Last Night A DJ... (1)


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Mick yawned and looked at his watch. He’d never been much of a clubber, but his mates had dragged him down, yet again, to Paradise nightclub's student night. Why did he let them persuade him? He really didn't see the point. Pay a few quid to get into a noisy, flashy place, spend a fortune on a few drinks, jiggle around to music he didn't like… and then, like the rancid icing on a cake that was already way past its sell-by date, spend more money on a grotty takeaway on the way home.

'I must be old before my time,' he sighed to himself.

As someone who wasn't particularly good-looking and not at all fashion-conscious, Mick usually missed out on the main reason people went to Paradise: pulling. That night – much like every other night he spent there - the good-looking guys and the fit birds ended up snogging the faces off each other. Meanwhile, Mick sipped his last drink, which he had stretched to make it last an hour. He really couldn't be bothered queuing at the heaving bar for another.

'At least i can get home soon and get to bed,' he said, attempting to console himself.

It wasn’t much of a consolation. He’d be going to bed. Alone. Again. Meanwhile, his mates would doubtless be taking some buxom lasses back for a bit of extra-curricular activity. It was hardly surprising; what could he expect, being a maths (yawn!) student, a trainspotter, and a sneeze fetishist? No one knew about that last bit, fortunately. That would really drive the girls away. Not that he had any chance with them anyway, but still.

No matter how bad things were, ever the optimist, Mick reflected that they could always get worse. A case in point: earlier in the evening, he had made an unsuccessful attempt at flirting, mustering up his courage and approaching a pretty blonde lass.

'Er...excuse me...would you like to dance?'

'Er...excuse me...would you like to dance?' the girl's brunette mate mimicked him, 'No-one's said that for fifty years!'

'Aw, c'mon, Shaz. He's kinda cute, in a, like, nerdy kinda way.'

'Just for a bit?'

'Oh okay.'

The blonde then deliberately danced stupidly, showing Mick up. He went bright red.

'Get real! Do you really think someone like me would be interested in someone like you? Get back to your trains!'

The girls had laughed as he’d walked away, dejected, turning back to see a good-looking skinheaded guy slip his arms round the blonde and start chatting her up, as she gazed into his eyes, obviously interested in him.

'Why can't I be like that?' mused Mick, 'But I'm not. I'm a nerd. And everyone knows it.'

As 2 o'clock approached and another thumping dance record came on, Mick gazed at the female DJ, Donna Dynamite, a few feet from him at the deck.

Donna Dynamite was an A-grade honey. Every guy who went to Paradise fancied her like crazy. She was a tallish, coffee-skinned babe with dark hair in little curls, and dressed revealingly when DJing. Tonight, she was wearing a fetching little blue number with sparkly bits. Her pouting cleavage was revealed enough to tease, but not enough to please. Throughout the night, Mick, like every guy in the place, had had his eye on her. However, only the bravest, best-looking guys dared trying to chat her up, and even they got nowhere. Donna Dynamite was film-star material, fantasy fodder, way out of reach for common mortals like those posing in Paradise.

Suddenly, the gorgeous DJ's face took on a slightly surprised look, her nose wrinkling a little, and both her dainty hands rushed up to her face. She let out a sharp, strong, ‘AH-ISHH!’

The sneeze was quite loud, audible to Mick even in the midst of the loud music.

Mick checked himself, 'Did I imagine that?'

A second time, the lovely DJ sneezed, in the same fashion, both hands over face.


'At least I've got something out of tonight!' thought Mick, optimistically.

Those sneezes were now stored in his memory bank, ready to download at any time, and they certainly would be. He moved a little closer. He was eager to capture the whole event, engraving it into his mind for time immemorial.

’AISH-OOO!’ Donna Dynamite sneezed again, this time bending forward with what was a strong sneeze by any standard. Mick got the feeling he wasn't going to go straight to sleep when he got home, after all. ‘AISHOOOO! AH-*ISH*-OO! ISHH-OO!’ Sneezes four, five and six joined the party. Mick was tripping on acid. He inched closer, just as the stunning DJ let out another. ‘AAAISHOOO!!!’

