THE ASTROMATES... Chapter 7...Part 1.

A continuation of my book.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE VIRGO EXPERIENCE

Alex chewed on the butt of a cigar, typing away on his old machine as he listened to my tale of woe.
"Didn’t I warn you about Leo women? They’re a strong breed." he said, stopping the one-fingered dabbing and stubbing out the butt in a chipped saucer. He returned to his machine, saying… "I won’t keep you long, old chap, just typing out the rest of the report." 
Finished at last and putting all the papers together, (How he could tell which page belonged to where was beyond me!), he began reading, tapping at his teeth with a Biro as he chased the words with his eyes. Impatient, I fiddled with a pen and pad till he had finished reading and, with a smile, he tucked the report in the desk draw.
"Something funny?" I asked.
Alex only laughed when disaster was about to happen, to me in particular. His was a warped mind.
"Reading your reports so far is like reading a comedy script." he answered.
Knock-backs and packets of unused ‘Jollybags’ were not as amusing to me as it seemed to be for him.
"Well, better not ask Hugh Grant to play the part, not with all the crumpet I’m not getting." I moaned.
"You could have it if you played your cards right." grunted Alex as he heaved the typewriter down under his desk.
"I was nearly there, Alex, nearly there at the ‘Golden Gate’ when that little brat…"
"Stop it right there." ordered Alex, holding up a hand as if on traffic duty. "You can’t go blaming children now. From what you told me, you brought it all on yourself, spying on young girls in cubicles… You pervert!"
"It was one girl, actually." I said, only admitting that fact, although I still thought children like Michael would end up as traffic wardens, or work for M.I.5.
Alex smoothed some space out for himself on the desk.      
"D’you know what I’ve been doing today?"
Today must be our guessing game day. I might as well give it a go.
"Teaching the cockroaches to dance? Playing with yourself?"
I stopped guessing. The glare on Alex’s face suggested I should not waste his time.
"Okay," I said, "I give up. What did you do?"
"Go on, take a guess."
Alex was really pushing his luck. As a child I had inherited my mother’s sarcasm. Now, as I grew into some kind of maturity, the sarcasm matured into flippancy. So you can understand, when Alex tells me to take another guess, it’s like telling me not to squander the chance.
"Well, today, you first spoke to an alien. Then you began discussing the state of world affairs with the President of the good old U.S. of A. Am I right?"
"My fault for asking you. I should know by now how stupid you can be."
I suppose I deserved the rebuke but it was worth it just to see the look on his face. Taking up a battered old briefcase, Alex drew out a paper and laid it before me.
"Do you know what this is?"
I looked at the paper, a drawing of circles, with lines and lots of squiggles. I shrugged. Seeing as I had not taken a degree in Egyptology, not even a nodding acquaintance with hieroglyphics, I had no idea what the thing represented.
"It all looks a bit Chinese to me, with some Egyptian thrown in." I said.
Alex beamed, as if he’d just gained five ‘A’ levels in Gibberish.
"This, old boy, is a Birth-Chart. It gives insight into ones’ psychology from the moment of birth."
God knows what he was raving on about. Sometimes I wondered if he lived on another planet. And another thing, have you ever noticed how smug someone gets when they start discussing something which is well beyond another's ken? Alex looked at me smugly as I shook my head. It was certainly beyond my ken!
"This, my friend of many years, is what is known as the chart of ‘The Matron’.
I squinted down at the squiggles, knowing I should somehow perceive some miraculous understanding. Nope, nothing came.
"So, what is it?" I asked, giving up.
"This Birth-Chart represents the next Astromate to be dated by one Richard Kimble."
I could read the name and age on the bottom of the page. It read Allison Winstone. Age Twenty-five.
"Twenty-five? I don’t think she would be old enough to be a Matron and, anyway, the position of Matron is kaput, outmoded." I reminded Alex.
He cackled. Alex didn’t cackle often but, when he did, it always ended with a dry asthmatic cough which he invariably blamed on ‘Those damned cigars!’ I went round to his side and gave him a whacking great thump on the back. It did the trick, although he still hacked. Waving me back to my seat, I waited until he could talk. He said… "This is your next date, old son." pushing the chart towards me, watery blue eyes gleaming.
"Meet Madame Virgo." he announced, his voice holding an air of menace.
Staring at the meaningless symbols and scratching my head, I said… "I think you’d better explain."
Alex sat, preparing to give one of his speeches.
"Virgo is an Earth-Sign, practical and capable of doing practically anything she sets her mind to. She is every child’s favourite aunt, a nurse, a teacher, the one others run to when advice is needed. She is the backbone of the office, the one who keeps the files in order, the one who takes down notes and writes endless lists. She, my lad, is the lady who crosses the ‘T’s’ and dots the ‘I’s’."
I listened as Alex listed the attributes of the Virgo maiden.
