Entertaining at Large Ch. 07

'You have, haven't you?'

"Been promoted.'

Steve stood back with the look of a man inviting congratulations, acclamation and possibly even praise. If so, he was at the wrong address. George just pushed over his pint with the same look of distaste he always had when handling lager. I went to him and gave him a big hug and said all the things he had been expecting. He beamed down at me when we unclinched. Just for a moment. He was suddenly engulfed by Mandy. I really must get her some squeaky shoes. She added whoops, shouts and quite possibly asphyxiation to my, now insipid-looking, efforts. They were both breathing heavily when she released him. Probably for completely different reasons. Steve staggered when Mandy gave him a final playful elbow in the ribs. She glared at George.

'Smile you miserable sod.'

'All right. But only if we talk about something happier.'

That put Steve in his place. We all looked at the fat man expectantly. He enjoyed his moment of anticipation.

'When are you doing your encore?'

All eyes were on me.

'You are a single-minded old pervert. But I love you.'

He visibly brightened and spoke excitedly.

'There's a spot free on Friday. Shall I pencil you in? Show her the corset Mandy love. There's cash in it.'

'Hold your horses, big boy. I haven't said I'll do it yet. Give me a bit of time to think about it.'

Mandy took Steve and I over to our usual table. I could almost feel myself being lifted by her weighty hand.

'I'll take that as a yes then, shall I?'

Followed us across the bar. I noticed that men at a few of the tables looked over for any response I might give. I left them hanging. The photoshoot had been more gruelling than exciting. I still had a residual buzz from James's blow job, in fact, I admitted to myself, the whole morning's tease-thing had left me wanting something. I just wasn't sure what.

'You'll have to forgive him. He's been swinging between hung over and drunk for the past week. I've been much the same, but shagging Mr J has set me up nicely.'

'You?'

Steve was visibly shocked. Mandy beamed and nodded.

'And Mr J?'

She nodded again and made as if to speak.

'I'll fill you in later. What was it you had to show me Mandy?'

I hoped that sounded polite. I was still not ready for a blow-by-blow run down. Mandy shrugged off any disappointment and tapped at her telephone. We scrolled through page after page of corsets with Mandy explaining the differences to me, the benefits of the various materials used for stays and covering and anecdotes about her experiences - both as dancer and lover - when she had been wearing hers. I grew increasingly interested as her exposition rolled out. There was something about being gripped by unyielding strands of plastic, bone or steel which definitely appealed.

'That one looks nice.'

We both looked at Steve with the contempt he deserved.

"One more reason I'm glad I'm no longer married. Having to listen to a bloke trying to sound enthusiastic about clothes.'

'Why don't you consider that one? If you ordered it on express delivery it'd be with you by Friday morning at the latest. Not that I'm suggesting...'

I smiled down Mandy's concern at her own presumption and looked at the page she had open. It was a beautiful bustier-type with a top which was shaped to lift and enhance the breasts. The midnight black material was trimmed with lace and red ribbons. It was definitely me. I found the item on my own phone and took the 'buy' option. My sizes had been put in automatically by a clever little app I'd been trying out for the last few months.

'There.'

I looked at them both in triumph. Mandy kissed me on the cheek.

'Shall I tell George?'

'Go on what else are you going to be doing?'

'Its New Year's Eve, Steve. For all you know I might have been planning a small adventure armed with nothing more than a spare pair of panties and a box of condoms.'

I paused to let him enjoy my frown.

'A big box.'

'I'm going to a party at Chloe's.'

I hated Steve. All of a sudden my well-justified indignation at his assumptions regarding my empty social life had been trumped by his announcement of a party invitation. He sounded more like he was going to a funeral.

'I'll leave you two to discuss it.'

Mandy was, as I'd come to expect, no longer there. Steve and I enjoyed a rapid catch up. Things had a tendency to happen unexpectedly down at the Crown. He gave me a minute-by-minute account of his interview, his depression afterwards and his excitement when they offered him the post. It was a big step up with a package which included a rather swish car. I kissed him on the cheek.

'A team bus, just what the team needs. Will you be playing in a suit in future?'

'Piss off, keeper.'

