Guns 'n' Rose

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘So what brings you down here anyway, Caroline? I’m just a poor mug tourist and should have known better.’

  ‘I was with—two friends. They’re staying here. Now I’m waiting for a taxi.’

  ‘You been waiting long?’

  The violet eyes narrowed and flashed. ‘Yes,’ she hissed. ‘And there’s four bloody people in front of me.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the way it goes.’ Les looked at her half sorry, half amused. ‘Well, I don’t want to seem rude, Caroline, but I’m off.’

  ‘How are you getting home?’

  ‘I’m gonna walk.’

  ‘Walk!?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s only about ten minutes. And I want to get the cigarette smoke off me and get some fresh air. I’d offer you a lift but I didn’t bring the rickshaw.’ Norton looked blankly at the blank look on the girl’s face. ‘Goodnight, Caroline. Hope you get home all right. I’ll probably see you around.’ Les smiled and turned away. He’d just reached the corner when he heard a voice behind him.

  ‘Hey, wait a minute.’

  Les stopped for a moment as Caroline caught up with him.

  ‘Hang on. I’ll walk up with you.’

  ‘You may as well,’ shrugged Norton. ‘You could be there all night.’

  The girl stood looking at Norton for a few seconds. ‘Just promise me one thing, Les. Les? That is your name, isn’t it? Les?’

  Les nodded. Hello, here it comes. You’re not the Boston Strangler, are you? You won’t try and rape me on the way home? ‘Yes, that’s right, Caroline. My name’s Les. I’m staying next door to your place and I own the blue Holden out the front. Now what’s your problem, Caroline?’

  ‘If I fall on my arse going up that fuckin’ hill, will you give me a hand?’

  Norton smiled at her. ‘Seeing that you’re such a lady, Caroline, how could I possibly not?’

  They trudged on up the hill towards where the steep grade began. Norton didn’t quite know what to say or what to think. Here he was walking home with the girl next door who was reasonably attractive. Yet there was something about her that seemed a bit strange. Was it her eyes? Her attitude? There was one thing about Caroline for certain, though—she was out of condition. They hadn’t got more than fifty metres before she was puffing and panting. Les was eyes ahead, marching along, glad to be getting some fresh air when he heard a voice behind him.

  ‘Hey, hang on, will you? I can’t bloody keep up.’

  ‘Can’t keep up?’ Les slowed down for her. ‘Christ! We haven’t even started yet.’

  ‘Ohh, shit!’

  They headed off again. It was getting steep now and would get even steeper. But Norton was soldiering along, going all right, even half enjoying it, when he heard a curse hanging in the air behind him. He turned around and Caroline had stopped dead with her hands on her knees sucking in what oxygen she could. Les turned back.

  ‘Come on, Cathy Freeman. You can do it. I know you can.’

  Caroline was stuffed. Her violet eyes glared up at Les in the moonlight as if it was all his fault. ‘I’m going back to get a fuckin’ taxi,’ she gasped. ‘This … is fuckin’ ridiculous. You’re an absolute idiot.’

  Les looked at her while she got her breath back, and had half a mind to leave her there. But if something happened to her or she died from a heart attack on the side of the road he’d probably get the blame for it.

  ‘Listen. Take hold of my belt.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Grab the back of my belt.’

  Les turned around and got Caroline to grip his belt and the back of his jeans, then he took off. Only instead of charging straight ahead he tacked up the hill like a yacht, with Caroline hanging on the back sort of slaloming back and forth across the road. It wasn’t all that hard and Caroline even seemed to like it, swinging away and getting a free ride at Norton’s expense. They made it to the top okay except that by the time he reached the crossroad the strain of his belt cutting into his stomach muscles had Les busting for a leak. He told Caroline to go on ahead while he jumped behind a tree and hosed away in the dark. She was waiting for him when he caught up, still fiddling with the top of his fly.

  ‘Enjoy yourself?’

  ‘Yeah. There’s a lot of ants over there aren’t real happy though.’

  They fell into step. Caroline still wasn’t breaking any records, but compared to before she was belting along like a two-year-old out from the fence. She was even able to engage Les in a rambling conversation.

