Punk and Skinhead Novels Box Set

by Marcus Blakeston

  While he gets the drinks in I look to see what Shaz is doing. The bulge-guy is sitting with her, yelling something into her ear. Shaz is laughing. I frown. All that bollocks she came out with about him being skint, and all along she just wanted him for herself.

  “Is something wrong, Abby?” Alan must’ve picked up on my annoyance with Shaz, so I smile to reassure him everything’s fine.

  “Nothing at all, Alan.” I raise my pint glass toward him. “Cheers.” He picks up his alcohol-free beer and chinks my glass, smiles back.

  I look back at Shaz, try to catch her eye to show her how fucking pissed off I am, but she’s too busy throwing herself at bulge-guy. His arm is round her shoulder, and her hand is resting on his thigh, brushing the tip of his bulge with her thumb. He leans in for a kiss and gropes her tits. I hope it’s just a fucking rolled up sock he’s got stuffed down his pants, it’d serve Shaz right for lining me up with this fat sweaty bastard and keeping the best guy in the whole fucking place for herself.

  I turn back to the bar and try to think of something to say to Alan. I mean, what do you say to someone you have absolutely nothing whatsoever in common with, and who makes your fucking skin crawl just thinking about him? I can’t think of anything, so I just ask the obvious question.

  “So, Alan, have you got any rubber johnnies on you?”

  Fuck it, straight to the point, that’s me. Well it certainly gets Alan’s attention anyway. He stares at me with his mouth open as if he can’t believe what I’ve just said. His face flushes red, his hands start to tremble. He fiddles with the knot of his tie.

  “Um, no. But I could, um, get some from the machine in the toilets?”

  I smile and wink at him, and a huge soppy grin spreads over his face. Like a little kid on Christmas day who’s woke up to a room full of presents, or a twelve year old boy who’s just lost his virginity.

  “Yeah, you do that. And make sure they’re ribbed, yeah? Oh, and get those strawberry flavoured ones too if you can. I don’t like the taste of rubber.”

  I never thought it was possible for a face to go as red as his. I wouldn’t be surprised if his head just fucking exploded right there in front of me.

  “Oh. Um, yes, I– of course I will.”

  I smile to myself as he scoots off to the toilets to buy the johnnies. I lean back on the bar to watch, and shake my head at the comical way he walks. I look for Shaz to give her an update, but she’s not there. And neither is bulge-guy. Great, just my fucking luck.

  Alan strides back. He pats his breast pocket and grins like a fucking loon. “I got them, Abby,” he says. “Where do you want to do it?”

  “Hold your horses, lover. How about another drink first?”

  My head’s starting to get comfortably mashed from the Guinness, but a few more won’t hurt. I wonder if Shaz is having a good time with bulge-guy, whether he’s one of those fumble and shoot types or if he’s one of those fucking marathon-men who last for hours. I hope it’s the former.

  Alan gulps down his alcohol-free beer. I take my time and sip my Guinness, all the while keeping an eye out for Shaz. She’s taking her fucking time, she’s had long enough now to bang the entire fucking night club never mind just one bloke. Lucky cow.

  I’ve still got half a pint left when Alan starts talking to my tits again, telling them it’s time to go somewhere quiet. Fuck it, might as well make my move. Shaz can’t be much longer, surely.

  “Hundred quid,” I say. The look of pure innocent shock on his face is fucking priceless. I wish I had my phone ready so I could take a photo, but it’s too late now.

  “Um… sorry?” he says. He looks at me wide-eyed.

  “Hundred quid. In advance, yeah?”

  “But I bought you all those drinks,” he splutters.

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Um… okay. Just so that we’re clear, what does a hundred pounds buy me?”

  I shrug, playing it cool. I’d been expecting him to haggle, or maybe even just tell me to fuck off when he found out it wasn’t going to be free. But the glint in his eye tells me he’s definitely interested. I give him a coy smile. “Whatever you want it to buy you, Alan.”

  I can practically hear those cogs in his head grinding against each other. He grins and reaches for his wallet, peels off five twenty pound notes and thrusts them into my hand. I pull out my low-cut top and stuff the money inside my bra for safe keeping. Alan leans forward to get himself a good look at his investment.

