The International Writers Magazine: Guy Block stories

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Round The Block • Mark Cunliffe "Wouldn’t you agree Prof. Block?" Well would he? How the Christ would he know. Guy Block hadn’t been listening. "Prof Block?" The student’s voice broke out across the room once more He’s not giving up.

Guy opened one eye and fixed it on the owner of the query. He blew out his breath and lifted his foot up off his desk before settling it back down again.
"Well" he began. "Well that’s an interesting notion and I think one that would split many academics, what do the rest of you think?"
Bravo! The classroom hummed with voices again, some in agreement, others in disagreement.
Wind ‘em up and watch ‘em go

Block shut his eyes again and made a steeple of his fingers allowing the voices to drown out.
It was a warm Friday afternoon and this was Block’s last class, before the weekend.
A class of first years, eager to learn, the silly sods.
He didn’t know whether to agree or disagree because quite simply he had not been listening. He had given the class a starting point and let them witter amongst themselves whilst he alternated between playing Time by Pink Floyd in his head or fantasising about the sexiest newsreaders on television. From Moira Stewart to Fiona Bruce, but almost always settling on the divine, the wonderful…
Emily Maitlis
The girl who puts the sauce in news-source

She was doing something rather unpredictable with only a smirk and a banana when Block was aware that the voices had started to decrease. He opened a lone eye again and like some suspicious Dalek, scanned the room. The students all looked ready for something. Guy looked up, still one-eyed to the clock on the far wall. It read 3pm. End of lesson
Hoorah!
Guy quickly opened both eyes, threw his legs off the desk and swivelled in his chair, with a cough he announced "Right thank you for today, shall we say the essay on Graham Greene’s anti heroes to be in by Wednesday close of play? Good. Well, that is all"

The room came alive with the sound of relaxed chat and chairs being scraped backwards and forwards. One by one the students left the room leaving Guy in peace as he waited to water his aspidistra. But it would appear to have to wait as Guy could see a small group still hovering in the middle of the room, two boys and one girl in point of fact. Which was the natural equation for the girl in question, Stacie Peebrick.Slowly the two young men left the room, leaving Stacie hovering between her desk and Guy’s.
She wanted something.

Guy knew only too well. Because Guy knew what type of girl Stacie Peebrick was. She was a girl who needed nothing, but wanted everything. A daddy’s girl, spoilt rotten from the day she was born. She was a girl who clearly took English Literature as a degree because she thought it an easy option, and if she was proved wrong, it did not matter, as she had plenty of fellow students of the male variety who would undertake her work for her. They would sit by her and drool at her and offer their lives up to make her smile, but would be easily discarded by her like a used Tampax once she had gotten what she needed. Sex was never on her agenda. Odds are girls like Stacie Peebrick didn’t actually like sex, but they certainly understood it and used it to tease men to get what they want, which would in this case be all the help with assignments she needed to pass, and of course, if she failed her degree no matter, as mummy and daddy didn’t really expect her to work anyway.

Guy had seen them come and go over the years. He’d actually fell for a couple, fucked them, but once bitten, twice shy. Well more like, four or five times bitten…well you get the point.

For despite Guy’s randiness and natural talent at seducing women, girls like Stacie Peebrick had no appeal for him. He preferred girls who knew how to play the game, girls who enjoyed it all for what it was, sex, simply sex. Not girls who would use it to get one over on you, to get round you. That way led to disciplinary action, and Guy had had enough of them. Some were harder to spot, but this one was as obvious as a nun in a tartan hat.