  It turned out she was a schoolteacher and originally came from Dundas. Her parents had sold the house so she moved up here with a girlfriend who was a nurse when she got transferred to a school at Empire Bay or something. Now she was being transferred to a school at Wyong and she was going to Sydney tomorrow and she’d be back on Friday or Saturday or something. Les told her he was an executive with an oil company in Adelaide and raced BMWs in his spare time. No, he wasn’t married. His career and overseas travel jetting back and forth to America, Europe and England unfortunately prevented that. They nattered on some more and before Les knew it they were out the front of Price’s. Norton thought about inviting her in for a drink, but she still seemed a little odd and it was a bit close to home and if they did happen to get into it or whatever he’d have her hanging around all the time.

  ‘Well, goodnight, Caroline,’ he said politely. ‘That was a lot of fun. I’ll probably catch up with you before I go back to Adelaide.’

  The girl next door seemed to tilt her head for a moment and the violet eyes flashed again. ‘Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Yeah, why not.’ That’s you, Norton, Les told himself. Got a backbone like a saveloy. But it’s not like I’m stuck with her in my place.

  A pathway at the left angled down beneath the house next door to Caroline’s flat; she fumbled in her pocket for the keys, opened the door and turned on the light. It was painted mainly white with touches of blue. Two bedrooms on the left ran off a hallway which led to the loungeroom and kitchen and a door to the back verandah. The bathroom was opposite the end bedroom. The furniture was comfy, if cheap, black corduroy. There were a few prints and posters on the walls, indoor plants, a coffee table, a small TV and a mini-stereo on a set of shelves with some books and a handful of CDs. About the type of place two girls would share to save money. Les had lived in worse.

  ‘Not a bad place you’ve got,’ he said, pretending to admire an old Jimi Hendrix poster. ‘Where’s your girlfriend?’

  ‘Night shift. Take a seat in the lounge while I get out of these clothes.’

  ‘Righto.’

  Les sat down on a small sofa as Caroline turned the stereo on to some FM station blurting out the usual hits and memories leaving Norton listening to ‘Ride Like the Wind’ by Christopher Cross while she used the bathroom and then got changed. This oozed into ELO’s ‘Telephone Line’ and then she was back in a pink and yellow floral dress buttoned down the front and a pair of battered black Kung Fu slippers.

  ‘Getting ready for a bit of Tai Chi, Caroline?’ joked Les.

  ‘Something like that.’

  She stepped back, hissed and threw a snap kick at Norton’s face. He moved his head and automatically brought his hand up as it missed him by a whisker. It wasn’t meant to be funny. It was kind of ‘mess with me and this is what you’ll get, you sexist bastard’. Norton wasn’t very impressed. As well as being a little strange, Caroline definitely had a nasty side to her. I think it’ll be one cup of coffee and out of here, he thought. This sheila’s a cowboy boot short of a linedance.

  ‘You’re a regular Bruce Lee, Caroline,’ he smiled mirthlessly.

  ‘That’s me all right. So how do you like your coffee?’

  ‘2SM.’

  ‘I gotcha.’

  Caroline fiddled around in the kitchen. There was the sound of water boiling and jars being opened while ‘Love Theme from St Elmo’s Fire’ seeped out of the stereo. Then she was back and Norton was handed a mug of coffee that
wasn’t sweet enough and tasted exactly like—cheap instant coffee.

  ‘Nice,’ remarked Les, forcing down a mouthful.

  ‘Mmmhh. So’s mine.’ Caroline sat down on a sofa between Les and the stereo. ‘And why don’t you call me Carol.’

  ‘All right, Carol.’

  They nattered on about nothing in particular with Carol giving Les these strange, furtive looks every now and again as if she had something on her mind besides coffee and small talk. She seemed kind of nervous or edgy and kept turning around to change stations on the radio even though the music was all pretty much the same. This suited Les, however, because every time she reached over to the radio he’d tip some of his coffee into an already sick-looking parlour palm next to the sofa. She turned back, leaving Cat Stevens’ ‘Wild World’ playing, to find Les with his mug tilted back draining the last drop of his coffee.

  ‘Well, that was nice, Carol,’ he said, putting his mug on the coffee table. ‘I might get going.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘Yeah. There’s a few things I have to do tomorrow.’ Les got to his feet and smiled. ‘Anyway, thanks for the coffee.’

