

“Hi Ned,” Sarah’s cheerful voice came through on the phone and I rightly guessed she wanted me for something, “Would you mind having a look at a friend’s computer? It’s Carol Simes, and she’s in the same dorm block as me, she’s a student too and I suggested you as you wouldn’t overcharge her.”

“It just went completely dead,” Carol informed me. After a few tests I said she’d need a new power unit that would only cost a few pounds. “Sarah said you’d charge me for the parts but I could pay for the labour in other ways.” She wriggled her body suggestively.

“If you are expecting me to have sex with you, Sarah told you wrong, however, I want to go to the Classical Concert at the Regent on Saturday evening and would appreciate your accompanying me to that. I’ll buy the tickets.” She agreed and I only charged her for the unit. Saturday evening she didn’t show and when I phoned her mobile, she said, “Sorry Ned, Mark came by and we’re going to a disco.” That pissed me off and I resolved never to make the same mistake again.

Mid March Sarah phoned again and I curtly told her. “I’m not taking any more freebee computer jobs for your friends, not when they cannot even come to a concert with me.”

“You remember Marion?” I grunted something unintelligible. “Well she’s in a terrible state. Her computer with all her dissertation on it has given up and she’s only a month before she has to hand it in. We took it to ‘Bytes’ but they said it would cost more to repair than the old computer was worth and that recovery of the data would be horrendously expensive even if it were possible. Please, Ned, see if you can help her. She’s out of work now so she can’t afford much and if she cannot get her data back, she won’t be able to graduate.”

Marion looked fearfully at me when Sarah virtually dragged me into the room as soon as the door opened and I knew Marion hadn’t wanted me to even look at the computer. “If you can fix it Ned, I’ll pay you the going rate as soon as I get a job but at the moment, I have almost no money. I won’t be paying Carol’s way by spending a night in bed with you. Let me make that clear before you look at what is wrong.”

“The bitch! Is that what she’s saying?” I explained what happened and I think in the end she believed me. “What happened with your computer?”

“A week ago the hard drive started clicking so I backed my stuff up to disc but then the clicking stopped and I carried on using it and two days ago, a message came up briefly saying something like POL POT and it all went dead. Screen lights up but I can’t do anything, I just get the blue screen.”

Half an hour later, and after questioning her about the programmes she used I asked, “Do you want the bad news or the good news?” Before she answered, I went on, “The bad news is that ‘Bytes’ are correct in saying this computer isn’t worth repairing and getting the data back could be horribly expensive. The hard drive is dead or at least dying and you have a virus which has taken over your computer and while I could clear it if nothing else was wrong, it’s near impossible now.” The poor girl burst into tears and was in such a state she didn’t realise I had my arms around her to give her a little comfort. “Calm down, Marion, I said had some good news too... but even with discounts, it is expensive.” She looked up expectantly and then wrenched herself from my arms and I expected another outburst but I quickly forestalled it. “Three weeks ago I sorted out a major computer problem at Histon and Mayes and the bill came to several thousand pounds. A fortnight ago Bill Weeks the managing director, called me into his office to tell me that they were going to call in the receivers and would I take the computers from the accounts offices in payment of the bill. As they were all iMacs and had the discs for the programmes, even second-hand they were worth far more than my bill. I’ve sold three and have two left and you can have one with the Mac versions of the programmes you’ve been using for £700. I know it’s a lot of money and you’ve none at the moment, but I can give you a deferred payment option.”

I went on to explain about the computer but she interrupted, “Can you recover my dissertation?”

“I don’t know Marion, but I will try. Until I take the hard drive out and connect it to another computer and run a recovery programme, I won’t know. If I can it will take a long time, at least all night so be prepared to make lots of coffee and sandwiches.”

“I’m going to owe you a lot of money. There’s the £700 and if you work all night at £25 an hour that’s another £300 if you don’t charge extra for night work. It will be a long while before I can find that much money even if I get a job.”

“Because the computer is on my books and my accountant will want to see payment for it, you know what accountants are like,” I teased her, “The £700 is fixed but I’m willing to do like I really did with Carol, and ask you to come with me to a couple of concerts. I don’t know where or when yet, but I’d really like to have a girl to go with, and you in particular.”

“Sorry Ned, I won’t be able to take the time off for a month.”

“That brings us into the summer concert season, so fine. Now start your coffee machine going while I go and get the computer and other things I need and leave a note for Tim, my helper, to say I may be late in the morning.” She still insisted that she would pay for my time but I let it go.

At eleven I sent her to bed, “There’s nothing you can do to help now and I need to concentrate on the delicate task of finding the data and transferring it to another drive.” I did catch a glimpse of her with her hair down and wearing pyjamas as she went from the bedroom to the loo and back and tried not to stare at her attractive figure, a figure I’d only seen hidden beneath her suit.

At 05:30 I lay down on her couch, absolutely tired and wiped-out with the eyestrain and concentration. Next thing I heard was the sound of the coffee machine gurgling and when I checked my watch, it said 10:09. Marion stood at the sink trying to silently wash my mug and plate. “Morning Marion, sorry, I overslept.”

“I’m not surprised, you were still working a four o’clock when I peeped out but you looked so absorbed in what you were doing, that I didn’t disturb you. Breakfast? I can do scrambled eggs and toast.”

After a quick wash and pee, I sat opposite Marion at the breakfast table and explained what I’d done and, to her obvious relief, that I’d recovered her data, “They’ll be lots of things that will seem strange on the iMac but I’ll call tonight and see if you have any problems.” She thanked me profusely and still argued that she would pay me the full amount in due course while I tried to insist that she came to a few concerts with me. She wasn’t totally adverse to the idea but said, it would be in addition to what she owed.

I showed her how to get into her programmes and we sat having a final coffee before I left. “Ned?” she started hesitantly, “Do you remember that night before Christmas in the pub?” I nodded, “I think I owe you an explanation and an apology. When you put your arm around me, it brought back memories; bad memories. That’s what my father did the evening he raped me and the trauma of it went through my mind again. I’m sorry. When I got home, I cursed myself for the way I treated you but couldn’t face seeing you again and explaining it, so I kept away from the pub using work and studies as an excuse. Please forgive me.”

I did, of course and after making sure she knew how to operate the new computer, I left.

“Michael, that classical concert in Birmingham you mentioned the other week, is it sold out? I’ve had two weeks temporary work and have two weeks before they want me again so I should be able to pay my way for the ticket and overnight accommodation if we can get in.”

Since I fixed her computer, she’d decided to call me Michael and we’d become more than friends and frequently now we’d cuddle and kiss but we’d not gone further. For the first month, we’d only spent a hour or so at a time together, most often in the beginning to sort out a computer query but after she’d finished and handed in her dissertation and college finished, we’d spent many evenings together and had been to a local concert but this was the first time we’d go away for the weekend and I’m sure we were both nervous about it but we both agreed we ought to find out if we were compatible and suited to each other.

After seeing a great performance that ended late, we arrived back at the hotel and like newly weds, started nervously to undress each other. However, that nervousness soon disappeared when, after many kisses, we climbed into bed and made love. We did it again in the morning before we had to leave for the journey home. For the time being, we still live in separate homes but spend most weekends together and I suspect it will not be too long before Marion gives up her room and moves into my house. Frequently I think back to the row between Dave Bignael and Sarah and thank them for without that I would never have followed Sarah or been introduced to Marion.

Finis