Relax though readers, this didn’t mean Guy Block, famed lecherous lecturer was going celibate, far from it, there was a rather delightful girl who blushed at the mere sight of him in this class of first years, it was often commented that Guy Block had this effect on girls, this natural attractive aura, despite being in his mid fi- fif-fifties
Mid fifties
There that wasn’t so bad was it?
Yes, Emily Stimpson was her name; he was just warming up to her. She was worth waiting for. There was also Jonathan Bates, who was giving Guy the same blushes. Rather worrying that, he had to do something about that. Guy was not, nor ever had been of that temptation. Not even at Public School.
"Prof Block?" came the singsong voice of Stacie Peebrick
Here we go
"Yes Stacie?" Guy enquired as she sashayed her way over to his desk, fluttering her eyelashes all the while. As she made her way over Guy assessed her figure, not bad. Not bad at all. Nice breasts and hips, but even at this tender age, running to fat. He could just make out a snail trail of stretch marks around her arms and the top part of her chest, which she now offered up to him as she bent over his desk. They hung there like two overripe melons, but Guy was on a strict diet.
"About this essay?" she started, looking down at her own cleavage as if to say ‘oh look I’ve never noticed those before’
She was trying to get round him.
"Yes?" Guy asked and with force took his eyes away from her dangling wabs.
"Well, the thing is…" God she was using the baby voice, such an obvious tool in the daddy’s girl kit. She threw a hand to her sandy hair to complete the armoury "The thing is, I don’t think I can get it done for Wednesday. I’m going out tonight with Spencer and Will and Oh David and Glenn too"
Notice no girls mentioned?

Girls like Stacie Peebrick didn’t get on with other girls in Guy’s experience. Too bitchy, was how girls like Stacie would view other girls. Too spot on in their judgements, was how Guy would view the girls who disliked Stacie Peebrick.
"Quite a party," Guy answered.
"Well, you know how it is," Stacie emitted a little chuckle. "You doing anything tonight? You’re welcome to come along?" she asked tracing a finger around her chin.
"Ah thanks but about this essay?"
"Yeah well, it’s gonna be a mad one tonight, and then this weekend I’m going back home, Daddy’s taking me out and then well, I was thinking of skiving off a couple of lessons til Wednesday to well, get over the weekend," she said with a smile as if to say what can a girl do
"I see," said Guy, "Well I suggest you do the essay when you come back from your parents"
"But," she began
"That will give you ample time to have the essay completed for me on Wednesday"
"Ah but Prof Block" she started to moan
"Oh I’m sure you can ask one of your many male lapdogs to help you." Smirked Guy and picked up his watering can from under the desk.
Stacie Peebrick sighed sulkily and stomped off out of the room.
"Oh and Ms Peebrick?" called Guy, causing Stacie to turn and face him. He allowed a moment to watch in triumph how her face had gone from pert and cheery hopefulness to screwed up bitterness "What?" she demanded
"I shan’t come out with you tonight, thank you, you see I’m fucking an attractive young lady."

The door slammed leaving Guy alone to tend to his plant. He could hear male voices outside. The two lapdogs no doubt; asking her how it went, or offering to do her work for her.
Guy Block smiled a winning smile. Today had been a good day, a great end to the week, and one nil to the boys in the battle of the sexes. He pulled out his mobile and accessed his text messages; he read the first one in his received box;
"R U COMIN OVER 2NITE 4 SUM RUMPY PUMPY?"
It read. Really, thought Guy, for a reader in the English Lang dept she really needed to work on her spelling.
Oh yes. It will be a good end to the week.

© Mark Cunliffe June 2007
markbc@hotmail.com

Stumbling Block
Mark Cunliffe
Guy Block hated tutorials.
A long spring afternoon was laid out in front of him with nothing but a depressing wave upon wave of snivelling students demanding his full and earnest attention.
It wasn’t fair.
Love Games
Mark Cunliffe
It was a crisp September morning with the summer sun still hanging in the air, abetted with the nice breeze that signified that autumn was round the corner. It was 1974, and Wendy Lampkin stepped off the train at Hopemouth station
Love Games Chapters Three & Four
Chasing Wendy
She was a phantom of delight
Stumbling Block
Mark Cunliffe
Guy Block hated tutorials.
A long spring afternoon was laid out in front of him with nothing but a depressing wave upon wave of snivelling students demanding his full and earnest attention.
It wasn’t fair.
Road Block
Mark Cunliffe
As Guy Block walked briskly across the windswept concrete square that was optimistically called a ‘piazza’ at an incredibly early hour of the day he knew that what lay ahead for him did not bode well.
Mind Block: Guy Block gets some libido therapy
Mark Cunliffe
Block Out
Mark Cunliffe
It was a crisp January morning at Trenton University.
All was normal
Block Party
Mark Cunliffe
Guy Block knew it was going to be a bad night out.
Building Block
Mark Cunliffe
affaire d'amour

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