It’s Saturday morning. Oddly the man didn’t even try to frig or fuck me this morning. Not surprising I suppose since we had a very late night out with some of his colleagues; and then on to a casino where we guzzled our way through a lot of alcohol, paying for it with the money he won in the lucky streak he enjoyed playing black-jack.
By the time the evening ended, we were both way over the limit, so we left the car and come home in a taxi. Now he is in bed lying on his back snoring contentedly.
Outside the sun is shining. The cats have gone out to prowl for field mice and terrorize the birds that roost in the trees at the bottom of the garden. The dog is half asleep at my feet, and I am sipping my third coffee and contemplating the washing and the housework that I need to do before my parents arrive tomorrow.
This part of my history has been tumbling around in my head for a few days, and I feel that I have to get it out before he surfaces and demands either sex or brunch.
For those following memoir, this piece follows the one entitled: Please, please, please….
Mary may have had the IQ of a near genius, but she had a real problem remembering the simplest things. The match wasn’t in the morning- it was being played in the late afternoon. So rather than being late, we were very, very early. Which really pissed me off, since I’d originally planned to study and then get in some much needed training in the pool.
She was been right about one thing though – the match was a brutal affair. They were like a couple of packs of wild wolves, chasing each other up and down the park, as if the ball was a succulent joint of raw meat and they were all starving to death.
Two players were taken off, one helped off while he limped, and the other carried off feet first with what we later learned was a bad case of concussion. A few fists flew half way through the second half, although there didn’t seem to be any left-over rancour once order had been regained by the relatively diminutive referee.
It hadn’t rained for a week, so the ground was hard and unforgiving. At half time I saw blood oozing from a few foreheads and noses.
The second half was much the same, crunching tackles, broken bodies and bloody noses. At the end the two teams hugged, shook hands and limped off to recount tales of heroic tackles and count their lacerations.
“Well that’s it,” I said to Mary. “I came, I saw, the conquering heroes have quashed their foes, so now I’m going home.”
“But you can’t, not yet!” she said taking my hand.
“You know why.”
“Forget it. I’m not going to fuck the guy, just so you can get some tonight.”
“You don’t have to sleep with him, just stick around for ten minutes while they shower and change. You wouldn’t leave me all on my own would you?”
“You are not on your own, there are at least seven other girlfriends here.”
“Yeah, philosophy, sociology and art students, what do I have in common with them?”
“Mary, I do believe that you’re a snob. Anyway, what you have in common is that you’re all turned on my the macho violence intrinsic in the game of rugby, and right now you are all wet between the legs, and very soon you’ll all be getting screwed.”
She stated laughing, the sound drawing amused stares from the other girls.
“Yep, that’s perfectly true. Doesn’t it make you even a little wet?”
“Liar. The air reeks of endorphins and testosterone. It’s like an aphrodisiac to our girlie bits. I’m fairly dripping with love juice right now. But I did promise that I wouldn’t let him drag me away for a quickie. Although right now, my pussy would just eat him up and spit out the bits.”
“Stop it. That’s too much information.”
Ten minutes later a lone figure came striding out of the door. Mary gave me a look, giggled and walked away.
“I had a bet that you wouldn’t come,” he said, dropping his heavy bag on the ground at his feet.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Who says I’m disappointed? So why did you?”
“Mary appealed to the minute amount of pity in me.”
“She begged and pleaded, and finally told me that she wouldn’t get laid today if I didn’t at least make an appearance.”
“And you believed her?”
“Of course, I’m gullible that way.”
“She tells me you don’t like rugby or rugby players. Is there any particular reason?”
“It’s not rugby, specifically – I don’t like football or cricket either.”
“Ball games then, or sports in general. But I know that you swim, and by all accounts you are pretty damn good at it. What else do you like?”
“I like tennis and snooker and poker and bridge.”
“Snooker and poker? Are you any good?”
“What at, snooker or poker?”
