by Leesa Harker
After she left, I tried to have a doze but I couldn’t settle. I kept thinkin about Mr Big in my bed an what he was gonna do to me. Then, when I was wonderin how I was going to put the day in, I got a text from Sinead askin me if I wanted to go into town for a bit of shopliftin. She wanted to get some make up to sell on the internet so we went into Debenhams. Those tarts on the counter looked at us like we were scumbags an that just made me want to steal more.
So, we got this girl that was about six foot tall, with bright red lipstick on, a pointy nose an big drawn-on eyebrows. An I got busy askin questions about the Dior sparkly lipgloss while Sinead started droppin stuff into her bag. Now we knew there were cameras there but pros like us knew where the blind spots were. An the left side of the Dior counter was one of them. So the girl on the till knew this too an she kept lookin at the display stand to see what was missin. So, I asked her to do my face up an said I would buy somethin. So she started with the eyeshadow an the blusher an I thought to myself, this is great – free make-over for my night with Mr Big. An by the time she’d finished, Sinead was chompin at the bit to get out of there with her stash. So the girl on the till handed me a mirror an I looked like somethin from the eighties. Black eyeshadow an eyeliner, orange blusher an red lipstick an I said to her, ‘I look like a fuckin drag queen.’
She said to me, ‘You said you wanted an evening look.’
‘I did. But not an evenin with Danny La Rue.’
An this is her, ‘You said you’d buy something.’
An this is me, ‘And you said you could do make up. I’m not buyin anythin.’
So, she stood there with her arms crossed an mumbled somethin to herself that sounded like ‘chav’ an I wasn’t havin that. ‘I’m no fuckin chav. You’re standin there like you own the bloody place. You did me up like a hooker – I could make a fortune tonight.’ Then I saw Sinead stuffin a box a bronzin balls into her bag so I decided to take the huff a bit further to let her nick some more. So I acted all hurt an offended an said, ‘You’ve no right to look down on us. You only work in a shop. A shop! Same as if I worked in a corner shop sellin fags or a charity shop sellin cardigans that smell of piss.’
Then her face went bright red an I saw a crowd of people, mostly women, lookin over an smilin, an I knew they were thinkin the same as me. So I said, ‘See ya. Wouldn’t want to be ya.’ An I linked Sinead’s arm.
Then Sinead said over her shoulder, ‘You have to be a whore to work at Dior.’ An we strolled out of there like two footballers’ wives from Freshfield.
The row was worth it all cos Sinead had played a blinder an nicked half of the stock. She had lipsticks, eyeliners, foundation, bronzin balls – the lot. Five hundred pounds worth, at least. So we sat on a wall up the road from Debenhams an split the make-up in half so we both got a good mix of stuff. We were pissin ourselves about the woman on the till, then Sinead said she had to go to get her stash on the internet by dinner time. An I said to her, ‘We’ll have to do this again, babe.’
An this is her, ‘Big time!’ then she hugs me an heads off to get the bus home.
As soon as I got home, I scrubbed the clown face off me an started gettin ready for Mr Big. I painted my nails bright red an did my toenails too. I had to go next door an borrow Mrs Murray’s cheese grater for the hard skin on my feet cos they were like two pig’s hoofs. I had to tell her it was Parmesan I was gratin cos I couldn’t get the little bits of skin out of it when I give her it back. She wouldn’t notice anyway – she’s blind in one eye. Then, I took out an eyeliner an blusher from my Dior stuff an I piled it on. I got a bit carried away, and I was a bit like Miss Piggy by the time the buzzer rang.
Mr Big kept to his word an there he was, at my flat to stay the night. I could tell from the look in his eye that he had it in for me again an I was glad that I had lubed my arse up with baby oil just before he came. I thought that maybe it would make his big hand slide off my skin an maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much gettin slapped. But when he came in he was all calm. Looked like he’d never walloped a woman in his life. He had a bunch of flowers for me an a bottle of Paris Hilton ‘Siren’ perfume an I couldn’t believe it. Nobody had ever bought me flowers an perfume an I said to myself, he can have me anyway he wants me tonight! But he said it was an apology for psycho Deirdre’s behaviour at the Dole.
Then I said to him, ‘Now, is that the last I’ll hear from her like?’
Then he said, ‘I really hope so, Margaret. But she does seem a bit on edge so I’m keeping a close eye on her.’