I could tell he was pleased. I told him the tale of my morning and the averted disaster I found at the office. Muhammad had found an open order for around a hundred grand's worth of equipment misfiled in the closed accounts folder when he had been checking routine paperwork. I was full of praise for the way he had organised the warehouse crew to load a lorry, dragged one of our drivers away from home and hearth and arranged a return load from a packaging company in the customer's region. The firm was, in fact, going to make a profit from the delivery cost alone over and above the substantial sale.

'Sounds like the sort of chap I should be hiring.'

'You wouldn't go far wrong. He's got a great family and he's encouraging his daughters to take up cycling.'

'The only criterion I shall be using in future hirings.'

It was nice to laugh together. So we did a bit more while I described the incongruity of my Xmas day. I enjoyed the comfortable feeling of the company of a good friend with no agendas on the table. That disappeared when Steve described his own festive period. He and girlfriend Chloe had played house together for the first time. It was clear from what he said that, for him at least, it had not been a wholehearted success.

'Problem is I think she wants to settle down. This party is part and parcel of the same thing. She's only invited couples.'

'Need a stripper? I've got a lovely French maid's outfit.'

He laughed so much he blew lager out of his nose. I was glad of it, despite the fact we made so much noise we drew the attention of the whole pub. I had been drawn into making the obvious comment about friends' relationships before. Only to find myself weeks or months later sitting at the back of a cold church or registry office and right at the top of a former mate's shit list.

It was into this mini-drama that James walked. I looked up from beating Steve's back and shouting abuse at cat callers standing near the bar and there he was. Looking embarrassed: his natural state.

'James. You've brought the pictures. Let me buy you a drink and introduce you to the model.'

'I've a taxi outside, I should go.'

'Ever the raconteur, eh James? Steve, go pay the man. We'll get you another.'

I put an arm round his shoulder and frogmarched him to the bar. He had a brown paper parcel neatly tied with string under his arm. He scanned the place repeatedly trying to work out who the elusive Mandy could be. We stopped at the bar. She had her back to us. James was still looking about, confused. I coughed lightly.

'Mandy, I've got your Xmas present at last. Sorry it's a bit late.'

She span round almost knocking a glass off the bar with her enormous tits. James jumped back, colour draining from his face. She looked at the two of us with an amused grin.

'Susan darling. You shouldn't have. He's a bit young for me though, did you keep the receipt?'

Everyone within earshot thought that was hilarious. I was concerned there was a very real possibility James might wet himself. He clutched the package in front of him like a knight of old confronting a dragon. He held it out to her and she took it with a curious look on her face. We both watched her as she untied the string and slowly turned through the contents a picture at a time. There was a sheet of tissue paper between each one which she carefully smoothed down before taking her time drinking in the image it shielded. James and I watched in silence. I reached out for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

One minute I was going all gooey with sentiment at Mandy's reaction, the next I was fighting for breath. She had rounded the bar and grabbed me in a bear hug. She was smothering my face with wet kisses and had the sensation of her tears on my cheeks. I was concentrating on my next breath and speculating as to whether I was going to meet my end from suffocation, or whether part of the intricate network of supports which encased her mammaries would break free under the pressure and impale me.

She eventually put me down and I was able to take stock of any physical damage I may have suffered. I noticed James had backed off by several feet, a good head start if she made any attempt to thank him in a similar way. Mandy dried her tears on a tissue she extricated from her cleavage and looked around her. It was soon soaked. James tried to edge a chair between himself and her.

'George, come and look at these. They're fantastic.'

He dragged himself from an important beer discussion at the other end of the bar and dawdled over. He looked at the photographs with Increasing interest. He was soon engrossed. Mandy looked at him fondly before turning back to me.

'They're really beautiful.'

'You should thank James, he brought them down.'

I saw him edge further towards the door.

'What'll you have, young man, it's on the house?'

'He'll have a beer. These are brilliant. How'd you manage it, that magazine was crap?'

George had finished with the pictures and was looking around to call others over to enjoy them. He busied himself pulling a pint and beckoned to James.

'I drink lager.'

'Not in here you don't.'

He put the pint in front of him and intimidated the poor lad into taking a sip with a stern look. James managed a passable impersonation of someone enjoying the experience. Good enough to satisfy George anyway. I stood aside to enjoy the spectacle of a well-informed teenager attempting to explain the history and technicalities of digitalisation to a troglodyte. It lasted no more than a minute.