“Snooker, because I have a feeling that you’d be almost unbeatable at poker. Mary says you have a very special memory.”
“Mary says far too much it seems. Perhaps I aught to have her boiled in oil, after I’ve had her tongue cut out with a hot knife.”
“And you have an imagination as well, it seems; although it does sound a little macabre.”
“You can blame my parents for that; I was brought up on a diet of raw meat and horror movies. And they used to beat me when I was bad.”
“And were you very bad?”
“Yes. And the more they beat me the worse I got.”
“Fascinating… And yet you don’t seem that bad.”
“It’s the cocktail of drugs I take every day – they help to suppress my more psychopathic, sociopathic and antisocial tendencies. I’m surprised Mary didn’t warn you about me. I’m a bit of a mess really.”
“Are you coming to dinner with the others?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve done my duty as far as Mary’s love life goes. She and her present lover will be humping into the wee-small-hours, and I’ll have to listen to her screaming, and the bed bouncing on the wall. So I am going home to put in my earplugs, and hope I’m asleep long before she starts calling for God.”
“You could come over to my place, then you won’t have to listen them. And I do have a few very good joints I’ve been saving.”
“And if I say yes, what happens then?”
“You mean – am I going to try to fuck you?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Probably – but only in the nicest, possible way.”
“In that case, no – I don’t want go home with you.”
“How about if I promise that no matter how out of your head you are, and how much you beg me to make sweet love to you, I won’t.”
“Can you make that promise and keep it?”
“My old Ma brought me up to be a gentleman. Her Godden rule was, never fuck a drunk or stoned chick, I mean woman, unless I get permission in writing.”
“You seem intent on pursuing me, even though I’ve given you no encouragement, and have been quite plain about the fact that I already have a lover.”
“What, only one? Surely there’s room for a second.”
“I don’t cheat. Anyway he’s the jealous type – doesn’t do sharing.”
“Neither do I. That’s why I’m going to suggest that you ditch him.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because very soon, you’re going to be going out with me.”
“You don’t lack confidence, do you?”
“Me? I’m a shy retiring flower; you aught to meet my father. Perhaps I’ll introduce you to him soon.”
“You aren’t going to give up easily, are you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “If I did, I wouldn’t deserve you.”
“But, you don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t I? I know that you are beautiful, and fit, and very smart, and determined, and beautiful-”
“You said that one already.”
“Did I? I think it deserves saying again.”
“Have you been spying on me; digging around and asking questions. Is that what you are, a spy? Or are you one of those guys who like to come to some sort of conclusion about a female without benefit of facts.”
“My, you don’t take any prisoners, do you?”
“I believe that prisoners are an encumbrance, and that they should all be put up against a lilac wall and shot.”
“Jawohl, mein Fraulein. Though, I’m not sure about the lilac wall. A bit too girlie for such a gruesome business”
I tried not to laugh, putting on a stern face instead. “I opened myself up for that one didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you’re cute when you are annoyed.”
“Annoyed? I’m not annoyed. You wouldn’t like me when I’m annoyed.”
“What happens? Do you turn green and split your pants?”
“Oh, much, much worse. And on that note I am going home.”
“Not even one drink – to celebrate our victory?”
“No. Not now I know that your intentions are definitely dishonourable.”
I looked back after I’d taken a couple of dozen steps and he was still standing there staring after me, a sad look in his eyes, his shoulders sagging in a crestfallen manner. I almost relented and turned around, but at that moment the other players filed out of the building behind him and dragged him away.
Anyway, it was just pussy he was after, and there would be a lot of it floating around in the kind of bars they were heading for. He was a charming, ruggedly good looking man, so he wasn’t going to be alone long.
What was it Mary had said about him? “He had a fat cock, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.”
I had been a little wet as I made my way home that evening. And I certainly wasn’t thinking about my fly-boy boyfriend, who I hadn’t seen for two and half months, when I climbed onto my bed and pulled down my knickers and reached for the little black dildo I kept in a box under my bed.