Then I said, ‘Maybe I should send a gang down to give her a fist sandwich an that’ll give her the proper message.’
Then he said, ‘No, Margaret. I’ll deal with her.’
Then I said to him, ‘What did you ever see in that whore anyway? She’s no tits or anythin. She’s like a boy with two backs.’
Then he said, ‘She reminds me of my birth mother, Margaret – all my subs do, even you.’
Then I said to him, ‘Here, I’m no sub – you don’t get me in a meal deal with a Coke an a packet of crisps.’
Then he said, ‘No, Margaret, not a subway – a submissive. I was her master. Like the way I want to be your master.’
Then I said, ‘Yeah well I’m still thinkin about that, babe.’
Then he came over to me an started to kiss my neck an I said, ‘So how do I remind you of your mum?’ An I know this is a touchy subject so I am a bit stiff about askin him.
Then he said, ‘It’s your accent. She talked like you.’
I don’t whether to take this as a compliment or not like. But then he started to lick my ears, an I went all giggly.
Then he said, ‘Margaret. I’d like to play with you. Get on the bed and strip naked.’
So I said, ‘You don’t have to ask me twice, babe.’
So I ran into the bedroom an he shouted in after me, askin if I had any ice cream an I shouted back to check the freezer cos I hadn’t a clue. So as I was flingin my clothes off, I heard him crashin about in the kitchen, bangin stuff around. Ice cream? I thought to myself. I’d rather have a bit of man cream.
Then he appeared in the doorway with a big tub of ice cream an a wooden spoon. He had this wicked smile an he grabbed my socks from the floor an started to tie my arms to the top of my bed. Then he lifted my bra an knickers up an tied my feet to the bottom of the bed with them. So I was naked an spread like a starfish an I thought to myself, now there’s nothin straightforward about this fella, there always has to be somethin gettin tied up or what-have-ya. But I was excited too cos after seein Big Sally-Ann gettin rid up against the window, I was moist all day waitin for my turn.
So, once I was all tied up, he pulled out a balaclava from his back pocket an I said, ‘No way, babe. Are you from Belfast or somethin?’ Then he said it’s not for him, it’s for me, an he pulls it over my head the wrong way round so I can’t see at all. Then I said, ‘Fuck, am I that ugly you don’t wanna look at me when you’re ridin me?’
Then he said, ‘No, Margaret. You are lovely, it’s so you can’t see what I’m doing. It’s about control for me.’
Then I heard him say, ‘Oh,’ all disappointedly, so I asked him what was wrong. Then he said he didn’t realise the ice cream was mint choc-chip but it would do as I was tied up already. So he lifted the balaclava up to my nose an put a big dollop of ice cream into my gob an I started munchin on it. Then he dropped a big bit of it into my belly button an it was freezin cos I’d been on fire from the waist down since I seen his arse in those chinos. The ice cream started meltin right away but I was more worried about the fluff, cos my belly button makes loads of fluff an pus ever since I got that infection. Big Sally-Ann had pierced it with a skewer from her ma’s barbecue last summer an it had never been right since. But then I remembered that the ice cream was green anyway, an thought that he probably wouldn’t notice the pus if there was any.
Next he started plasterin my baps in the ice cream an I’m squealin the house down cos it’s so cold it’s
nippin my nips, but Mr Big was just laughin, lovin every minute of it. Then he started to slowly lick it off an I was ringin like Quasimodo’s bell. He was takin his time an I was gaggin for it – I was about to tell him to hurry up when he shoved a load of it on my fan-box. I let out the loudest ‘Whoooooooooo!’ you’ve ever heard, an before I could say anythin else, he was down there eatin it off.
An I said to him, ‘Now, that’s what I call a knicker-bucker glory’ an the next thing I knew, he was ridin me into the night and, while I was lovin it, I was thinkin to myself, where the hell are those chocolate chips gonna end up that are gettin rammed up my quim?
So, after we’d finished, he untied me an we lay on the bed, kissin an talkin. He started talkin about his rotten birth mum who had abused him when he was little – that’s why he had all those scars, an I thought, fuck, he’s openin up to me now. Maybe we will be a normal couple one day an go to Ikea an buy candles an salad bowls. Then I fell asleep in his arms an I dreamt I was Cinderella an Mr Big was Prince Charmin.