'Scarlett. Get in here and talk to this young 'un about how he put together these snaps of your auntie Mandy. I can't understand a word he's saying.'

My heart didn't exactly miss a beat, but I did feel a little flutter when she came through from the Snug. She was pale, which meant almost white given her normal skin tone. She looked scared and her eyes kept darting around the bar checking who was in. I noticed she was wearing make up, but the bruise on her face was virtually invisible. She saw me staring and smiled. She drew back her hair and nodded. I watched her slowly relax as George enthused about the pictures of Mandy. She stood on tiptoe to kiss the queen of the bar on the cheek and then came over to James and I.

'Love the hair. It'll stop getting in your eyes.'

She leaned over and stroked an invisible strand from the side of my face. I shivered slightly inside.

'Thanks. You're the first person in this place who's noticed. You OK? You look a bit...'

'I'm fine. It's the first time I've been in since Xmas. You know.'

I did. I joined her in checking the pub for any signs of Barry's presence.

'This is James. The boy George wanted you to talk to. Why don't you come over and join me and Steve so you two can chat?'

I looked over at Steve. He was looking lonely sitting at the large table all on his own. He was frowning at his mobile and obviously in the middle of a text conversation. She looked worried again and glanced around again. George opened a bottle of alcopop and plonked it down in front of her. He smiled at me and nodded slightly behind her back. Obviously his bat-like hearing was not just used to pick up gossip and opportunities for sexual innuendo. She took a deep breath and then suddenly hoisted herself onto the bar in a sitting position, she swivelled - she had on white cotton panties under her denim miniskirt - and jumped down using James to cushion her fall.

'Scarlett. How many times have I asked you not to do that?'

She hoisted herself back up on the bar using just her arms and leaned over to kiss him.

'Thousands Uncle George, possibly millions.'

She was grinning as she turned back to us drink in hand. I slipped a protective arm around her shoulder and she slid hers around my waist. We purposely knocked hips a few times as we went to join Steve. James followed on looking more than a little lost.

'Have you met Steve? He plays in my football team. I say plays, it's actually more strutting about looking important whilst the rest of us try and save his arse.'

He stood up and held out his hand, with a sly glare at me on the side.

'This is Scarlett. She's a friend so stop trying to eat her you animal.'

Steve had bent over and kissed her hand as she offered it to him. They were both blushing.

'And this is James.'

I waved a theatrical arm and then had to look round. He was still about three yards away staring at the Strippers Every Friday notice. I ushered him over with a curt toss of my head.

'He works at the studio where I had my session this morning. This is Steve. He's just started kissing hands so don't let him get too close.'

Scarlett slipped into the chair furthest from the door. She had a good view of who was coming in or going out and eased it back so she was against the wall. James sat next to her and they started talking computer-speak. Scarlett kept looking up whenever the door opened. And occasionally to smile at me. The only part of the conversation I understood was when James explained that the tissue paper was a special formulation which neutralised acid and should keep the photos fresh for decades. Steve and I looked at each other and nodded occasionally in the way tourists do on holiday when they have stupidly asked directions from an over-helpful local who speaks no English.

After about half-an-hour there was an almighty crash behind me as the door slammed open. I jumped, Scarlett was half-way out of her chair and I noticed George making a beeline for the gate at the side of the bar. We all slowly relaxed when we realised it was only Tracy. She had Jason in tow. She looked around like a baddie in a western and then gave a shriek and headed for Scarlett. She bent over and hugged her close before looking round at the rest of us. James clearly caught her eye.

'Wotcha Susan.'

She nodded at Steve as if vaguely recognising him.

'New bloke already? Way to go Scarlett.'

'We're not. I'm not.'

Scarlett just looked at her cousin with a smile. James continued spluttering his confusion while Tracy assessed him in a predatory way. He and Jason looked each other up and down with cold but non-hostile glances. The way lads do when they meet each other for the first time and haven't had a chance yet to measure each other's willies.

'What ho, Tracy. This is James. I guess he's a friend of mine.'

I had sucked his cock after all. He had no right to be going quite so red. Tracy nodded, computing a new situation.

'You stripping on Friday?'

'Of course. It's New Year's Eve.'

'James is coming down. I told him you'd look after him.'

'You're a real pal, Susan.'

