Forever Is Over (23 page)

I attempted to park my backside on that bench too but I as I slid drunkenly down, I missed the bench completely and my bum hit the
concrete slabs below.

“
Ow!
”

“
Jemma!
”
she laughed a little,
“
are you OK, honey?
”

She picked me up and positioned me carefully on the bench.

“
How weird is this? I
’
m used to looking after Mum when she
’
s off
her
face, but not you!
”

“
I
’
m so sorry, Kelly! I should be looking after you!
”

“
Jemma, I
’
m fine, I don
’
t need looking after.
”

I was drunk, I couldn
’
t help saying what I thought.

”
You might do soon though.
”

“
Why?
”

“
If you start dating Richie Billingham.
”

“
What
’
s wrong with Richie Billingham?
”

“
I don
’
t know what
’
s wrong with him. I don
’
t really know him. I just
know he
’
s sixteen and sixteen year old lads are only after one thing.
”

Kelly sort of half laughed, half snorted.

“
Are you my Dad?
”

“
What?
”

“
Doesn
’
t matter. Just something Richie said earlier. Anyway, he
’
s
not sixteen, he
’
s fifteen and next month I
’
m fourteen.
”

“
Just be careful.
”

“
Jemma, now is not a good time for you to be giving me advice! You
look like a beardless Oliver Reed! How can I take advice off you when
you can
’
t even plant your bum on a seat in a bus stop properly?
”

“
I won
’
t mention it again. Just remember I told you to be careful.
”

             
We were silent for a while. Kelly was probably l
ost in thought, she
was the deep thinker and I was quiet because I was now so drunk, I
could not manage to string a word, let alone a sentence, together. The
fresh air must have done some good though because after a period of
quiet contemplation, I managed to say.

“
Take me back to the Birch
’
s now, Kel. I really do need to lie down.
”

That  conversation was the last thing I remembered for
an
indeterminate period of time!

I don
’
t remember walking back to the Birch
’
s, I don
’
t remember
going in, I don
’
t remember Kelly sorting out somewhere for me to
sleep, it is all a complete blank! The first thing I remember was being in
a lovely, comfy bed, a double bed, in total darkness and then the door
opening slightly, light and noise flooded in, followed by a male figure,
I couldn
’
t see who, creeping in, closing the door behind them and then
sitting on the edge of the bed.

“
How are you feeling?
”

I recognised the voice but the world was still spinning, albeit at a
slower speed than before, so my brain failed
to put a face to it.

             
“
A bit better, I think. How are you?
”

I was doing my Miss Marple bit, trying to get clues.

“
Pretty pissed!
”

Great! That ruled no-one out.

“
Do you mind if I lay down on the bed too? To be honest, Jemma,
I
’
m hammered.
”

“
No problem.
”

I felt him getting in under the sheet and continental quilt then I
drifted back off to sleep
……

How long I then slept for, I have no idea, but it couldn
’
t have been
long. I woke up and me and the mystery man were huddled together or
at least I had snuggled into his back. He was definitely asleep. I edged
myself away from him a little. I wanted to know who it was. I wanted to
get up, go to the door, open it slightly so the light from the landing came
in and I could see his face, as all I could see was a very vague silhouette.
I sat up in bed, ready to get out of it but my body objected, I was still
in a right state, my body parts had gone on strike and were failing to
respond to commands from my brain. I gave him a nudge.

“
How are you doing over there?
”

He groaned a little and then replied,

“
I
’
m OK. Still drunk, but OK.
”

I was going to have to ask.

“
Who are you?
”

He laughed. I half recognised that laugh.

“
Do you not know?
”

“
No! It
’
s bugging me, tell me!
”

He laughed again and then put a smooth h
and on the side of my
face and gently kissed me. I could have pulled away, struggled up to
the door and the game would have been over, but to be honest, I didn
’
t
want it to be. The whole issue I had with myself was that I felt unloved
and unwanted. At the very least, I was wanted now, I kissed him back!

“
Not Billy McGregor then!
”
I thought mid-kiss.

Billy was a crap kisser,
clumsy and wet, this guy knew what h
e was doing. For all I knew, I
could be kissing a frog, but in that moment, I didn
’
t care! As we kissed,
my left hand moved down towards his crotch. He had jeans on (which
again ruled no-one out!) and my fingers, although on the outside, knew
that things were livening up down there. I felt stirrings of my own too.

This was bizarre! As soon as we finished, I wanted to know who this
was! We stopped kissing momentarily when our teeth clashed. No brace
anyway, that ruled out a few geeks on the stairs!

“
Sorry!
”
he whispered.