"And you want me to date this ‘Practically-do-anything’ lady? Is there one scrap of chance, d’you think, she’d allow herself to do things to me?"
"Here we go again with your sex-trivia. I warn you, this girl is not to be taken lightly. She is the face of inscrutability, giving nothing away. Why, even I, who have the wisdom of Solomon when it comes to dealing with Birth-Charts, find the Virgo the most difficult to deal with. She is the master-critic, a nightmare. One small mistake and the Virgo lady will spot it a mile away. She can make mountains out of molehills. She can take a library-book and fill the margins with a list of all the wrong spellings and bad grammar. She can… "
I stopped Alex’s tiradeof dubious looks and knock-knee with both hands raised.
"And you expect me, a man s to take out someone who, from a mile away, can spot a zit on the side of my nose, then advise that I need treatment for leprosy! I think not, in this case."
"But…. “Alex caused me to wait as he smiled with secret slyness. It wouldn’t matter how long he took, whatever he had to say would not deter me from my final decision.
"Underneath all that nit-picking," Alex continued, "All that interfering nature, the health kick and advisory service, your Virgo lady has a passion which, if unleashed, would be uncontrollable."
He had to be having me on! After all he’d said about the Virgo nature, he comes out with this ‘Carry on Matron’ scenario. No, no, no! There was no way the crafty old devil was going to catch me out! But wait a minute lad, think about it.
"What was that about uncontrolled passion?" I asked.
Not that I was taken in by it, you understand, I just wanted to hear his spiel.
"Uncontrolled." was all he said.
Now, you have to understand me. I just can’t help my own passionate nature. I’m riddled with it. Passion goes through me like beef through a butchers mangle, I just shred to pieces! Alex chewed on his lower lip, hiding silent mirth. He knew he had me, like a kipper hung up to dry. He fanned the flames, smoking me out.
"Your natural Virgo lady," he began, "Can appear haughty, sometimes even offish. But the real truth, her ‘Achilles Heel’, is her need to be needed. Every fibre of her being is filled with the need to be of service to others. She is a sucker for vulnerability, an inbuilt quality which has to come out as soon as she feels someone needs her attention. You have to be the puppy with the broken leg, the sparrow with the injured wing. You have to appeal to her nature, convince her of your needs, your problems which need her advice. Once she finds you need her, she will fall over herself, trying to find a solution to your problem."
"What I need Alex, is to dip my wick! You can put a splint on a broken leg, you can mend a broken wing but what about a ‘Wilting Willie’?"
Alex ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
"Listen to me, old chap. The trick is to make her aware of your needs in a subtle way, respectful. If you go straight to the point, that you want a…"
"Bunk-up!" I interjected.
"Right. If you say that, you’ll get nowhere. Be smart. Let her be your guide, your councillor. Let her tell you what to do, what you need. She’ll push you along and, no matter how it sounds, or what she says, she says it because she knows it’s only for your own good. I have already said the Virgo can often interfere. Well, if that’s the case, she may be happy to interfere with you in the way you want."
I was a lot happier now. Why hadn’t the oaf just given me the good bits, without frightening the wits out of me? The picture was clearer now. This Virgo maiden wasn’t a dragon, just a simple girl with simple needs, as long as those needs were the same as mine!
"I’ll tell you this much," said Alex, breaking into my thoughts, "Behind every powerful man sits a Virgo lady. She’s the real power behind the throne. If you want to get ahead, get yourself a Virgo!"
I didn’t hear him. I was drunk on the heady wine of promised passion.
"I will go to this woman, Alex. I will lay bear my soul and a heart which needs healing. She will understand how much I need her, what needs healing."
"I’m glad you said that, the healing bit, because Allison is a nurse." said Alex.
A nurse! That was the clincher! A nurse, one of those soft-armed beauties in a crisp white starched uniform, the strong legs clad in black stockings!
"Where do I meet her?" I begged.
"Slow down, old chap. Calm yourself before your eyes pop. That’s it, take some deep breathes."
I breathed in deeply, calm now.
"Do you know what these symbols signify?" asked Alex, pointing to a segment of the Birth-Chart.
"Anything to do with black stockings?"
I was ignored.
"That is the symbol for Virgo… There."
I looked to where Alex was pointing; it looked like the letter ‘M’ with a handle stuck to its side.
"That," continued Alex, "Is Virgo and, along with the Sun-Sign, also sits Moon conjunct Mars."
Gibberish again, none of it making any sense to me and I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was to get my hands on the nurse and the nurse to lay her hands on me! It didn’t matter what Alex said now, all that chat about Sun conjunct Mars, or whatever. It didn’t matter if that meant Allison was cuckoo, a disturbed maniac, I only listened to my lower regions, my ‘Privates’ conversation. They, in their privacy, were the only thing which made sense to me.