  “Wait there, I need to go to the toilet,” I tell him. “This Guinness has gone straight through me.”

  He’s obviously not as daft as he looks, because he follows me to the ladies. “I’ll wait for you here,” he says when I push open the pink door. “Don’t be long, will you?” I can feel his eyes burning into my arse as I let go of the door and it swings shut on him.

  Both the cubicles are full, and I have to stand there with my legs crossed so I don’t piss myself while I wait. It takes fucking ages, but eventually I hear a bolt slide open on one of the cubicle doors. Some middle-aged tart with smudged makeup staggers out and heads toward the mirror.

  I’m in the cubicle like a fucking shot. I hitch up my miniskirt and pull down my knickers before I’ve even got the door shut. I don’t bother locking it, there isn’t enough time. I squat down on the toilet and sigh in relief while the piss gushes out of me.

  I look for some toilet paper to wipe myself with, but the bog-roll dispenser is empty, just a cardboard tube to taunt me with. Fucking great. I bounce up and down on the toilet seat to shake off as many drops as I can, then use the palm of my hand for the rest. I pull up my knickers and open the cubicle door. I go to the sink and turn the tap on, rinse my hands under the cold water.

  The old tart is still here, standing in front of the mirror trying to repair her makeup. But she’s so fucking pissed she just makes it look even worse than it did before. She looks like something from a fucking horror movie, and I pity whichever poor sap has to bang that monster tonight. With a final pout at the mirror, she staggers past me toward the exit. Alan holds the door open while she walks through it. After she’s gone he stares in at me.

  “Are you going to be much longer, Abby?”

  I look at my reflection in the mirror and sigh. “Another five minutes and I’ll be all yours, yeah?”

  I splash cold water onto my face and hear the door thump shut. I spin round, expecting to see Alan with his pants round his ankles waddling toward me with his cock out, but I’m all alone in here. I rub the water off my face and shake my hands over the sink. There’s no paper towels, and the electric dryer has an Out of Order sign on it, so I’ll need to drip-dry.

  I go back into the cubicle and lock the door behind me. I put the toilet lid down and sit on it, then take out my phone. I unlock it and prod Shaz’s picture in my contacts, put the phone to my ear.

  It rings out to voicemail.

  I shake my head, hang up, and try again. This time she answers, out of breath. I can hear loud, rhythmic grunting sounds in the background.

  “Where the fuck are you, Shaz?”

  “I’m– ah! Harder! I’m a bit– ah! Busy at the moment Abby, can you call back later?”

  “Are you fucking someone?”

  “No. Ah! I mean yes, faster! That’s it, you fucking bastard.”

  “For fuck’s sake Shaz, I’m ready to go with that fat bastard and I need you to watch my back. Where the fuck are you, anyway?”

  “Ah! Ah! Hold on Abby, I won’t be long. I’ll come and find you when I’m done.”

  “Yeah well tell your fucking stud to hurry up, I can’t wait forever.”

  I look at my phone as it grunts and squeals at me. I hear a slapping sound and Shaz cries out. Her stud moans, shooting his load, and I put the phone back to my ear.

  “Shaz? Have you finished?”

  It’s a while before she answers, and she’s still out of breath. “I’m on my way Abby, where are you now?”

  “I’m in the women’s toil
ets. You need to get here now, I don’t think he’ll wait much longer.”

  “I’m only next door in the gents, I’ll make my way outside now and wait for you there.”

  In the gents? Fucking hell, you wouldn’t catch me doing it in there. Those cunts are just fucking animals the way they piss all over the floor.

  “Right,” I say. “Let me know when you’re outside, yeah?”

  “Will do, Abby. See you, Steve.” I hear a man’s voice mumble something, then the sound of someone pissing into water fades into the background. “Just on my way out the door now, no sign of your friend though. Maybe he changed his mind?”

  I end the call and open the cubicle door. Alan stares in at me. He takes me by surprise, but it doesn’t take me long to compose myself.

  “Sorry I took so long,” I say. I smile and loop my arm through his.

  “That’s okay Abby, you’re here now.”

