Star Fish

by Nicola May

  ‘Princess! Wakey-wakey. The shops won’t stay open all day, you know’

  ‘I’m coming!’

  – Eleven –

  Pisces: A marriage of minds will lead to a fulfilling experience today.

  It had been a bloody expensive lunch hour. Suffering from an extreme hangover, I suddenly felt sorry for all the homeless people I came across in Reading town centre and gave them money. Then I got back to my car and found I had a parking ticket. This distressed me greatly, as one of my New Year’s resolutions had been not to get parking tickets.

  I usually got at least six a year. However I had already paid out £160 since January 1st and it was only the beginning of March.

  I had left my standard note for the attendant saying No change, pay on return, but the bastard had completely ignored it. Well I’m writing to the Council, so there. No one will know that I had no intention of paying on my return.

  ‘Parking ticket?’ Sam asked when he saw the look on my face as I returned to my office.

  ‘Shit Off!’ I tried really hard to look annoyed but had to burst out laughing.

  ‘Maybe you should have a herbal tea, love, it might calm you.’

  I stood up dramatically, swished my hair back over my shoulders and stormed towards the kitchen. ‘I’m getting a black coffee, after which I shall attempt to source a circus tent, so please leave me alone to get on with some work.’

  I really enjoyed my job as the Event Manager in Marketing. My job involved arranging anything from small seminars for twenty people right up to the huge event I was working on at the moment for a thousand delegates, which was to be hosted in a big top on the banks of the Thames. It was certainly going to be a challenge.

  My boss Mr Parkinson was really good to work for. He always gave me pay rises at the right time, praised me at the right time and even bought me flowers on my birthday. Too good to be true, one may think. To be honest I think he fancies me a bit. I have never had even a slight reciprocal flutter in the nether regions, which is a blessing, as I’m not really in to short, balding men with nasal hair and 2 inch thick spectacle lenses. Mr Parkinson is married to Pru in Accounts. She too has nasal hair and thick spectacles, so heaven help them if they were ever to breed, as I think they may actually produce a mole.

  Before I set about the task of looking for a big top supplier, I thought I’d take a quick look for pond websites to get some hints and tips on cleaning out my pond without killing the tadpoles. Amazingly, there were loads of them. I started to have a bout of hysteria when I came across not only Frank’s Pond Page but also Bert’s Pond Life, both outlining in great detail, with pictures, how these poor sad blokes had built their ponds step by step.

  I was relieved from my mirth by a familiar number flashing up on my phone monitor.

  ‘Event Slut helpline!’ I trilled.

  ‘Whatcha doing later, Minger?’ Liv asked. She only sat about ten feet from my desk but we always rang each other to save shouting our business across the office.

  ‘Well, amazingly my friend, I’m not out on a date so do you fancy doing something?’ ‘Well…’ Olivia hesitated.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Spit it out, Liv.’

  ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

  ‘Don’t have to what?’

  ‘I’ve roped myself in to going on one of those dinner-date things. Everyone is single and you basically have dinner and then mingle with the guests. If you get on, then fine – if you don’t, well same as with you with your astrology dates. You don’t have to see them ever again.’

  ‘Fab. So do I take it there is a space then?’

  ‘Yeah. The woman who runs it has just called to say there has been a dropout and did I know any nice eligible young ladies to come along instead? I said, sadly no – but I knew you.’

  ‘Ha bloody ha. Just let me know where I have to be and when, my love. What a laugh!’

  ‘Oh, and Ames, don’t forget I’m cooking you a sumptuous feast for your birthday next week.’

  ‘Forget that? It would be like forgetting Christmas!’

  The changing of the guard at Windsor Castle always gives me a little bit of a tingle, don’t know why really. It’s not even anything to do with all those uniforms. Maybe it’s just the noise and extravaganza.

  I was sitting in the reception of the Royal Hotel waiting for Carl. It was hectic there, I can tell you. The hubble-bubble of excited tourists with all their different spatterings of language could be heard above the bang, bang of the soldiers’ drums. The Saturday morning shoppers were rushing around wishing the tourists would get out of their way and here I was, Amy Jane Anderson, slightly nervous, looking resplendent in bright blue (my favourite colour) on yet another date.

