by Calvin Wade
“OK, I will. Love you.”
I switched my phone off, stubbed my cigarette out and went back in. The sight that confronted me as I re-entered the Reflex will remain with me for the rest of my life. Michael Jackson’s song, ‘Thriller’ was being played, a song even I knew and my two Grandads were up on one really long table, doing a Zombie stomp and claw walk to the music. On the table next to them, my Dad and his Blue Goblin mate, who was dressed for the part, were on the table next to them doing exactly the same.
“Shit!” I muttered to myself, “I need a few stiff drinks before I join in with this lot!”
ZARA - May 2012
I wouldn’t go as far as to say that Candice, Patrick’s sisters and the rest of the Hen party, with the exception of Lucy, had forgiven me by Saturday night, but at least they seemed to have reached the stage that giving me a hard time was no longer a priority. Candice had asked us all up to her room in The Cheshire before we headed out for the evening, as she had Christened Saturday night the ‘Cheese and Wine’ evening. We were told to go to her room for seven o’clock for a pre-party cheese and wine nibble and to collect our outfits for the night out.
Given the uncomfortable time I had been given during the ‘Baywatch on the beach’ afternoon, I was more than a little nervous about being squashed into a small room with them all. I texted Flo, explaining my predicament and asking her what I should do. She texted back with some simple advice.
‘Only one thing you can do. Have a couple before you go.’
Lucy and I took Flo’s advice too literally. We went out at five o’clock and bought a bottle of white wine each in a nearby pub and stayed there for an hour and a half, chatting and giggling as we emptied them. I thought my bottle must have been spiked when I arrived back at The Cheshire. As I was going up the stairs to our room, there was a bloke in his forties coming down, who was handcuffed to a midget with massive ears, painted blue from head to toe.
“Your room must be bloody freezing!” I said to the midget, as we passed him on the stairs, which set Lucy off with tipsy giggles.
Amazingly, we were up in Candice’s room on time. It was all a bit frosty at first, leading me to whisper to Lucy,
“I’ll be as blue as that midget bloke, if my reception remains this cold,” but as time passed and more wine was drunk, the atmosphere slowly improved.
About fifteen minutes after we all arrived, Sam took Candice into the en suite for ten minutes. When they re-emerged, Candice was wearing the 1980s wedding dress Madonna wore in the ‘Like A Virgin’ video. If you haven’t seen it, the dress is slutty rather than virginal, but after my comments at breakfast, I wasn’t going to be pointing that out. Sam had also dressed her in the bog standard ‘L’ plate but this had been personalised and had on it, ‘Candice Is Getting Married. May Need Some Guidance.’ She also wore an array of penis accessories. A ‘Willy Garter’, flashing ‘Willy Boppers’, clip on flashing ‘Willy Earrings’ and was carrying a 5ft naked inflatable husband, ironically missing a penis. I thought to myself that if Friday night was anything to go by, Candice would not have any difficulty finding one.
As for the rest of us, Sam brought out eleven dresses in cellophane wrapping, each individually named. The outfit was a Union Jack mini dress similar to the one that Geri from the Spice Girls had famously worn. I was a size eight, so knew I would get away with it, but did wonder if some of the bigger girls might resist. If I’d given Flo that dress she’d have told me in no uncertain terms where to go, although the same could also be said of the Baywatch costumes and everyone had worn them. Give them their due, to my surprise, no-one seemed anything other than excited by the prospect of wearing it. Sam also passed around twelve willy straws and twelve pink sashes that simply said ‘Candice’s Hen Party’.
Candice explained that Saturday night, at least until midnight, was going to be the ‘Cheese and Wine’ night as we would all be only drinking wine and only going into cheesy pubs. Sam and Candice had plotted a route which would take in several tacky pubs, finishing with us all going to ‘Reflex The 80s Bar’ on the Promenade. Once again, if I hadn’t been in the bad books, I might have pointed out Geri’s dress wasn’t from the 1980’s, but I opted to keep my mouth shut.