'Bless you!' he said.

'Thank-you,' she replied, smiling, slightly embarrassed, her nose a little red and her eyes a little watery.

‘A-*ISH*-OOOOO!!’ she sneezed again.

'Bless you.'

‘*Sniff* Thank you. You're such a gentleman. It's not often a guy blesses a lady when he hears her sneeze, but I think it's really nice. AH-ISHH!’

Well, if it had worked twice already… Mick smiled and, again, said, 'Bless you!'


As luck would have it, Mick had a tissue in his pocket. He offered it to the stunning DJ.

‘AHH-ISHOOO!’ She sneezed right into it, then said, 'Ta.'

'Have you got a cold or something,' Mick enquired, hardly able to bear the excitement. He was oblivious to anything except the beautiful sneezing DJ.

'No. I find the smoke in nightclubs makes me...AH-ISHHOOO! Excuse me, sneeze. It happens a lot. I might have to stop DJing, actually.'

'That would be a pity...Because you're such a good DJ, that is,' Mick said, hastily covering his tracks. Or so he hoped; what an embarrassing blunder to make…

'Thank you. You're really nice. Not like some of the scumbags you get in here. I'm really not into all that, “Alright, darlin', my name's Mick, wot's yours” stuff. What is your name, by the way?'

'Mick, actually.'

They both laughed.

'I'm Liz. Donna Dynamite's my stage name... AH-ISH-OO!’

'Bless you,' Mick repeated the winning formula, smiling a little, 'It's really not nice when you have allergies, is it? My mum has terrible hay fever.'

'Thank-you,' Liz smiled back. 'So do I. All summer, I'm sneezing my head off.'

'Ah. Poor you.'

Mick was swimming in bliss. Here he was, Mick the nerd, chatting away to an indisputable sex goddess about her sneeze life. And she liked him! Could this night possibly get any better?

Hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck, Mick asked, 'What medication do you take?'


'Sniffleless is useless. Try Stopusneeze. It worked for my mum. She hardly sneezes at all now in the hay fever season.'

Mick silently kicked himself as soon as the words had escaped his lips. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was stop this babe from sneezing. Why had he said that?

'Thanks for the tip. AH-ISHHH!’

'Bless you.'

'Thank-you. I think it's really nice, the way you're so considerate about my sneezing. Most guys don't take notice of things like that. Their minds are only on one thing.'

Mick couldn’t help thinking, oh, the irony!

'Wait a minute.'

The record was fading. Donna's voice came over the loudspeaker. 'I thought you'd like that one. Now let's see you large it to the last tune tonight, 'Technostorm' by Prima Tertia... AH-ISH-OOO! Oh, s’cuse me! Sorry about that. Slight technical hitch. Here's Prima Tertia.'

Liz had passed off her sneeze with a joke, but Mick could see she was a little embarrassed by the loud sneeze she had just blasted into the microphone. He made a comforting noise, but then reflected that she probably couldn’t hear him over the music anyway.

'I'll give you my number.' Donna said suddenly, giving him a blinding smile that nearly took his breath away. Leaning over, she scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it to Mick. 'We'll have to go out for a drink. Only, nowhere smoky.'

The two giggled.

'I'll give you mine,' replied Mick, and did likewise. He could hardly believe this was happening.

'I say to a lot of guys I'm giving them my number, but I just write anything down. But that really is my number. Because I like you. Really.'

'I like you, too,' was all the awestruck Mick could manage.

The pair parted with a kiss, first attempt at which was interrupted by another unexpected sneeze from Liz. It was an innocent enough kiss, but Mick knew from it that more, much more, lay ahead. The thought of all those possibilities stretching out before him nearly made his head swim.

When Mick caught up with his mates, they were anxious to quiz him about his rendezvous with the DJ.

'I'm saying nothing,' he smiled.

'But, Mick, how did you do it?'

'My lips are sealed.'

'Not even a snippet?'

'Well…’ Mick paused, enjoying the eager grins and puzzled expressions on the faces around him. He gave a small laugh, unable to help himself, and then said, ‘I'll just say this. If you hear a girl sneeze, say bless you!’