  ‘Amy Anderson?’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘How ya doing, chick? Like the funky dress.’

  ‘Thanks. I was worried you might not see me amongst this lot.’

  I pointed to a busload of Chinese tourists who had just congregated in the reception area.

  ‘In that dress?’ Carl laughed.

  He wasn’t bad-looking. He was a true likeness to his photo – Cordelia hadn’t had to touch him up much. His shoulder-length dark hair suited him and his brown eyes could have been transplanted straight from a deer. He was, however, wearing a cringeworthy red shirt with big white flowers on that clashed dreadfully with my dress. He was also wearing baggy jeans, to a wedding! Only his shoes redeemed him in the fact that they were black Doc Martens. I had a thing for men in Doc Martens, a teenage fetish kind of thing. What did put me off, however, were his sideburns, which were long and trimmed to a sharp point, almost down to his mouth.

  Carl was a trendy young dude in my books. A toy boy at twenty-nine as well, which was nice. I’ve always liked younger men – which I feel has possibly been to my detriment in the settling-down stakes. I once spent a fantastic night with a lad eight years my junior whom I met in Lanzarote. I was visiting my mate Katie and her Ice Man (he delivered ice to bars in his special refrigerated truck) and we decided to hit the town. Me being the ultimate party animal, we always had to go to what I called ‘the red-light district’ of Puerto del Carmen. It’s basically one of those awful holiday bar areas, with the even more awful PRs who drag you in off the street for your free glass of camel pee.

  Anyway, it got to around 3 a.m. and Ice Man decided we should go to Charlie’s Bar to meet up with some staff from a Scottish bar that had just closed for the night.

  I staggered along and was immediately thrilled as firstly a live band was playing and secondly sitting in the crowd that Ice Man was moving towards was a vision of loveliness.

  Tom was cute; he had a wide smile with beautiful teeth. I love perfect teeth. He had blond hair with a floppy fringe and a fit, brown body, emphasised by the tight white T-shirt he was wearing. He had a silver dolphin earring in his left ear and when he threw his head back to laugh, I spotted a stud in his tongue. I found this instantly erotic. The seven rum and Cokes I had had in the sea-front cocktail bar had made me very brave. Without any introduction I was over to Tom like a shot.

  ‘Hi, there. I’m Amy and I’m staying with my mate Katie for a long weekend.’

  ‘Hi there. Great to meet you. Your tan’s coming along well.’ He smiled his big white smile and then with no warning took my hand and kissed it. I could actually feel a tingle run right through my body. Not just because of his touch, but the soft Scottish accent had nearly the same effect on me as an Irish one.

  ‘So I take it you work out here then?’ I asked rather hoarsely.

  ‘Yeah, I work in the Scots Bar. Been here with a couple of my mates since we left university.

  ‘Lucky you. I could do with waking up every day and being able to walk to that beautiful beach.’

  ‘I don’t go down to the beach that much, actually. In fact, I’ve only been down there about five times. I rarely get to bed before dawn – I get up late afterno
on, eat, maybe lie on my balcony for an hour, then it’s back to work, party hard and off to bed again.’

  ‘So why do it?’

  ‘I love the buzz of it all and I do get a day off a week. If you do want to slow the pace you can go into the mountains and it beats being in the rain at home.’ He then smiled and looked at me with his piercing green eyes. ‘I also get the chance to meet pretty girls like you.’

  ‘Tequila slammers for all!’ Katie was off and running. I had a feeling this would be a long night. Three slammers later, I was so full of alcohol I felt like I was actually drinking myself sober.

  My lustometer was almost off the scale. There is something about the sun and sea that makes me feel very horny, and all I wanted to do was grab Tom right here in this crowded bar and snog his face off. Instead I came out meekly at first with, ‘If you don’t mind me asking Tom, how old are you?’

  ‘I was twenty-two on May the twenty-fourth. How about you?’

  I screwed my face up. ‘I’m thirty, actually.’

  ‘Fantastic! So we’re both at our peaks, I reckon. Where did you say you were staying tonight?’

  He was a Gemini; hallelujah, we could sleep on the beach for all I cared!

