About one old big shiny trout and his bite

she pronounced the title slowly

before snatching the book from his hands

and hid it under the blanket they shared

while giggling and pretending to fight off

his playful bites and kisses

while their two naked bodies entwined

the Trout Fishing in America

slipped un noticed from her hands

Later they laid in each other’s arms as lovers do.

The twenty something old student of journalism

doing her final prac with the forty something editor

of the independent economic magazine

and single and handsome still too.

She laid her head on his chest

and ran her fingers up and down his stomach. ‘

You’re delicious,’ she said with a sigh.

‘I wish we didn’t have to go to that boring ball.

Don’t you want to stay here with me?'

‘I’m afraid we have to go.’ he replied

already out of his bed dressing up,‘

but we are back again in three hours, honey,’

he kissed her hurriedly while she fixed his tie.

‘That’s a tempting thought.’

She giggled tossing her hair on one side

so he could close the zip on her night gown.

‘You look ravishing,’ he smiled.

‘Have you ever been in love?’ She asked,

running a long nail over his smart sleeve.

‘No, and I don’t think I ever will.’

‘You’re not too old for love,’ she said.

‘I can tell.’‘Age has nothing to do with it. I am not the type.

‘You can’t go through life alone, surely?’

‘I’m not alone, II shared nine years of my life with a woman.

I just didn’t want to marry her.’

‘Don’t you dream that the right woman will come along?’‘

I’m not romantic.’

‘You don’t have to be romantic.

You’re handsome and sexy and tremendously good in bed.’

She giggled into his chest.

‘I don’t rate romantic love very highly.

Perhaps I have a cold heart, I don’t know.’

He ran a hand down her hair.

She was so young.

Life’s disappointments awaited her

and she didn’t even know it.

‘I don’t think you have a cold heart.

It just hasn’t been warmed by the right woman yet.’

He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes

and took her hand,‘Well, come on and meet Mel and her Don,

I am sure she thought once the same about him too.’

He put the two invitation cards

securely into his breast pocket

together with their police clearance

and their job description

and off they went to watch

the most important mani

n the whole world to dance.

The two stiffly figurines were moving slowly

to the very sad music

while watched from every side

by every men and women

who got permission

to see them.

Don flashed his smile around

barely noticing his Mel whole clothed

in uniform gown

of unspecific colour,

it was his time to shine,

she understood.

The editor and his prac student

stood in the first raw,“

There are not too many journalists

among the crowd,’she whispered,

'Well maybe they are Mexicans or blacks

or just refuse to repeat hateful slogans

about the press.’‘And you do?’ She asked surprised.

'Well anything for a bit of fun

and to catch a nice shiny trout,

just like Richard Brautigan would say.’

She looked at him confused,

but he just smiled watching Don

to touch his side pocket.“

Why they dance to the funeral music?

And why on earth he calls himself Don?’

He took her around the waist

so she would stop fidgeting.

‘Because he is old,’ the editor whispered

into her hair finally.

‘And he wants to show Mexicans

who is real boss.’

But she was already trying to catch

what Don and Mel were whispering

to each other

through their clenched teeth

and well rehearsed smiles.

Suddenly the editor put the hand

into his side pocket

and felt the strong grip on his arm

from a security guy.

'Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan.’

She read it out with a big smile

thinking about the love making

smiling broadly on the security blank face.

The editor placed it in her hands,

‘He it not a fisherman,’ he waved at already

disappearing security man.‘

But neither am I,’ the prac student laughed.‘

Well, you are the future journalist so you have to learn

about the world of big shiny fish,’

He laughed and pointed at dancing Don,‘

and also about their fishermen

who just need the right bite to catch them.’

‘Where are they?’ She looked around.
—————————————————————————

In three hours they were back

in his flat as he promised

but lovemaking was not on his mind

and she was disappointed

but only for a while.

‘Do you want to hear what they talk about?’

He suddenly asked and switch on his mobile.

Between the rustling noise of the cloth

moving with the body she could hear clearly,

‘Mel, push your tits up, don’t you know how to dance?”‘

"All eyes are on you, Don, you said I don’t matter

and you are stepping on my toes constantly.’

‘I am fed up with this nonsense, have you memorised

your lines woman, do not muck it up I am telling you!’

More rustiling noise.‘

Yes I memorised it Don, what about your speech

tomorrow?”There was more rustling noise

as Don patted his pocket.‘Who gives the shit about the speech,

I just say the sun is shining and it is time to have some fun.’

‘Hope it is not snowing Don.’

‘I will be the sun!’

Then the mobile got silent.

‘This is brilliant!” The prac student jumped up:

‘’When and where and how?’

The editor smiled taking the memory card out

and breaking it apart.

‘I am just a little fish who knows another little fish,

in Silicon Valley,

there is one smart cookie

who is into listening devices,

even our own Secret Services likes him,

guess his is a new apple, google, uber guy

but on the spying side.

He asked me to try it out

and I thought about

Trout Fishing in America and said why not.’

The prac student suddenly froze,

‘But when Don find itin his pocket then what?’

The editor chuckled: ‘He will throw it out with his unused

speech notes, it looks like a piece of paper

and after the recording

all the information is wiped out.’

“ You could be famous, print it all out in your magazine!’

He laughed at that silly notion, ‘You know I imagined Don

smiling on his own reflection on every shiny surface

he passes

not even realising

he is watched even when he is shitting.’

‘So why?’ the prac student kept asking

impatiently.

The editor pointed at the ‘Trout Fishing in America’

she was still holding in her hands, ‘

That’s why,and also,’ he took her into his arms

and threw the book under the bed,

‘to show you that I am not marrying type!'

‘Trout Fishing in America’ laid silently

under the bed

hearing them to make love, again.

Don, the big shiny trout was still swimming

in the shiny water

of his own making.

And fishermen were waiting

patiently

siting above,

just waiting...