"Alex." I said, "Just give me the details, where the meeting will take place and when, plus, of course, my spending cash."
It was already written down. I took the paper and the cash. Then I was gone, leaving Alex to stare down at the Birth-Chart, nodding his head and wearing a wicked grin.

Two nights later, at the given time, I sat opposite Allison, having my first experience of ‘Cous Cous’, chick peas and nut cutlets. I had not heard the word ‘Vegan’ before, until, arriving at the restaurant and not understanding the menu, Allison had explained this was the most healthiest way to live.
"Never eat anything with a face on it." she had said, after we had introduced ourselves to each other and sat down to order.
Allison seemed rather prim and proper, with black-rimmed glasses and brown hair neatly coiled up into a bun at the back of her head. She had this habit of pushing her glasses primly back up her nose as she jotted down notes in a small black diary beside her plate.
"I like to take note of what I eat during the day." she said when she caught me watching her with raised eyebrow. "One must always seek a good balance when it comes to a healthy diet, Richard. Health has to be looked after. A healthy body is a healthy mind, you know."
I began to wonder what I was up against. She looked more like a schoolmistress than a nurse. Mind you, I could be completely wrong about this lady. Remembering what Alex had said, I stole a crafty peep at her as she wrote, head down, glasses pushed up. Personally, I could not see any sign of unbridled passion in her long pale face. But how would I know? For all I know, she might be a right little ‘raver’ under that well-scrubbed exterior. Her schoolmistress appearance reminded me of a film I had once seen. In that film, the woman had seemed serious and straight-laced, glasses and pinned-up hair, all very prim and proper. Then she slowly starts to take the hairpins out, one by one, till her long silky hair tumbles down her back. Next, she takes off her glasses, to expose smouldering blue eyes. Then, it’s the turn of the jacket as she flips each button, revealing large breasts straining under a white blouse… Whoa, hold on, son! Blimey, when I give my imagination free reign, it gathers such an exciting speed; I need a shower to calm the engine down! Calming myself, I peeped at Allison again as she began to devour a pot of natural yoghurt. To be honest, I could not see her as being the seductive type, not with the severity of her outfit, a grey two-piece costume, the whole posture under control. Still, one must soldier on and complete the course.
"Vegetables are an excellent nutrient," she was saying, "And herbs have been used as natural remedies since time immemorial."
I tried not to show my distaste for the cardboard I was chewing, smiling grimly as the food went down. I tried hard to recall what Alex had said, about the Virgo’s ‘Achilles Heel’, wishing I had paid more attention. Ah! Health! Was that it? I decided to give it a go.
"And all this time I thought that red meat and big roast dinners were doing me good." I said, sitting and waiting for words of advice to start tumbling out.
"As a nurse…" Ah, here it came! I let Allison continue.
"I would advise anyone to stay away from cholesterol and saturated fats. The same goes for sugar and too much salt. Anything to do with genetically enhanced foodstuffs." she solemnly advised.
I gazed at her as she spoke, wide-eyed. She was my mentor, my guide to good health. I needed her! She was my jar of antiseptic, my scent of Germolene!
"Crikey!" I exclaimed, placing my knife and fork down. "I wonder if my diet has anything to do with my bad back."
That was it! Vulnerability, I had to be ill!
I was aware of Allison staring at the food on my plate, then looking at me. I felt like a naughty schoolboy being reprimanded and, picking up my eating irons, began to chew on the rest of the cardboard.
"I do not think a bad back is caused by bad dietary habits. It’s more than likely caused through bad posture." said Allison, nodding at my attempts to finish my meal.
"You should try sitting up straight." she carried on. "I’m always telling the patients in my ward to sit up straight and not to sit with legs crossed. That causes bad blood flow, you know."
I sat up straight, my back creaking at this unused and rigid posture. Could you have imagined being in her ward? I would have hated it, even the thought sends shivers. Imagine it, men encased in plaster, crutches up to the eyeballs, grieving with pain when in marches Allison, the Matron of Spandau!… "Come on, men! Heads up… Crutches down… Straighten out those limbs… Backs straight!" What a pitiful sight. Still, I mustn’t give up. There still might be some sex-action to be had. Softly, softly, catchee Matron. I had cleaned my plate so her smile reflected in it, refusing the frog-spawn desert before letting out a slight groan. The sound had a magic effect on my dinner-partner. With head up, glasses pushed back, sharp eyes inspecting, Allison came round behind me and pulled back at my shoulders so my body creaked even more.
"Sit like that!" she commanded, reclaiming her seat.
I must admit, it did feel better although I much preferred my slump, the ‘Quasimodo’ slouch I had acquired over the years.
"Better?" asked Matron.
"Much better thank you, Allison."
Suddenly she snapped shut her diary and sharpened bespectacled eyes at me.