lads, what colour do you think her nipples are? Are
they big and puffy, love? Go on, get ‘em out.
And if they laughed, he was off the hook.
I’d laugh too.
You’ve got to laugh, Ava,
you know that,
we know that.
I’d lasted three months by this point –
quite the feat.
One lock-in, we were all jammed in the
leather booth, I was squashed between the window and
Ketamine Chris who was holding court as he racked-up,
he was talking about anal sex – arse fucking – and how
this girl shit on him once, and how he kicked her out.
At some point he zoned into me, trapped there
against him and he put his arm round me and said,
you’re clean aren’t you, babe.
The others shifted, looked unsettled, Chris…
but he glanced up at them,
a flash,
two flick knives opening – I swear
they even made that sound, Ava – his eyes.
The boys went quiet, continued skinning-up.
Don’t worry, I know exactly what they like, he said
batting his eyelashes like a cartoon cow,
and then he leaned in close and bit my neck.
Quite hard.
I panicked – I need a wee!
You’ll have to climb across, he said still on my neck.
I was wearing those flower tights and little denim shorts.
As I climbed he jammed his hand under the shorts, but
couldn’t quite get in – thank God for the sturdy weave of
a good quality gusset, eh, Ava!
In dernier we trust.
Next day, I was back at work.
The daytime shift is boring in a pub.
A few sad, lonely men, who barely have the heart
to stare at you,
but do.
Matthew was hungover, coming down.