  We decided to move on to Dreams nightclub after Charlie’s Bar. Katie and Ice Man had to leave – well, were asked to leave as Katie thought she was dancing on a table but she was actually dancing on a bouncer who had bent down to look for a missing handbag.

  Katie shouting across the dance floor ‘Go for your life, Ames!’ did not deter Tom.

  In fact, it inspired him to grab me firmly and press his lips to mine. Oh my God, what a kisser. I thought I was going to melt against his lips, so moist and warm, and then I suddenly felt something hard and cold! I was just about to scream when I realised that it was his tongue stud.

  Once I got the hang of it being there, I can honestly say I have never kissed anyone so sexy in my whole life. It was like some sort of tongue challenge; all I wanted to do was sort of suck it and kiss at the same time. He probably thought he was kissing a fish but I didn’t care.

  We practically ran back to Katie’s apartment. I pulled out the sofa bed in the lounge and started to rip my clothes off. Tom’s body was amazing. His muscles were really defined, accentuated by his golden tan. His skin was smooth and taut. I was quite scared that I might come just kissing him, so instead I started to kiss him from his toes upwards.

  He had a Questful penis, to be sure. He was standing proud and I just had to have him inside of me. I then teased him slightly by blowing on him until he pulled me towards him.

  ‘Amy, you are completely gorgeous. I want you so badly.’

  I felt so, so good. I was brown, I was wearing my best white lacy g-string and I had remembered to spray John Paul Gaultier in all the right places. I have to say my head was swimming slightly with all the tequila, but it was also feeling fuzzy with desire. I could hear the sound of the waves on the beach in the background. This was just so fantastic.

  ‘Shit – condom,’ Tom murmured.

  For some strange reason Katie had left a condom on the kitchen worktop. I had spotted it earlier and thought it must be fate that this was all so organised.

  ‘Quick, give it here. I have to have you right now.’ He tore open the gold wrapper and then started laughing heartily.

  ‘What’s up?’ I was quivering with desire now and in no mood for laughing.

  ‘Don’t think this will have quite the desired effect.’ He giggled as he held up a mosquito repellent tablet.

  ‘Shit, shit, how embarrassing. Sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK – we’ll just have to be careful.’

  ‘Let me just check in the bathroom first.’

  ‘Hurry up then.’

  I had a quick wee and rifled through Katie’s bathroom cabinet. Fate again – I found an in-date Durex and ran back into the lounge.

  ‘Drum roll, please. Tom and Amy can have it off right now!’

  No response.

  ‘Tom?’

  Tom was lying on his back snoring. I kissed his beautiful lips and then put my fingers under the covers so I could touch myself. I was so aroused and just had to come.

  I fantasised about Tom pushing hard into me against a rock on the beach and fell asleep feeling completely satisfied.

  ‘Amy, are you OK?’

  ‘Sorry, Carl. I blinked and came back to the present. So where’s this wedding then?’

  ‘Upstairs, actually. They are having a civil ceremony and the evening do here as well.’

  ‘Great, so what are we waiting for?’

  ‘I say that we have a cheeky glass of champagne and then go for a walk by the river as the wedding doesn’t start until three.’

  ‘Three!’ H and I had really rushed to make me look magnificent and I could have had an extra few hours to do so. Carl, the ever-sensitive Piscean, saw the look on my face. ‘Sorry if this isn’t OK with you, Amy. I just thought that it’s so cool by the river here and it would give us a chance to chat and get to know each other better.’

  ‘That is just so sweet. Of course I’m fine – champagne it is.’

  The fact it was early March and there was a biting wind did not deter Carl. For reasons of vanity I hadn’t put on my thick winter coat; instead I had just madly thrown a woollen pashmina over my shoulders. Luckily the two glasses of champagne we had just swigged in the bar were giving me some slight alcoholic warmth.

  ‘Babe, sorry – I didn’t think. You must be freezing. Put my coat on.’

  ‘No, it’s my fault for being so vain. I’ll be fine, we just need to walk faster, that’s all.’

  ‘I tell you what, Amy. We’ve seen some swans, we’ve had some fresh air, why don’t we give up on this river bit and find a nice warm pub to sit in?’