We all headed back to our rooms and half an hour later we were off out. We had a great laugh in those tacky pubs, chatting up a few excited old blokes and screeching along to some old tunes, the highlights being Neil Diamond’s ‘Sweet Caroline’ and Carly Simon’s ‘You’re So Vain’. I also found a quiet moment to apologise to Candice,
“I’m so sorry for my relevation this morning, this morning, Candice. It wasn’t done to be horrible, I just didn’t know who the girls were.”
“It’s OK babe,” Candice said, “I knew you didn’t do it to be horrible. I thought it was just done through stupidity.”
“Oh good,” I said, “Are we friends then?”
“Best friends,” Candice said, giving me a hug. I knew it was a weird thing for her to say, as I knew we weren’t ever going to be best friends. It might well have been sarcasm and she may have hated my guts and really thought I was stupid, but I didn’t care. As long as they were nice to me until they left me on Sunday, it made no odds. I know I’m a dippy cow at times, but I’m probably cleverer than half the girls who think I’m thick.
About quarter to eleven, we finally made it to Reflex. I love eighties bars anyway, as a little girl, I was always listening to my Mum and Dad’s eighties CDs, but I knew I was going to enjoy it even more than normal when one of the most stunning blokes my eyes have ever had the fortune to see, started checking me out from the moment I came through the door. He was a lot older than me, probably mid-thirties, but he was tanned, well dressed, sporty, toned and somehow strangely familiar. I deliberately brushed against him as I headed to get Lucy and myself a drink from the bar.
“You must have been gutted when you came out and saw all your mates wearing the same dress,” he shouted into my ear over Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’.
“Not really,” I said flashing him a smile, “I’m showing them how it should be worn.”
“That’s very true. I believe Geri Halliwell may be calling around later for tips too. The ‘God Save The Queen’ thong is a great touch.”
“Thanks! I brought a massive suitcase and this thong is one of the only things I have had chance to wear, as our costumes have been given to us.”
“Well, thank God I got to see you in this one,” he said, partly distracted by two old blokes, a midget and a middle aged guy dancing on tables. I did a double take.
“Bloody Nora! That bloke and midget are stopping in our B&B!”
“You’re joking. I’m on the big guys, Stag Do. I booked the Blue Goblin, as I’m Best Man. He isn’t a midget though, he’s a dwarf.”
“What’s the difference?”
“No idea.”
The bar man came over to serve me. I don’t think it was my turn, but I was looking so hot, everyone seemed to be falling over to assist me.
“Put your money away, darling,” the Adonis said, I’ve had some luck today, so your drinks are on me.”
“Really? Thank you. Are you OK getting my mate’s drink too?”
“No problem,” dreamboat said, “I can’t believe these guys are up on the tables. They’re quiet when they’re sober!”
“The perils of alcohol, hey!”
“Perils? No, it’s fantastic! So what are you having?”
“Two white wine spritzers, please.”
“And your most expensive bottle of champagne please barman. We’re celebrating. Two glasses too.”
The more I looked at him, the more pleasure I was getting, but there was also a growing sense of familiarity.
“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”
“I was thinking that too,” the beautiful bloke said, “maybe we’ve met in heaven when God was making us a match.”
I had absolutely no idea what he was on about. The fact that I was smashed probably did
n’t help.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re a match made in heaven, gorgeous.”
I giggled. I was definitely in here. We chatted a bit longer then I took Lucy her drink. She too had begun chatting to some bloke. I didn’t speak to her, just slipped the glass into her hand. I then returned to my rightful place. I looked again at him. I definitely knew him. I was a tiny bit disappointed for a couple of reasons. Firstly, because I couldn’t put my finger on where I knew him from. Secondly, I was disappointed because if I already knew him, I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell our children that it was love at first sight. I was then slapped in the face by inspiration.
“Are you from Chorley?”
“I am,” he said, “don’t tell me you are too!”
“Yes. I think I know where I know you from! Are you in the David Lloyd gym?”