She slipped off the table and onto the protesting boy's lap. She put a finger over his lips to quieten him down. She winked at Scarlett who smiled back indulgently.

'You a tits man, or an arse man, James?'

She wiggled her bottom against his crutch. He opened his mouth as if to reply.

'No. Don't tell me.'

She wiggled again and adopted a thoughtful expression.

'Arse man. Yes definitely. Am I right?'

James nodded, defeated. He looked pleadingly towards me.

'Why don't you four go and play pool? Give me and Steve an opportunity to chat.'

Tracy jumped up and grabbed James's hand before he had a chance to protest. She dragged him towards the empty table. Jason offered a gentlemanly palm to Scarlett who, after a moment's hesitation, accepted it. They walked slowly after the other two. I noticed him bending to whisper reassurance in her ear. I decided I liked Jason. I had never heard him utter a word, and goodness only knows what he was doing with Tracy, but he seemed to respect and understand both cousins. That was enough for me.

Steve and I settled into an easy joshing rhythm. We compared presents. I thanked him again for the jersey and admired the watch Chloe had bought him. We chatted about the team and how long in detox Piotr and Wot would need after their sojourn in the homeland of Polish vodka.

'We should see if we can get a sponsor.'

'Us?'

I laughed expecting him to join in. Turned out he was serious.

'Why not? Most of the teams we play against have them. I might ask my bosses now I'm flavour of the month.'

'I'll choose the strip.'

Sponsorship at our level mainly consisted of buying kit and perhaps an hour or two off work for team members.

'I'm not wearing pink.'

'As if I would.'

We smiled at each other. Fuschia it is then, I thought. I moved the conversation on again to tell him how pleased I was with my keeper's jersey and how proud I was of the lads.

The end of the evening came violently. I had only ever seen bar fights staged on TV. Those seemed to go on for ever and involve a lot of shouting, throwing of tables and smashing of windows. This one only took a couple of minutes but was none the less scary for it.

I didn't notice Barry come in, but I heard Scarlett scream. He advanced on her looking angry and shouting abuse. James was in front of her in an instant, holding his arms back to shield her completely. When Barry pulled out a knife and held it out in front of him I almost screamed myself. I could hear Scarlett crying hysterically.

'This is your new boyfriend is it? I'll fucking kill him, then I'll do you.'

He drew back his arm readying a lunge. James didn't move, but continued to hug a cowering Scarlett behind him. She had her head buried between his shoulder blades. I didn't see where Jason came from, but he punched Barry square in the face knocking him to the ground. Blood spurted from his nose. Jason stamped on his wrist, I heard bones crack, and kicked the knife away when it was released. Then George was on him. He must have been taking lessons from Mandy. He pushed Jason aside and picked Barry up with one fist grabbing both his lapels. He threw him against the wall. It was all of ten feet.

I had never seen anything like it. Barry bicycled his feet backwards for the first yard or so then literally left the ground until he hit the wall. He slumped down to the floor. George picked him up again and dumped him in the nearest chair. He banged his head against the wall to get his attention.

'The best thing you can do sonny is leave town.'

'He broke my fucking wrist.'

George banged his head against the wall again.

'Listen to me you piece of shit. By this time tomorrow you'll be banned from every boozer in town.'

'You can't.'

'Yes I can. There's a page of mugshots behind every bar. I'll give the police the knife with your prints on it and tell them you ran before we could catch you.'

'You wouldn't.'

George laughed. It wasn't a happy sound.

'You heard of happy slapping?'

'Yeah?'

'Well I'm also introducing you to the unhappy kind. I'm putting the word out via your so-called mates.'

He mentioned a few names that Barry clearly recognised.

'Every one of them who brings in a picture of you bleeding gets a free pint. Think they'll like it?'

'I need an ambulance.'

'You can walk.'

He picked the boy up again and pushed open the door using his head. I winced at the noise the impact made. He threw him bodily into the street. There was at least two seconds between the initial heave and the sound of him hitting the pavement. George turned and leaned back against the closed door. He stood, hands on knees and head bowed. His whole body shook with the effort of breathing. The bar was completely silent for a minute except for Scarlett's crying. Then the sound of the Stones 'Street Fighting Man' blasted out of the hidden speakers. Some of us clapped.