  Carol put her mug down next to the tuner and stood in front of Les. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

  Norton looked at her for a moment. ‘That’s okay. I can get a taxi. There might even be a bus along soon.’

  ‘No. I’ll walk you home.’

  Norton gave an indifferent shrug. ‘Okay. Please yourself.’

  Carol left the lights on and they went out the front door with Les leading the way. Well, figure this out, mused Norton as she padded up the stairs behind him. I’m not quite sure what to do here. This tart’s got fuckall sense of humour and she’s definitely not playing with a full deck. But she’s got nice legs and a good pair of tits. It’s a hard one. They hardly had time to talk before they were at Price’s house; Les pulled back the flyscreen, half opened the front door and turned around.

  ‘Well, thanks, Carol,’ he said. ‘I should be all right from here on, I think.’

  ‘You think so?’

  The violet eyes flashed again, and Carol pushed herself up against Les, forcing him through the front door, and slammed it behind them. Then Caroline attacked. She didn’t even wait to get into the bedroom. Grabbing Norton’s belt buckle, she started tearing at it, pulling his jeans down and forcing him onto the floor.

  My God, thought Norton as he lay helpless on his back, it’s date rape again. Carol whipped Norton’s boots and jeans off and Les did his best to stop her by undoing the front of her dress. She had the odd roll of fat but her generous boobs were tucked tightly into a white lace bra and a dainty pair of matching knickers just covered her ted. Norton tried desperately to save his honour, but Mister Wobbly had other ideas and was soon up and away, roaring and ready to go. Carol gave his dick a few strokes, running her fingers round the knob and Les was expecting a nice bit of a polish to start proceedings. Instead she lay back against Norton’s outstretched left arm, whipped off her knickers then got up and straddled him, sliding up and down slowly but steadily. Her ted was warm and firm and a little dry at first. But it didn’t take long for things to start juicing up and proceed along swimmingly. In fact it felt pretty good and Les closed his eyes for a moment as a few tiny shivers went up and down his spine.

  He slipped Carol’s dress over her shoulders letting it catch on her elbows and fall round her waist, then did the same with her bra straps sitting her boobs up in the bra as he licked his fingers and began stroking her nipples till they stuck out like two soft, pink jelly beans. Carol started getting a head of steam up, oohing and aahhing, as she went faster and faster. Then she started screaming, howling and crying as if she was having the time of her life, but dirty on herself for doing so at the same time. It was a strange one all right. But not to Mr Wobbly. All the noise was like music to his evil little ears. Before long he was getting ready to burst his boiler and Norton’s head was banging against the floor. He held her by the love handles round her waist and started shoving up as Carol came down. Carol screamed and howled, her hands planted firmly on Norton’s shoulders as the dark Melrose Place hair flew from side to side while she rocked up and down. Les gave it a few more shoves, then several good ones and finally two big ones, howling himself as Mr Wobbly exploded and Carol drained every last drop out of him. Norton rose up and shook for a moment, then Norton collapsed like a house of cards and so did Mr Wobbly. Carol lay back against his left arm again and lay there shuddering and shaking, puffing and panting in pretty much the same condition as Norton. After a little while Les got his shit back together and gave Carol’s stomach a gentle rub.

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a towel.’

  Carol stiffened and the violet eyes flashed in the soft darkness. ‘No, I don’t want a towel.’

  Without saying another word, she got up, grabbed her knickers, did up a couple of buttons on her dress then turned and ran out the door, slamming it behind her. Norton lay on the floor wondering what was going on, his eyes following her rapid, if somewhat strange, departure.

  ‘Well, if you don’t want a fuckin’ towel, I won’t get you one,’ he called out to no one in particular. ‘Suits me. You could have at least kissed me goodnight, though.’

  Well, what a fuckin’ nutter, Les chuckled to himself. I knew she was off the air. But it suits me. At least I don’t have to stuff around saying goodnight and making more coffee or whatever. But what a weirdo. And it’s right next door. Norton shook his head and started gathering up his clothes. Anyway, I’m having a shower and hitting the sack. That wasn’t quite my idea of a good root, but it was better than a kick in the nuts with a Doc Marten, I suppose.

