While drinking with Greg and his mates, Howard's
eyes roved the dance floor. He spotted Sue's
friends. Neither Sue nor Dominic, however, could
be spied.
'That Dominic's a lucky,
lucky bastard!'
he groaned to himself under the booming music,
'Even if Sue dumps him, at least he's shagged
her! At least he's
been shagged!'
There was, he mused, a hint of a lady's man
in Dominic, despite his eccentric appearance.
He had a sort of aura about him which, roughly
translated, said,
I am harmless. Come and
talk to me!
Howard's mind, as frequently was its wont, turned
to Gallie. Greg had assured him she was somewhere
amongst the swarming masses. Was she cavorting
with her girlfriends? Or was some handsome lecher
chatting her up?
He had learned from Greg that although she had
been born locally, Gallie was of Scandinavian
descent. Her father had died when she was little,
and she was very close to her mother and older
brothers. They had been raised in poverty and
yet she laid claim to a wonderful childhood.
He loved her: her hair; her eyes; her diminutive
mouth; her delicate face; her rounded (yet not
plump) figure; her sensitive voice; her chuckle.
He
loved her laugh. She was so
sweet
when she laughed! Yet, somehow, she wasn't
the sort of girl to turn heads. She didn't
affect that sinful poise that made lads drool
and yet she fitted perfectly with his own idea
of ravishing. But, despite his enrapture, he
castigated himself that he wasn't her type.
He guessed that she would never go out with
him because... He couldn't quite figure out
his intuition. Nonetheless, he was tugged by
her allure. Could he ever become desirable
in those magical eyes of hers? There was always
a
chance!
He made an excuse and left the lads. His search
of the disco hall bore fruit. Gallie was dancing
with Karen and two strangers. He watched from
the shadows.
Gallie was dressed in a small and humble white
top that was nicely taut around her breasts;
black jeans that showed off her curvaceous behind;
and dainty red shoes revealing the tops of her
pretty feet. Karen, on the other hand, was a
spectacle; a bouncing Gordian knot of frivolous
garments. She boasted black boots; black tights;
a black top that came down over her waist to
mid thigh position; a purple waistcoat that
was trim, shiny and patterned; and an intricate
leather belt that looped around her black top.
Pieces of vibrantly multicoloured silky satin
were festooned about her neck along with a smattering
of brash neck jewellery. She finished off the
effect with enormous earrings. Her fiery hair
was tightly tied back and detonated from the
back of her head: a masterpiece of alternative
fashion. Howard tutted.
Art students! Karen!
Jailhouse Rock roared from the PA system and
the dance floor flooded yet more deeply. Gallie's
dance was subdued, yet sensuous. It cracked
him up. Karen, by contrast, danced with exotic
choreography. Abandonment radiated from every
movement.
A tap on the shoulder broke his trance. Behind
him Jacintha was staring at him somewhat intensely.
Her beauty was stern. Her makeup was glamourous,
yet uninviting. Even scary. She was a gorgeous
monster: as intense as fire. As sobering as
ice.
'Where are my astronomy notes?' she said, after
they had exchanged stilted greetings. 'You gave
me your word you would return them to me yesterday!'
Christ! He had completely forgotten!
'Please accept my most sincerest apologies!'
No response was forthcoming other than a fierce
stare.
'Well, you saw with your own eyes what happened
yesterday,' his plea continued, 'I got kicked
out of the lecture!'
'You should still have returned my notes. That
was two days ago!'
'I, er... got... er... ate something which disagreed
with me. I've been too unwell to attend lectures
today,
honestly! I
know it sounds
like bull, but ask the girls I live with! Gallie
and Karen over there: they live with me. They
witnessed my suffering, which was very
great!'
The corners of Jacintha's pert mouth momentary
increased their altitude: a fleeting spurt of
amusement surfaced from some forbidden depth.
But this magma of warmth crystalised into jagged
indignation once again. She aimed her gaze at
the pint in his hand with a mocking knowingness.
'You were not well enough for lectures but I
see that you
are well enough to come
here!'
'But... But-' He squirmed with embarrassment.
She raised a finger to her lips.
'I must ask you to return my notes tomorrow.'
'But it's Saturday tomorrow; there are no lectures!'
'Take them to Donovan Hall. Room number two-hundred-and-ninety-two.
At three in the afternoon.'
'OK.'
'Be sure not to forget!' she stressed.
Her quick, bright eyes tightened with choler.
He frantically groped for a dignified response
but his larynx was seized with confusion. No
more was said. Striding over-purposefully from
him, she dissolved away into the dark, fermenting
crowd.
Taken aback, he fished a biro from his pocket
and, in a smudgy scrawl, jotted the room number
on his arm. His roiled state of mind grew less
apologetic.
Silly cow! How could I have
fancied a woman like that? She's nothing but
a cold fish, a damned battle-axe!
'
Howie!' It was Greg. Howard groaned
inwardly. 'Howie, you sly bleeding git, you!
Sneaking off and grabbing all the talent for
yerself! Who in the name of bleeding
Sodom
was that yummy little angel? You're cooking
tonight, dude, I'll hand that to ya! You're
in with the first shout at the talent! That's
all I bloody need, bleeding competition for
the
crème de la crème tottie!'
