Getting Over It Ch. 01

As I go to the bar again I can feel eyes on my body. It is always fucking incredibly marvellous to be desired. There’s a blonde at the bar in a black Gucci dress. She’s a real life Amazon and the eyes she’s giving me are about as subtle as Russ Meyer, who would ejaculate at the sight of her. Her tits are as big as Angeline’s but they look real and I’m imagining a lazy afternoon spent sucking on them. She’ll have to wait for Vampyros now though because drinking time is short. The imbecile makes mine a double and the blonde is checking out my ass. It’s got really hot in here.

The clock is ticking as another double goes down. There’s a tangible expectation in the air now and time may well be moving obscenely fast because I’m drunk and I want to fuck.

There’s a bloke in our pub and I didn’t even notice him. He’s got a Manchester accent. He stands by our table and says, “Es, wiz, trips, draw” No takers so he moves on. He circles the pub reciting his litany for a secular society but I can’t hear him because a voice in my head with a mancunian accent is saying “vibros, dildos, fingers and tongues, vibros, dildos, FINGERS AND TONGUES!” I’m in a deliciously bad way and I don’t want another drink, I’ll leave it until I get to her satanic majesty’s citadel of sin down the road. I want Becky and her beautiful cunt now like a tourist in the Dominican Republic wants to stop shiting but it doesn’t look good because GI Jane No2’s tongue is a long way down her throat and there’s something going on under the table but it’s a secret so I look away.

Were in the open air. I’m loosely tagging along with Becky and her manly suitors as we walk to Vampyros. I’m feeling a tad bit more sober which is a good thing because I have to get past the doorstaff. I’m having trouble deciding whether Becky’s arse or legs are the more criminally sexy and I want to own her. I want to own the deeds for Becky and lock them in a safe somewhere.

Angeline told me that my femininity was beautiful, but my masculine carnal appetite was irresistible. I can see that blonde from the pub and no building-site full of Neanderthals could ever leer at her tits the way I feel myself leering.

The queue for Vampyros is long and it’s moving slowly. Normally I’d get impatient but I need some time to clear my sodden brain. The bouncers are female, but only just. They’re checking people for drugs and I can see, even from here, that they are being thorough about it. This presents a problem because I have the best part of an eighth of an ounce of premium quality skunkweed in my bag. If they find it they won’t let me in. Two people have been turned away already and I’m shiting it. Angeline got this stuff for me and apart from its obvious and doomed sentimental value; its really fucking good gear and I can’t throw it away. Can’t and won’t.

There’s a few more been turned away and a young lady with inviting thighs and a feisty look complains volubly and profanely. I’m impressed but she’s not getting in.

If they find the weed I’ll just go home and listen to Angeline’s message. I think I can just about find it in myself to take her back, just this once. There’s four people between me and the doorwomen. I want to get in. I want to know whets on the answering machine but more of me wants to get in. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a an evil-marvellous night out just for me, not hanging on Angeline’s Prada coat tails all the time. Two people away from the bouncers.

A thuggish looking bloke walks round the corner. He’s had a lot to drink. He sees two hundred women and no men queuing up for a club and the cogs turn.

“Oi! How many women does it take to change a light bulb? Two! One to change the bulb, one to suck my cock!” He’s cracking up at his own joke and half staggers, half jogs, up the road. I like him. Most of the others don’t however; the air turns blue with the retorts. A couple of the more butch girls down the line move in his direction but he’s got enough sense to get the hell out of there.

One of the bouncers runs her hands over my body and I like it almost as much as she does. As her eyes go to my bag I’m thinking that I don’t hate men, I just hate their genitalia. There was a boy at school who played guitar and had hair like Eddy Vedder. I was thinking about it for a while but then I got a B+ on that glaciation exam paper, and Miss Fendale fisted me. The rest is history. She hasn’t found the skunk. I’m going to have to wait to find out what Angeline said to the answer phone.

The official Vampyros hostess is waiting as I go through the outer door. It’s peaches night tonight ladies, she pats a sticker on Becky’s ass and I’m jealous. There’s a picture of a peach on the sticker, with PEACHES NIGHT written around the peach. Neither of the GI Janes got a sticker. The hostess looks enough like Janet Jackson for me to want to eat her alive, she puts a sticker on my ass and gives it a squeeze. I smile and brush my tits against her arm as I go past, down the dingy stairs through a doorway into an even dingier corridor and I can hear the music really loud now. Elvis Costello is not impressed with a sulky girl as I go through another set of doors and here we go.

Entering Vampyros is a sobering experience.

To Be Continued