  Les drank two glasses of orange juice, then had a long, hot shower. He wasn’t quite singing in there, but he was certainly chuckling to himself a bit. He cleaned his teeth and, because Mr Wobbly was a bit sore where Caroline had pounced on the poor little fellow when he wasn’t quite ready, Les rubbed a bit of Savlon-D along the sides. The ointment soon relieved the chafing. In fact, it was better than that and Norton suddenly found himself feeling a bit toey again. Must be all this clean, fresh air he chuckled to himself again. Wonder if I should go and knock on the lovely Carol’s door and make sure she got home safely. No, I think I’ll hit the sack, thanks all the same.

  Les climbed into a clean pair of jocks and a T-shirt, turned out all the lights except the bedlamp and climbed under the sheets. Well, so much for my first day’s holiday up here. I wonder what tomorrow will bring? He was just about to turn out the light when there was a solid knocking on the front door. What the—?

  Norton got up, walked round and opened the door. It was Carol. This time she had her hair pinned back and was wearing a baggy, knee-length T-shirt with Sylvester the cat on the front.

  The violet eyes flashed in the dark. ‘Where’s your bedroom?’

  ‘Right this way,’ replied Norton, closing the door behind her as she barged straight in.

  She followed Les into the bedroom and, without saying anything, threw herself on the bed. Les would have a liked a bit of foreplay; even a little kiss or two would have been nice. But Carol wasn’t interested in any lovemaking. She’d left her knickers at home and all she wanted was a root. Oh well, mused Les, I s’pose I ain’t doing nothing for the next fifteen minutes or so.

  The next fifteen minutes went closer to half an hour as Norton lifted her T-shirt up over her boobs and gave it to her every which way but loose. Carol squawked and squealed, snorted and grunted, moaned and groaned and even sobbed and sniffled at times. It was weird sex and for some reason, instead of feeling any affection for Carol, Les found himself hating her and just wanting to pound her into the ground. He couldn’t figure out whether she fancied herself as the ultimate super screw, or she was some kind of mixed-up, half-baked feminist or whether she was teasing him, laying it on with a trowel tonight and the next time she saw him either play hard to get or ignore him altogether. Whatever the answer, the bottom
line was Carol was nuts. And I’m nuts, too, thought Les, for getting involved with her. This is getting to be a drag. Les raised Carol’s ankles up over her head and like a ten-pound hammer with a fivefoot swing belted out the finale as the girl next door let go one tortured scream that seemed to hang in the air for about five minutes. Though, after half an hour, Les had to admit the end result didn’t feel all that bad.

  Again they lay there side by side in a pile of twisted limbs and sweaty bodies as Norton’s heart settled down and he got his breath back. When he was breathing normally again, Les looked over at Carol, gave her belly a rub and wondered if the magic words would work again.

  ‘Hang on a sec. I’ll go get a towel.’

  The violet eyes flashed under the bedlamp. ‘No, I don’t want a towel.’

  Caroline jumped off the bed, straightened her T-shirt, then ran down the hall and out the door again. Well, there you go, thought Les. Works every time. And that ratbag’s teaching kids. Norton shook his head and swung his legs wearily over the bed. Buggered if I know.

  Les had another shower and more Savlon-D, then changed back into his jocks and T-shirt. He had another glass of orange juice and while he was standing in the kitchen drinking it his eyes moved in the direction of the house next door. Mmmhh, I wonder? he thought moodily. He went through the kitchen closets till he found what he was looking for, went back to the bathroom again, then the front door, then turned off the lights and went back to bed. He was about to switch off the bedlamp for the second time when there was another knock on the door. Yes, I fuckin’ thought so.

  Les got up, opened the front door and there was Carol, barefoot this time, wearing a blue check, hangout shirt.

  ‘Whereabouts is your loungeroom?’ she demanded.

  ‘Right here, sweetheart.’ Les picked up the plastic bucket of water he’d placed by the door and dumped the lot right over Carol’s head almost drowning her. ‘Now, fuckin’ piss off.’

  Carol let out a hideous, startled shriek, spun around and ran off down the front pathway leaving a tiny trail of wet footprints behind her.