“Yes. Is that where we’ve seen each other? I knew I knew you!”
“Yes, that’s it! I love it there!”
I suddenly had a vision of me lustfully watching him on the weights when I was on the exercise bike.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Zara Sunderland.” I said, “What’s yours?”
The ‘Thriller’ song stopped and he gave a round of applause to his mates, “My name? It’s Simon. Simon Strong.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. I have seen you in there though.”
“You will have done, gorgeous but not recently.”
“How come?”
“I’m a bit pissed off with the place.”
“Why?”
“I had my Mercedes nicked from there the other week.”
I’m not sure if I had guilt written all over my face, but I certainly polished off my wine spritzer quicker than he could do nought to sixty in his car.
“That’s awful,” I said, “I hope you got it back.”
“Yes, bloody kids only took it to Botany Bay.”
“Thank goodness for that! Could you pour me a glass of your champagne please, Simon? I really feel like drinking.”
Poor Simon. I felt awful about his car. If I had known it belonged to such a sexy man, I’d have gone to see him. I needed to put right my wrong. I was going to make it up to him and I knew the way he looked at me, he was going to enjoy every second of my apology. I took my willy straw out the side of my knickers, placed it in my champagne, gave him a wink and sucked
SIMON – May 2012
I was beyond drunk. I had no idea where I was, who I was with, what time of day it was, what day it was or how long I had been there. My brain was ticking over on minimum power. I kept waking up for a minute because I was uncomfortable and then drifting back off to sleep. My head hurt. I wanted to sleep for another 24 hours.
There is however, nothing more sobering than fear. I was woken from my sleep by two knees pushing into my back. With my eyes barely able to open, I twisted my neck to the left and it just caught a glimpse of a red rosed tattoo on my attacker’s neck. Shit! It was Luke ‘Boffin’ Booth. I tried, clumsily and drunkenly to sand up, but he pushed down harder on me, pushing my face into the grass. It was night time and we were outside. Why I was on grass, outside, in the middle of the night, I wasn’t sure. It was drizzling too.
“I wouldn’t even try getting up, Muscleman,” warned Boffin, there’s a knife in my right hand and I will happily dig it into your back, if I have to. You have no idea how much I hate you.”
To illustrate his point, he slid the blade across the back of my neck, so a trickle of blood ran down my back. I remembered where I was. I was on my Stag Do in Blackpool. I wasn’t sure how Boffin had managed to get there though. I kicked him off the coach.
“Thanks for the cut, knobhead,” I had never been and would never be scared of that fool, “What are you doing here anyway? Come to kill the rest of the Strong family off? My Dad’s in a B&B somewhere, you’ll have to go back to Chorley for my Mum though.”
“Just shut it, Simon,” Boffin warned, punching the left side of my face with his left hand. It wasn’t particularly hard though. I wasn’t sure whether the lack of force was because Boffin was going soft in his old age or because I was numb from sleeping on the floor in a field, which is what it appeared I had been doing. How the hell I had got there, I had no idea. I could see we were near a windmill, by the sea. From memory, it appeared we were in Lytham. I could remember being in ‘Reflex’ and dancing on tables to ‘Thriller’ with Tim, Arthur and my Dad and then later doing the same with Will and Tim to ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’ but after that, my memory banks were empty.
“Right, Muscleman, I’m going to stand up now and after I do, I want you to stand up too. You’ll need to wake the midget up too. Don’t try anything clever, if you do, I’m warning you, this knife will be put back to work.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Never you mind,” Boffin said.
I went to stand up. I pulled my handcuff to wake Tim. I was aching so much and felt so weary. I needed to summon all my strength to stand up, but I did it as I didn’t fancy the prospect of being attacked by Boffin’s knife. I was just in the process of getting to my feet when the weirdest thing ever happened. There was a crackling noise and Boffin suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. An electric current shot through him and after a few seconds of shaking, he just dropped to the floor. He seemed to be out cold. I presumed he must have been struck by lightning. I looked up to the heavens.
