Pizza delivery is the peak of Western decadence. Not only is someone making a meal for you, not only are they delivering it to your door, not only are they charging you an African’s week’s wages for this, but the meal they deliver is nutritiously bankrupt, a hedonistic luxury consumed purely for pleasure.
I opened the door and welcomed my decadence.
The boy that delivered it drove to my house so he had to be at least 17, even if he didn’t look it. His features suggested Pakistan but his clothes were pure Birmingham, a shell suit and expensive trainers covering his slim youthful frame. We swapped money for pizza, then I looked him in the eye and gave him a night to remember.
“Could you help me? I need a change.”
Pakistani origins or not his reply was pure English middle class, with an accent to match. “Erm, sorry?” he asked, confusion giving him an attractive vulnerable look.
I reached down and slowly started to lift the hem of my skirt. It was short to start with, a simple A line style with a lace edged slip underneath. Watching his face I could tell the moment he saw the lace, his wide eyed gaze flicking in surprise and anticipation.
“My nappy needs a change,” I told him, my sultry voice drawing his eyes back to my face.
I could see him translating that into a context his brain could handle, something he struggled to achieve. He looked back down at my bare thighs, my skirt now high enough to show the stretched plastic that held them apart, slight discolouring making evident the truth of my admission.
He actually stepped back in shock, looked back up at my face. I smiled at him and asked sweetly, “Will you help?”
Next time I’m definitely setting up a camera. The range of expressions on his face would go viral, even if they did end with him visibly exerting some self control.
“I’m sorry Ma’am,” he said, “I’m at work and I have other customers’ pizza in the car going cold.”
I frowned, as much at being a Ma’am not a Miss, vicious feedback that I look my age. He didn’t notice, he’d already turned and walked away. As he got into his car I heard him burst out laughing, a reaction he’d so politely suppressed in front of me. Impressive for a young man, a credit to his parents - but no use to me.
Oh well. At least I had pizza.