Songs for the Sick

Here we are again.
Don't all 3 storey townhouses in London look the same after a while?
In a city so big and exciting, why do you always end up with the same crowd on a Saturday night? In the same house, listening to the same music, having the same conversations. I was sitting on my own again, in the corner, trying not to look conspicuous, trying not to notice the array of prettier, skinnier, more hip girls than me. That one girl in particular in the cutesy little sailor top and the micro mini. Her pixie cut hair and delicate features, she made eating Haribos look like the sexiest thing alive and all the boys were looking at her. ALL of them. She even managed to make intelligent conversation every now and then and although I wanted to respond I feared my usual tongue-tiedness would come out in force and I would appear like the idiot I truly am, so I remained silent. Silent and drunk. Very drunk. A mixture of cheap lager and non-descript shots made my cozy little corner into somewhat of a coma corner, but a nice, safe, warm feeling coma. The Ecstasy was probably a bad idea though. In the midst of not knowing whether to just puke in my coma corner or run to the loo, I decided on the latter and found the bathroom at the very top of the stairs to be the safest bet. Apart from the mess that was my friend T sitting on the bathtub with his scruffy brown hair all over his face. He appeared to be waiting to puke himself so I ignored him and let my E rush sick belly spew into the toilet. Ahhh Deep Breath...how so much better the world appears after you puke. That fuzzy head to toe rush. Peace at last. I sat down on the toilet and enjoyed the moment.

I'm unsure how many minutes past but I soon felt two large, grubby hands gently on my bare legs. He grabbed me softly, but firmly by the back of the thighs and pulled me towards him..where he was still sitting on the edge of the bath. If I had wanted to protest, now was the time but it all happened so fast...I felt his cold hands slide up the back of my dress until they reached my ass and pulled me towards his face. My thighs shook, I dont know whether from shock, excitment or E. I felt his hot, warm breath on my inner thigh as he began to gently kiss me, up my left thigh, pausing briefly when he reached the middle and i felt his hot breath through my knickers...he moved on and slowly kissed me all down my right thigh. More shaking. Then in seeming slow motion, he pulled my dress up to my waist and slowly, slowly, so slowly pulled my knickers down. He pulled back to look at me for what seemed like an age. I bit my bottom lip, unsure of what was going to happen next. Did he just want to look at me?! He gently pulled my hips close again and began to kiss me THERE. Gentle little pecks at first, moving to gentle little nibbles before he used his tongue more and more and MORE. More shakes. Uncontrollable this time. I came with such a force that he fell back and hit his head on the tilled wall. Ouch. I didnt really care if he was concussed at that point. I just wanted more, so i pulled him onto the cold bathroom floor and got on top of him...all the while pulling on his dirty brown mop of hair but not kissing,.. because of the puke....

I would continue to see him most Saturday nights at one party or another and we'd share an uncomfortable glance before quickly grabbing hold of our respective partners and snogging them madly.