Apartment 6 x 2
This party is what every red-blooded male dream’s of: free booze: good music and convivial sex.
Cannabis: ecstasy: cocaine and magic mushrooms – stoned out of our heads.
Charges are we will end up on the two-setter couch with a tranny or sharing an uncomfortable bed-settee with someone’s mother: or worse on the floor with the family dog.
Un-fazed Scott finds a spot behind the black vinyl couch.
‘I’m off behind the couch.’ Scott advertising his intention to us all: with his loot of free alcohol and a person of interest: a young slim female figure dressed in a see-through fishnet shift. If not for two strategically placed black nipple covers: her breasts are there for all to admire and to the approval of Ben – who wants to join them.
‘Get your own pussy’. Scott laughs and dives to the floor without dropping a bottle or his grip of his conquest for the night.
People come and go: as do the trains at “Britomart Transport Station”: and like the ticket collectors: the “Casanova’s” are doing the circuit selecting only the vulnerable and most legless.
Because rejection will be unbearable at this late stage.
‘Over here'. Ben shouts.
He has found a soul mate: a discarded hussy wearing a skimpy skin-tight dress. Her bright yellow eyes lighting up her head.
Desperate to make out with a personal trainer.
At school Ben was always last to hand in his home - work. He always founding himself at the front of the class: always volunteering to put the chairs onto the desks at the end of day.
Over the last year or two he has slowly increased his body mass with abs and muscles to match. He is a fine example of a man. My body has stayed the same: even after some sessions in the gym and eating full carbonated diets.
I watch Ben exist the room by the patio doors with “Lady Godiva”. I turn to Duke: who is taking the opportunity to stockpile more than his share of alcohol.
At the top of my voice. I’m screaming.
‘I’m going to have a look around maybe I’ll find a spare pair of legs’.
Duke laughs and falls over: landing rather heavily on top of a pair of firm round ski slop type breasts belonging to a naked and well proportion able-bodied structure.
‘Careful there fella: you can hurt yourself landing on these things’.
The voice was sweet and mellow. Duke’s was in love.
Her words: he will wear around his shoulder: like a child’s cuddly blanket for warmth and security.
‘I’m Vicky. Who are you?’
‘Duke’.
‘Drink?’
‘Great’. Responding in simultaneous harmony.
The beautiful people hop, skip and jump into the sophisticated art of love making.
Leaving me to work the flat: like a insurance or encyclopaedia salesman. Vigorously bewildering with expert sale techniques: the free spirited: the stoned: the frustrated: the helpless and lost soles.
Selecting only the women able to satisfy my desire.
‘Hi there how are you: you looking for company?’
Mentally undressing them as I speck: entering names and phone numbers into my black book, for future reference: to provide company for me : on those long and dark nights.
I am yet to ring any numbers…