  I think he must have heard my huge sigh of relief.

  Two gin and tonics, a rum and Coke and a cheeseburger later I was beginning to feel fantastic.

  ‘Amy, you really are such a beautiful fish I can’t believe that no one has caught you yet.’

  ‘You’re making me blush,’ I told him ‘ and you’re not so bad yourself. Now tell me, if you were really a fish, would you be a shark or a minnow?’

  Carl was undeterred by this strange question. ‘A minnow, I reckon. I’m too nice to be a shark.’

  Good job Liv wasn’t here, as she would be raising her eyebrows. This was my favourite getting to know someone game. Once I started, that was it – I could go on for hours. The other player always seemed to respond with gusto so I guessed it couldn’t be too boring.

  ‘Black or white?’ I continued.

  ‘It has to be black.’

  Fab, Carl was obviously on my wavelength.

  ‘Sweet or sour?’

  ‘Oh sweet, definitely.’ ‘You?’

  ‘Yes, sweet as well.’

  This made me think of a birthday treat that my mum and dad took me on when I was about twelve years old. We went to a really lovely restaurant, which was renowned for its puddings. The sweet trolley came round and Dad had said. ‘It’s her birthday, you know. Give her a bit of everything.’

  I had eleven different puddings on one plate – cheesecake, Pavlova, lemon meringue pie, chocolate brownies, the full works. This was the first and only time I have ever been sick in a public place, all over the next table. Needless to say, we never went back there. Anna still finds great joy in ribbing me over this.

  ‘Now Ms Anderson, I don’t think you can always be the question master. Brandy or vodka?’ Carl teased.

  ‘Ergh, I don’t like either, but if it was the only alcohol left in the world I would say brandy.’

  ‘Roses or carnations?’

  Bless Carl, only a Piscean would be so sweet.

  ‘Oh, roses for sure and they have to be yellow.’

  ‘Yellow roses? That’s a new one on me.’

  ‘OK, Mr Peters, how about a hug or a kiss?’

  ‘Kiss, definitely.’ His beautiful brown deer eyes bore s
traight into mine.

  Oh my God, and I so wanted to kiss him. You could almost drown in his eyes. Not only that, he had long sweeping lashes, ones I’d always dreamed of having myself. I spent a fortune on mascara just trying to make mine curl slightly up on the ends.

  ‘You can’t beat a good old snog now and then, can you, Ms Anderson?’ And he reached right over the table there and then and gave me a mind blowing frenchie. I felt slightly giddy when we eventually pulled apart.

  ‘Wow, us fish know how to snog, that’s for sure!’ I sighed.

  ‘We also know how to make an entrance to a wedding. Quick, we’ve got five minutes to get back to the hotel.’

  Carl held my hand throughout the ceremony. The bride looked beautiful. The two bridesmaids were very cute and the mothers both cried on cue. I managed to remain calm as I had no association with Carl’s cousin whatsoever. However, when it came to the ‘you may kiss the bride’ bit and Carl squeezed my hand I was off then. The butterfly mind was flying over as many buddleia bushes as it could manage.

  That was me standing there. I was in that white organza dress, hair tied up in uniform bride style. I was looking thin and radiant. My husband-to-be was waiting at the end of the aisle, looking at me with complete love and adoration. I could hear the church bells ringing and my friends singing. The sun was shining brightly outside and the honeymoon was booked to St Lucia.

  It was at times like these that I was really glad to be a Piscean, seeing life through my rose-coloured spectacles. If I had had a logical, earthbound mind, in truth Brad would be in the white organza, my cute little bridesmaids would be in the guise of Anna, Katie, Liv and H, all jostling for position in the photographs. My groom would have his fingers crossed hoping I wasn’t staggering down the aisle and the honeymoon would probably be in Katie’s apartment, as I would have spent all the wedding money on food.

  ‘Amy, we’re on this table, come on.’

  A colourful character addressed Carl. ‘All right, geezer?’ He was about six foot four with a shock of red hair, pulled forward into a quiff. He was accompanied by his girlfriend who was about four foot four, with jet-black hair cut into a severe bob with an earring in the shape of some sort of animal in her nose. She looked quite scary but was in fact a real laugh.