The next mornin, I woke up singin, ‘One day my prince will come,’ an I felt like a right dick. So I thought to myself, I’m gonna surprise Mr Big an wake him up with a blowie to make him want to stay over more often. But when I flung the sheets back, his dick was manky, like it had some weird infection.
So I started screamin an he jumped up yellin, ‘What? What? What’s wrong?’
Then I said, ‘Look at your knob, babe. It’s dead.’ An he looked down at it an it was all green scabs an black spots, an he burst out laughin. ‘It’s okay Margaret. It’s just the ice cream. Mint choc-chip? Green? I didn’t wash it off last night.’
Then I said, ‘Fuck a duck. That’s what I call a spotted dick.’ Then he grabbed me, flung me on the bed an had his wicked way with me again before he had to go to work.
After he left, I lay in bed an smoked ten fags one after the other an daydreamed about my Big Fat Gypsy wedding dress. But then I got a phone call from the Dole an was told I’d to go down for a back-to-work interview the next day, an I knew right away that whore Deirdre was on my case again. So I got dressed an went to find Big Sally-Ann to discuss how we were gonna deal with the bitch, an to tell her about the ice-cream shag. I was pissin those choc-chips out for the rest of the week, so I swore to myself that was the last time I would get shagged with mint choc-chip ice cream in my Mary.
Maggie’s Mix Tape
Big Sally-Ann was ragin when I told her about that whore from the Dole gettin me in the shit again. We were round in my flat plannin what to do an she wanted to go an wait for her after work an deck her outside, but I said no to that cos she would get us taken off benefits. It was a tricky situation. So, I ended up tellin her all about the mint-choc-chip ice cream sex instead an she said she was going to go out to get some for Igor cos he would like that, an it would stop him wantin sex in bushes an lay-bys. So after she went, I was sittin eatin crisp sandwiches, watchin Loose Women, when I heard a knock at the door. So I opens it an there is a courier there with a package for me.
An the courier told me I had to sign for it. An I thought, oh my God, it’s from Mr Big – maybe it’s a diamond! So, I ripped it open an it was one of those iPod shuffle things. I’d seen young ones down at the Dole with them in their ears with rave music blastin out.
I got settled on the sofa an read the card an it said, ‘I hope this says everything I can’t.’ So, I turned it on an the romantic had made me a modern-day mix tape. An I was fourteen again. Mickey Ryan had made me a mix tape at Christmas that year with East 17’s ‘Stay’ on it. I was so chuffed, I took his cherry at the back of the KFC. But this was different. It was all the opera music that he had smacked my arse to. Now that’s not my idea of relaxin, rememberin gettin arse walloped. Plus, if anybody in Toxteth heard me listenin to that tripe, my street cred would be ruined forever. An it’s taken me years to build that up too.
So, I decided to show Mr Big how it’s done an made him a proper mix tape on a cd cos I didn’t know how to work the shuffle thing. So, here are the songs I put on it.
1) Britney Spears – ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’
2) Michael Jackson – ‘Beat It’
3) R.E.M. – ‘Everybody Hurts’
4) Guns N’ Roses – ‘Pretty Tied Up’
5) Ian Dury – ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’
6) Culture Club – ‘Do You Really Want To Hurt Me’
7) Prodigy – ‘Smack My Bitch Up’
8) Rihanna – ‘Disturbia’
9) Lady Gaga – ‘Bad Romance’
10) Take That – ‘Why Can’t I Wake Up With You’
An I was dead pleased with myself. But listenin to all them songs made me want to get a wallopin again so I texted Mr Big, ‘Thanks for the i-shuffle thing. I made you a cd too, I’ll bring it round tonight.’
Then he texts back, ‘Wonderful. See you later, babe.’ then I was dancin about like a contestant in the Eurovision cos he called me babe.
So, later that night, I got to his flat an he had the snooker table set up for us to have a game.
An I said to him, ‘Now you do know I’m a hustler, don’t you?.’
An he just smiled an said, ‘We’ll see. I never lose, Margaret. At anything.’
Then I thought to myself, you lost your marbles, babe, when you started ridin that Mrs Robinson, but I didn’t say anythin because I could see that he was in a good mood.
So he took the cd an put it on. The first song started to belt out – ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ – an he laughed an said to me, ‘Very funny. Are they all like this?’ An I laughed an lifted the snooker cue an broke the balls up on the table.