Whoever he was, he was really polite! I started kissing him again,
throwing my tongue into his mouth with wild abandon! Funny how
my body could do what it was told when it was getting some benefits! I
couldn
’
t help thinking though, when I turned the light on, I was in for
a massive disappointment! I put that to the back of my mind though
and kept on kissing, when I put my hands in his hair, it felt silky and
clean, which probably ruled out the whole Birch family and the majority
of their friends. Then, when his hands worked their way round my back
and expertly undid the clasp on my bra, I was relieved,

“
Its not James Billingham either! Thank God for that!
”
I thought.

I was half-expecting it to be him!

As our kissing marathon continued, one of his hands touched my
left breast in a tender, inquisitive fashion. He circled my nipple which
stood to attention like a guard at Buckingham Palace! The fact that I
had no idea who I was sharing caresses with was driving me wild! My
right hand, emboldened by the drink and circumstances, left the safety
of the outside of his jeans and crept u
nder his boxer shorts, through
a forest of pubic hair and then on to his now erect penis. My fingers
gripped it like a gaggle of pornographic fingerbobs!

Mystery man responded in kind, his free hand working its way
under my leather mini, on to my thigh, then moving my knickers to one
side and awaiting an invitation in. Now was not a time to be prudish,
my left hand took his and encouraged his fingers inside. I was wet, really
wet. This felt so different to being with Billy McGregor, with Billy
’
s
clumsy ways and dirty fingernails, I could be as dry as the Sahara!

Clothes started coming off. My top, his top, his torso felt teenage
boyish but attractively so, he was muscular, toned and hair free, then
his jeans came off, followed by my mini- skirt. I wanted him inside me
now, properly inside me. I made a move on his boxer shorts. He stopped
me, which was unexpected.

“
Are you sure you want to be doing this?
”
he asked.

Did boys ask questions like that?

“
Have you got any johnnies?
”
I asked.

Not the most romantic
question ever, but it needed asking.

”
No! I only came in here for a lie down. Shall we stop?
”

Damn! I didn
’
t want that! This was all mysterious and sexual, it was
now becoming sensible. I took
the lead and kissed him again.

             
“
Just make sure you are out before the dynamite explodes!
”

After that, the passions were soon
re-kindled. I eased his boxer
shorts down, he tugged gently at my knickers, they had reached my
knees when the door opened slightly.

“
Oops, sorry!
”

I looked up to see who our intruder was and just before the door
shut again, I realised it was Amy.

“
Shit!
”
I thought, if my eyes hadn
’
t been drawn to the door, I could
have seen who he was.

This time the interruption didn
’
t upset our rhythm, I took my own
knickers the remainder of the way down, then turned so he was below
me, pressed his shoulders down and in the darkness slipped on top of
him, shuffling around a little to allow him inside. I was expecting it to
hurt, but it didn
’
t. He thrust into me a couple of times, my body tingled,
then all of a sudden he stopped.

“
No Jemma! Stop! I
’
m so sorry, I need to get out of here!
”

He wriggled beneath me. Embarrassed I clambered off him and
buried my head in the pillow, I heard him gathering his things together,
putting his boxer shorts on and searching around in the darkness for
the rest of his clothes. Within seconds, he had gathered them up and
was out the room. Gone! I still didn
’
t know who the hell he was! Then
a thought occurred to me. I didn
’
t know who he was, but whoever was
outside the door, in the landing, would definitely know. It was my turn
to scramble for clothes. Quickly finding my knickers and bra, I was
ready to unmask
“
The Phantom Fucker
”
!

“
Amy!
”
I shouted.
“
Amy! Quickly come here!
”

Richie

I was in serious trouble. Hiccupy burps were a bad sign. Hiccupy
burps that rose up
through your body, leaving you with a vomit-smelling
halitosis, such as I had just had, were your body
’
s message that the
last train to porcelain was just about to leave and would be depositing
carrots, lager and the lining of your stomach at its final destination.
My body was telling me that I needed to get on boa
rd quickly, as it was
likely to be an express train, journey time five minutes and if I didn
’
t act
quickly it would be re-routed and be the last train to
“
Carpetsville
”
.
I ran up the stairs. The stairs that had been crammed full earlier
were now almost empty, like supporters leaving five minutes before the
end due to their team
’
s five-nil defeat, partygoers en masse had decided
they had gleaned all they could from this party and it was now time to
head home. Only the optimistic and the desperate, the drunks and the
copulators remained. To my horror, the majority of them had gathered
in an orderly queue outside the bathroom, no doubt to relieve their
bladders, to return their lager from whence it came or to flush away their condoms filled with millions of children they would never have.
My
body did not empathise with
their need to queue.
In total, there must have been a dozen queuing and based on a
turnaround time of three minutes per head, my stomach could not
empty its contents for thirty six minutes, it had already conveyed the
message that this was an impossibility. I needed to beg favours,