“What the hell is going on?” I said out loud in my deeply hung over, gravelly voice, sounding like a mix of Barry White and Leonard Cohen.
“I just tasered, Boffin,” said a voice beside me, I looked around and a smiling Blue Goblin winked at me, “Now what shall we do with him?”
JOEY – MAY 2012
My luck must have run out at midnight. Saturday was perfect, but here I was in Zara’s en suite at 4am on Sunday morning, trying to give the little chap a shake to turn him into the big chap. I had tried everything, shaking it, talking to it, begging it. I had even screwed my eyes up and pictured Zara in that dress and then pictured her taking it off. Nothing worked.
There was a knock on the door.
“Anything happening, Simon?” Zara asked from the other side of the door.
“No, I can’t believe it. This has never happened to me before in my life.”
“Don’t worry, Simon, we’ve drunk gallons. Just come back to bed and we’ll go to sleep.”
This was so frustrating. Getting into bed and going to sleep when you are sharing a bed with Zara, felt like a defeat, a massive defeat. I gave it another vigorous shake but he looked back at me tired and unmoved.
“I so want to do this, Zara. You’re there all naked and gorgeous and I’m here with my brain desperate to go, but my body on strike. It’s infuriating.”
“Stop making this into such a big deal, Simon. There’ll be other times,” Zara said reassuringly.
The thing was, I knew if my body kicked into gear, I wouldn’t want there to be other times. Zara seemed pleasant enough. There was no question that she was gorgeous and had the best body I had ever seen, skinny legs and hips with an arse better than Kylie’s and tits better than Tulisa’s, but despite all that, she came across as an airhead. If I was going to see her again, she had to have all that but at least a sprinkling of intelligence on top. The day they sprinkled intelligence, they forgot to call on Zara.
That was why I gave Simon’s name to her. This was always going to be a one off. I should have thought of a better name than Simon’s, but he was up there dancing on the tables with Frank and Arthur and I don’t look like a Frank or an Arthur. She would probably find out it was a bogus name from someone in David Lloyd’s gym anyway, but I’d deal with that at a later date. For now, I had to deal with the small matter in hand. If my little bloke didn’t start working, I probably would have to see her again, which was a right royal pain in the arse, but at some point I needed to finish the job I had come here for.
Zara tried to open the ba
throom door, but I had locked it. I have some pride and didn’t want her walking in whilst I was administering life saving operations to my penis. As he now seemed to be dead on arrival, I put a towel around my waist and let her in. Zara was not so shy. She stood there wearing nothing but a stud in her stomach. I could not believe things were not stirring, I mean look at her. My little bloke should have been saying ‘a million time thank you’ rather than ‘I’m tired and can’t be bothered’.
“There is an alternative to going to sleep,” Zara said suggestively.
“What?”
“This.”
Zara opened up the palm of her hand and there was a little circular blue tablet on it.
“What is it? Viagra?” I queried.
“No, but it has the same active ingredient as Viagra, so does the same job.”
“OK,” I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, “I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but what sort of girl brings a penis enhancing drug with them on a Hen Do?”
“Oh, it’s not mine,” Zara explained, “Do you remember Lucy, in Reflex? My room mate, the girl who went back to that blokes? She brought it. She used it last night too.”
“Did it work?”
“She said it worked brilliantly.”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Pass it here then, Zara. I might as well give it a go.”
Ten minutes later, we were on Zara’s bed and her little miracle tablet had done the business. I can’t describe how good it felt. Jack could have used it, instead of the beanstalk, it was that effective. We had been kissing and feeling our way around for a few minutes and I was ready to go to work.
“Have you got a condom, Simon?” Zara asked.
“No, Zara, I don’t need one. I’ve had the snip.”
“I’ve got one,” Zara said.
“Bloody hell!” I said rolling on top of her and kissing her passionately, “Is there anything you haven’t got?”
“An SDT and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Put one on, it’s on the sideboard at the bottom of the bed.”