  I lead him out of the night club and steer him toward the back alley that runs behind it. Shaz watches us from across the road. Her face looks flushed under the orange glow of the streetlamp she leans against.

  Alan stops abruptly. “I have a car just down the road, it’s got a really comfortable back seat.”

  Shit, think fast. No way am I getting in a fucking car with him, he could be some sort of fucking psycho for all I know.

  I spin around and stick my tongue down his throat to give myself a bit more thinking time. Fuck me, when was the last time he brushed his teeth? His mouth tastes fucking rank, like he’s been eating dog shit or something.

  “I like it rough, and I want you to fuck me down here,” I say, pointing toward the alley. “Away from the cameras, yeah?”

  “Ah, okay. Good thinking.”

  He follows me eagerly now, and when I reach the alleyway I glance over at Shaz to make sure she’s still there. She gives me a thumbs-up in reply. I take Alan a few yards into the alley and find a good spot behind a large industrial-size dumpster and pull him toward it.

  He pins me against the wall and gropes my tits while his mouth goes to work on my neck. It feels like a slug crawling across me, and I shudder in revulsion. Alan takes that as a sign I’m ready for action, and pulls down his trousers. He hitches up my miniskirt and smears cock-snot all over my thighs while he yanks at the elastic on my knickers. I snap my legs together and push him away with both hands.

  “Put a johnny on, yeah?”

  He blinks at me for a few seconds and nods. He pulls one out of his breast pocket and bites the seal open, spits out a sliver of silver foil. He plucks the rubber out and grins when he shows me it. It’s bright fucking red and there’s a smiley face on the end of it with the little spunk-bubble forming the nose. It looks like something a fucking clown would wear to an orgy, and I can’t help wondering if it will squeak if I squeeze it hard enough. He sticks it over the end of his cock and rolls it down with his thumb and forefinger.

  Shaz creeps up behind him like a pantomime villain, up on her toes with her arms outstretched at the sides for balance.

  “Is that you Abby?” she says quietly.

  Alan jumps and spins around in shock. Shaz’s eyes drop down to the bright red rubber-coated cock smiling at her, and her eyes widen in disbelief. Alan pulls his trousers up and spins back to me. His face turns the same shade of red as the cock poking out of his fly.

  “All right Shaz,” I say, unable to keep the grin off my face. I love this part.

  “Is this pervert bothering you?” she says with a straight face. I don’t know how she does it. Practice, I suppose, but I know I wouldn’t be able to manage it without sniggering. She must be in a good mood about something if she wants to play this line instead of just kicking the fuck out of him and taking his wallet. It’s been a while since we’ve used it, and I’m probably getting a bit too old for it now, but I might as well play along.

  “No, he’s my fella.”

  Alan turns to Shaz and nods his head vigorously. Shaz looks him up and down with a sneer. Her gaze lingers on his cock. “You do know she’s only fourteen?”

  Alan looks at me and his mouth gapes open. “Um… god, no, I didn’t. Are you sure?”

  “Hey baby,” I say. I reach out for his cock and give it a gentle squeeze. “What difference does my age make? I’ve still got all the right parts, and they’re all in full working order.”

  Alan looks at me as if I’m some sort of fucking monster, and his cock shrivels up. He stuffs it into his trousers and zips up, then backs away from me with his hands held out to ward me off. I bet if he had a fucking crucifix he’d be holding that up too. Get thee behind me foul wench of Satan, or some bollocks like that.

  “Look, I’m, ah… I think I should just go,” he says.

  “Not so fast, Romeo,” Shaz says, heading him off. She takes out her phone and makes sure he sees it. “I should really report this to the police.”

  “No, no,” he says quickly. “There’s no need for that, I’ll be on my way.”

  “We can’t have fucking pedos walking the streets and raping little kids, it’s not right.” She thumbs the digit nine on her phone.

  Alan looks like he’s about to shit himself. “No, please, my wife will kill me,” he whines. He reaches for his wallet and pulls it out. “Look, I’ll pay you anything you want, just don’t call the police okay?”

  Shaz’s thumb hovers over the phone, ready to dial the next number. “I don’t know about that, it’s my public duty to report a crime when I see one taking place.”