Then he said to me, ‘Now Margaret. If you are being cheeky, you know I will have to punish you.’ An then I bit my lip on purpose an passed him the cue. So, he potted a couple of balls an I thought to myself, he is good, but I was determined not to let him win. So I went to take my shot an I leant over the table to line it up when he came up behind me an pushed me into the table with his stiffy.
An I said, ‘You tryin to distract me?’ An he started kissin my ear. Then I said, ‘I’ll have you know, I won the pool tournament at the pool hall four years in a row when I used to go there.’
Then he said, ‘I bet you did. I’m sure the guys couldn’t take their eyes off you bending over the table like this. Tell me, did you wear a short skirt like this?’ An he pulled my skirt up over my arse cheeks until it was round my waist an said, ‘What a lovely round ass you have.’ An he started squeezin my cheeks. An I just smiled an thought, concentrate, concentrate.
But as I went to pot the ball, he hooked a finger round my thong an pulled it down to my knees. Then he hit me such a slap. So I pretended to ignore it an took the shot an I potted the ball, just as I got another smack. Then, I felt his big tripod tryin to find the Muff from behind.
An I said to him, ‘Make sure you pot the pink an not the brown.’
Then he whispered into my ear, ‘I’ll pot the brown another day.’ An I thought to myself, never in a month of Sundays, babe.
Then he said, ‘You need to take another shot.’ So I went to take the shot an his hand came down on my backside an then he started pummellin me from behind an I missed the ball. But as I was gettin rid over the table, I took advantage of the situation an moved a few of his balls on the table round an snookered the cunt.
So, by the time ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ was blarin out of the stereo, he had me lyin on the snooker table on my back with my skirt round my waist an my top pulled up. My legs were up his front an over his shoulders an he was holdin me down with the snooker cue. Then, after we were finished, he said to me, ‘I think we’ll have to abandon this game, Margaret.’
An I said, ‘Sure. You were losin anyway.’ Then he told me that we were going to take a shower together. So, we trotted into the bathroom an he grabbed me an pulled me into the shower with my clothes still on! An I was laughin my head off as he turned on the water.
Then he said to me, ‘To
uch me, Margaret.’
An I thought to myself, oh fuck, he’s never let me touch his scars or anythin. So, I carefully peeled off his shirt that was stuck to him with the water an he was all right with it. An then I thought to myself, he must love me a little bit. Then he pulled my top off over my head an I took my bra off an released the baps. Then he started soapin my baps up with a sponge an I had a little tickle of his middle leg. Then he went to take my denim skirt off and it was stuck to me with the water. He yanked it, pulled it, twisted it an it didn’t come off. So in the end, I had to lie on the floor with my feet against the toilet while he stood over me an heaved it off me. I decided at that moment that I needed to go on a serious diet. Then he let me wash him too an I thought I might be in heaven. It reminded me of the time Jack painted Rose on the Titanic, lookin at each others bits but not actually ridin. So, after that, we put our clothes on the radiator to dry an went into the bedroom. Then he had me again on the bed. No whips, no chains, no ropes this time. An I fell asleep in his arms.
Deirdre Goes Ape-shit
It was the day of my back-to-work interview with Deirdre at the Dole. So Mr Big left for work first an said to me to have some breakfast an to head to the Dole when I was ready. So I got a cup of tea an a fag an I decided to take a look around his flat. I was lookin in his wardrobe when I saw this black box down at the bottom, so I lifted it out an carried it on to the bed. It was full of details of his past subs. Their pictures, their dress an bra sizes, their contracts, everythin. So I picked up one of the pictures an right enough, it was a dwarf woman. An I wonder if he potted her brown on the snooker table. An I was ragin with jealousy.
One of the women was like a model – all cheek bones an eyelashes an I imagined her an my Mr Big havin a bath together, or in the red room of pain. An then another picture was of an ugly bag an I thinks to myself, he’s not choosy like is he? It was like goin from Pamela Anderson to Deirdre Barlow! Sure she had a face on her that would have turned milk. Then, I looked a bit closer an I nearly had a fit – It was Deirdre-no-diddies from the Dole! So, I shoved all the pictures back into the box an went to get dressed. I was in two minds whether or not to take the pictures down to the backyard an set them on fire but then Mr Big would have known that I was snoopin about his flat an I didn’t want that. Even though I was ragin that he had kept all those pictures an details of his ex-subs.