'Oh,
that was Jacintha. Girl from my
course,' muttered Howard distractedly.
'Blimey! 'Ere was me thinking astronomy was
only for speccy types, but that babe's bleeding
stellar! An astronomy chick eh? I'll wager when
you were chatting it up with her, you invited
her back for a
big bang, eh? In her
black
hole I bet!'
At this moment Greg's mate appeared. Greg winked
and the two of them slowly wondered off. Howard
watched them stalk the dance floor like hyenas
creeping up upon grazing herds of juicy gazelles.
He began to regret his providing Greg with intelligence
on Jacintha.
Meanwhile, Gallie, Karen and their other two
companions were making their way from the dance
floor. They chatted excitedly amongst themselves.
His heart jumped. Gallie was waving and beckoning
him! With a fluttering heart he joined them.
'Howie, darling!' Gallie said. All four girls
looked merry, a condition not inhibited by his
arrival. 'You came after all!'
Gallie introduced the two strangers. Howard
forgot their names instantly. He shot a pleasant
smile at them and endeavoured to put on the
camouflage of a cool façade.
'Ah, here's the famous
Howard I was telling
you
all about!' enthused Gallie.
'Ooh, he's so sexy! Lucky you!' one of the strange
girls said. 'You're the live-in hunk eh?' she
said.
Howard hoped she was being generous rather than
ironic. He laughed dismissively, not knowing
whose eyes to avoid the most.
'I wouldn't exactly describe...'
Gallie grabbed him around the waist. 'Stop
being sooo
modest, Big Boy!' she cried,
eyes sparkling.
With affectionate mirth, she planted her free
hand firmly on his crotch. The other girls
fell about laughing as he shrank with mortification.
He managed to salvage a few points by recovering
quickly.
'I'll give you an
hour to stop doing
that, Gallie!'
'Here,' giggled the strange girl who spoke earlier,
'Gallie, move over, let
me have a go!'
'I think I'd better leave before I get...' Once
again, words failed him.
And he made good his escape. Manhandling by
one girl was bearable, but with four giggling,
groping, maniacal women he was out of his depth
by a mile. Even the desire to be with Gallie
didn't overcome his fear.
Shell-shocked, and feeling totally inadequate,
he circumnavigated the dance floor. There was
no sign of Dominic nor Jacintha. He caught
sight of Greg, who was leaning against a wall,
pint in hand, fag in mouth, listening to a gesticulating
girl. Howard felt relief. Greg's victim wasn't
Jacintha.
A slowie record began playing. It was ten to
two already! Only ten minutes remained. He had
scant time to pull! He had little practice
at this art. He drained his pint and zoomed
in on a solitary girl, whom he thought looked
sad enough to accept his advances.
'Can I ask for a dance, darling?'
"I don't dance with people like
you."
With poisoned ears, he scouted some more. He
noticed another solitary woman. she looked sullen.
He would make her day by seducing her: this
girl was a fail-safe fuck!
'May I have this dance, darling?' he blurted.
'You're a creep aren't you?' she sneered.
His ego screamed and squealed, squirmed and
squelched.
His ego was knifed with the full self-blame
of inexperience.
His ego exploded.
'What's up with you, you miserable cow?' His
face coloured. 'I was doing a fat, ugly women
a service by asking you to dance!'
Leaving his tormentor suitably appalled, he
stormed from the disco, and blindly ran out
of the Students Union building and into the
cold night air. He meandered aimlessly down
the Chillington Road in the opposite direction
to his house. Before long happened upon an Indian
takeaway and felt an irrepressible desire to
eat. Two mixed groups of students were in the
shop. Both groups contained an irritating,
garrulous male who showed off unashamedly.
Each competed for the crown of wankdom by seeing
who could make the most implausible claims about
how many times they have
done it in a
single night. Howard suppressed an urge to punch
them as they spewed their mathematically impossible
fantasies with the white cloaked, moustachioed
Indian who nodded congenially at them from behind
the counter and took their money in exchange
for their "meat" curries.
Howard's own "meat" curry, poppadoms
and pulao rice finally arrived in turn. He
stepped out into the street. He gazed longingly
at lovers who ambled the city streets without
care nor woe. He watched groups of homeward
women but every temptation to approach them
on speculation of flirting was quenched by cold
trepidation. It was hopeless. A clapped out
black cortina pulled up next to one group and
blasted its horn. They chatted to the driver.
Eventually, with a Knight Rider-style red light
sweeping from side to side, it screamed away.
Wretched and bowed he dragged his feet on the
pavement. How was he going to explain to his
housemates that he had failed to pull? How could
he hope to pull Gallie if he couldn't even pull
consenting strangers? It had always been his
assumption that sex would come to him on a plate.
And yet his feast never came.
 | | | | |
| From: |
Jerry | Subject: | 2001-06-05 15:45:01 |
| | | | |
| From: |
Knoeier | Subject: | 2001-06-07 10:44:19 |
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| From: |
isolani | Subject: | 2001-06-18 09:36:47 |
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| From: |
Chris Holroyd | Subject: | 2001-06-18 09:38:49 |
| | | | |
| From: |
Maddy | Subject: | 2001-06-24 13:38:54 |
| | | | |
| From: |
Simon Weston | Subject: | 2001-07-05 18:42:39 |
| | | | |
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