Chapters (15)
- Cover
- Landing Page
- For The Good Times
- Epigraph
- Contents
- Part One: The Swan, In Return
- Part Two: The Best Decade What Ever Lived
- Part Three: Bobby Sands Has Come to Pass
- Part Four: A Word Set Teeth into Silence
- Part Five: The Ocean and the Shore
- Part Six: The Hood of The Snake, what is Miracle
- Copyright credits
- About the Author
- Also by the Author
- Copyright
Did you get my heels? she says to me. I left them for you. Here, she says to me, and she takes out a little mirror from her handbag, have some, she says, and she sprinkles a little magic powder on the mirror. Bam. She leans over and unzips my trousers. She takes my cock in her mouth. She has tight pink lipstick on. I can see it smearing, up and down my shaft, leaving its trail. She hasn’t pulled her leggings up. They’re down round her ankles, round her heels, spread tight. I put my hands in her hair. This smell comes up, this dark shampoo smell. The music is insides, is banging against, is the walls now. Is Roxy Music. Is ‘Love Is the Drug’. I’m going to come, baby, I says, and I pull out and it’s like a shotgun going off. I feel like I’ve damaged myself, like I’ve used up every orgasm promised me by God Almighty in one fevered religious torrent. There’s cum in her hair and on her face. She’s laughing, looking up at me. Now it’s me that’s the prisoner. Now it’s me that’s being spoon-fed. Now it’s me that is set free.
We can keep this between ourselves, she says, can we not? She wipes a little weight of cum from the corner of her mouth. Of course, I says to her. Yes, I says. Yes. Okay, she says. Okay, sweetie. You can ring me. But only at a certain time. We can work this out our way, just the two of us, don’t you think? I think we can, I says to her, I really think we can, I says, even though in reality she is talking to a rubbered fucking jellyfish right now. She pulls up her leggings. She wipes her face and her hair with a piece of toilet paper and she says to me, I’ll leave you to clean up. She winks at me as she squeezes past, that smell of hers.
When I get out of there she’s long gone. Arlene’s crap pal has split the scene. Patrick and Arlene are fighting. Fuck this, Patrick says, let’s get a fucking taxi called. The entire night is a total fucking write-off, he says. On the way home I’m sitting in the back seat and I pull my cock out and I show Patrick the pink lipstick all over it. He lets out a gasp. The taxi driver clocks it in the mirror. Fuck me, he says, you’re an example to us all, my friend. Pat just sat there looking at it with his jaw on the floor like it was an alien come down to earth just to taunt the fucking life out him.
*