Thursday, June 01, 2006

Night Out

"Come on," I whisper.
You give it a few minutes, then follow me downstairs.
Disappear into a cubicle.
Shake out a line, lick the card clean, feel the rush.
Then take turns…on eachother, on your knees.
We've been here before. Just last weekend, in fact.

Head out into the night, the red lights.
Catch a strip show.
Your idea, you pay.
My first foray into a world of crap champagne, bad music, even worse dancing.
Shit show - "Let's get out of here," we agree.

Drunk, high, rolling around on a hard, damp wall.
Fumbling like teens. Lowdown and dirty.
All tongues, pussy, cock, piercings, tatts, more tongues.
Mine, for one night only. Yours whenever you glance in my direction.

Back streets. Neon lights. Knock down ginger. Ring and run. Just having fun.
Down an alley: "Nineteen years old," says the sign on the door.
"Same as me," I remark, excitedly.
A little shocked, too.
Ring the bell. Ask the man (fat, balding, Greek?):
"Would she do us both…together?"
"Three?" He doesn't think so. He's gonna check. (Talk her round). "Back in a sec."
"Ok," we smirk.

Hang about in the stairwell. Laughing, more fumbling, more tongues.
Heave up onto the window ledge. Legs spread. Unzipped, wet.
Fingers rub, slip, slide.

Door opens. "Ok, yes'," he says.
"Lost interest, sorry," we reply.

So do you. The buzz starts to fade. Cabs pull up. Get in, go our separate ways.
Throw up in the back. At least, I do.

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