  Alan pulls notes from his wallet and holds them out to Shaz at arm’s length. His hands are shaking so much I can’t even see what denomination they are, but there’s a fucking lot of them. Shaz hesitates, and then sighs. A bit theatrically if you ask me, but Alan is too relieved when she takes the money to notice.

  “Thank you,” he says, and turns to leave.

  I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a really fat man run, but it’s pretty comical to watch and I can’t help laughing as he shambles away with his arms flailing.

  Shaz waits until he’s out of sight before she shares out the takings. I don’t tell her about the hundred quid I’ve got stuffed inside my bra, I deserve a bit extra for all the worry she put me through when she left me on my own. All in all, my share comes to a hundred and ninety quid, not bad for a couple of hours work. That’s a lot better than what I make working at the burger joint for a whole fucking week.

  “So what do you want to do now?” Shaz asks. “Back in The Meat Market and get tanked up?”

  I shake my head. I’ve already had enough booze, all I want now is a bag of chips to soak it up and then fuck off home to bed. “Nah, I’ve got work in the morning. I need to get some kip or I’ll be like a fucking zombie all day.”

  “You fucking lightweight,” Shaz says with a sneer. “Go on, one more drink won’t hurt.”

  I sigh. Fuck it, she’s right. Just one drink though, and that’s my lot. After that it’s straight home to bed.

  “Go on then,” I say. “So what was that guy like that you were fucking? Was his bulge genuine, or was it just for show?”

  Shaz smiles and taps on her phone. “God, yeah. I’ve got a photo of it here, see for yourself.”

  She tilts the phone toward me. I look at the screen and frown. Great, just my fucking luck.

  2

  I can’t be arsed going to work. My head’s banging and I feel like fucking shit. My throat’s as dry as a granny’s cunt and my stomach feels like I’ve done ten rounds with Mike fucking Tyson. There must’ve been something wrong with that bag of chips I ate last night, because it obviously hasn’t agreed with me. Maybe I should grass the chip shop up and see if I can claim some compensation, I’ll look into that later. Meanwhile I’ll get my mum to phone in sick for me and go back to sleep. I’ll go in tomorrow if I’m feeling any better by then. If not, fuck it. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. In a minute or so. I’ll just rest here a bit longer first.

  The next thing I know the BBC News music blares up
through the floorboards. Fucking parents, they’ve got no consideration for invalids like me. I think about yelling at them to turn the fucker down, but I’m already wide awake so I might as well get up now.

  I swing out of bed and put my bunny slippers on, then pad across the landing to the bathroom in my nightie. I put my mouth to the cold water tap and turn it on, gasp when the cold water hits me. I drink my fill and splash some on my face, then rub it off with the grimy towel hanging over the side of the bath. I try not to think about where else the towel’s been since it last got washed, some things you’re better off not knowing.

  After a quick shit I wash my hands, put my tracksuit on, and go downstairs. The news is in full swing by now, something about terrorists in Libya or wherever. You know, boring crap like that. Dad’s watching it, riveted to the TV set as if it’s something fucking important. “You need to keep up with current affairs,” he always says when I ask if I can change the channel. Fuck knows why he wants to know what’s going on in the world, though. He never leaves the fucking house, he just sits there all day while my mum goes out to work and then expects her to clean up after him when she gets back.

  He’s a bit of a cunt too, always has been. My earliest childhood memories are of my dad shouting and screaming all the time. He never hit me, in fact he never really had much to do with me at all while I was growing up, but I learnt to hate him from a very young age. It wasn’t until I started school that I found out all dads weren’t like that. I guess I was just unlucky. Story of my life, yeah?

  “Good afternoon, Abigail,” dad says. “So what time did you roll in last night? Or was it this morning?”

  “Dunno,” I say. Which is true. Mum and dad were snoring away when I got home, and mum must’ve unplugged my clock to use the hoover while I was out because it was just flashing 12:00 at me and I couldn’t be arsed setting it from my phone.

  “You’re not at work today, then.”

  “Well duh,” I say, and flop down on the settee. Clouds of dust fly up and make me sneeze.

  “Day off or are you just twagging it?”