Se* & *rugs & Rock & Roll and Nursing

Chapter12

BILL HAD ALREADY LEFT FOR the Teviot gig. I gave Lisa a quick phone.

“How’s the studying going?”

“Fine.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind and come to the

gig.”

“No thanks, the thought of hanging about with a bunch

of sweaty reprobates is not that compelling.”

She was funny.

“Alright, get back to the books. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

‘Enjoy yourself and try to behave.’

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The downstairs bar at Teviot was pretty busy when I ar-

rived. Bill was finishing setting up.

“Let’s go upstairs for a pint,” he said.

It was quieter, and we ordered a couple of pints of Tar-

tan.

“Ye want some Lou Reed?”

“Whit?”

“Speed, ya fanny.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

“Don’t worry, its good stuff.”

“How tae take it?”

I wasn’t a big drug taker. The only one I’d tried was smoking dope. He handed me a small white paper ball.

“Ye can snort it if ye want. I prefer swallowing it.”

“Whit’s this?”

“Speed wrapped in a Rizla.”

“So, ah jist swallow?”

“Aye, wash it doon wi the beer.”

Following his lead, I swallowed it with a gulp of Tartan. He said I’d feel it coming on in fifteen minutes – assuring me I’d like it. Since meeting Bill, I’d become more open-minded about recreational drugs. Gaz joined us.

“You take some Lou Reed?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Calum, its good stuff. Guaranteed by me.”

I burst out laughing and Bill went for more beer.

“Just enjoy, Calum. Try not to drink too much though,” grinned Gaz.

Wise words. Wish I’d listened.

The speed took full effect as the band’s set began. The place was mobbed – the punters responded well to what they heard. I felt good. I felt really f*****g good – drinking like a fish and feeling horny as hell. Thought about going to Lisa’s, but if she found out, I’d taken speed she’d go off her nut. I decided against it. The band played their last song; Bill’s guitar playing was f*****g cosmic man. The speed made everything sound so alive. My ears were ringing. f*****g brilliant. The DJ played Bowie’s Let’s Dance, I stood on the edge of the dance floor, gawping at a bunch of dancing lassies. Desperate for a shag. The band had gone upstairs. I joined them.

“What did you think about the set Calum?” asked Gaz.

“It was f*****g great, even better than the last time.”

“Cheers, man.”

“You played some new stuff ?”

“Aye, been working on a couple of new songs. Finally got the words written last week.”

“Totally f*****g excellent man,” I speed smiled.

“Cheers, man.”

“Who’s for a drink?” I speed shouted.

The three of them put their hands up like a classroom full of swots. Fee came from the bog with a lassie who looked a bit older than us.

“You want a drink, Fee? What about your friend?”

She introduced me to Carrie – a tutor from the Art College. Feeling f*****g fantastic, I delivered the round without spilling a single drop. Speed is brilliant, man.

“How was the gig? Better than the last time?”

“Fee, it was f*****g magic. You need to get these songs recorded.”

“I know. We are looking to book some studio time. Hopefully won’t be too long.”

I lifted my pint.

“To Low Down – brilliant f*****g gig.”

A collective, “Cheers.”

My horniness was getting out of control. I needed to get back downstairs and see if I could find a shag.

“So, what do you do, Calum?” asked Carrie.

“Nursing student, at the Royal Infirmary.”

“A nurse – very cool.”

I laughed like she’d just told the world’s funniest f*****g joke. She looked in her mid-thirties – dark skin, dark makeup around her eyes. Her black bobbed hair gave her the look of Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra. She wore what I can only describe as a hippy chic dress. A flower power girl from the seventies.

“Did you have some speed?” she asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

She laughed

“No, not at all. I just did a few lines in the ladies.”

She gave me a look. Wasn’t sure if it meant anything – she had a wedding ring on her finger.

After packing the van, Tommy, the designated driver, took off into the Edinburgh night. Gaz suggested a drink at Negociants. Everyone was speeding, except for Fee. Walking to the bar, Carrie was by my side, her body touching mine, talking about something. All I could think about was getting hold of someone. Maybe in Negociants. Gaz found seats at the corner of a table close to the bar. Carrie sat beside me. I was checking out the females, doing my best not to look like a wide-eyed, randy bastard – and failing. Carrie edged closer. Gaz, Bill, and Fee were band talking. Looked heavy. A speed scan of the bar revealed no obvious hook-ups – I turned my attention to Carrie. I hadn’t taken too much notice of her, but as we talked, I saw she wasn’t bad-looking. I’d been so focused on looking for a student, or someone my age, I’d neglected to notice this woman. She might’ve been the oldest at the table, but she didn’t look out of place. Helping her with a round – I checked out her figure. Voluptuous, curvy, f*****g alright-looking with her hippy dress clinging to her arse. At the bar, she pushed herself a wee bit closer. Her t**s against my arm. Felt firm. She might just be flirting, speeding. She was married, for f**k’s sake. Pints of Stella flowed fast and furious until last call. Even though I’d downed more than a few, I didn’t feel drunk – just merry. All that was left to do was to get back to the flat and have a wank about Carrie. Outside, we waited for Bill, who appeared with one of the barmaids and a cheeky grin. He said goodnight and wandered off towards Lauriston Place. How the f**k did he do that? He sat with us the whole time. How did he chat up a barmaid so f*****g fast? Bastard. Gaz and Fee hailed a taxi – leaving me with Carrie.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“The Royal Mile, near Deacon Brodies.”

It wasn’t far. I offered to walk her – she looked pleased. Along Forrest Road, we made small talk. She was from Galashiels, had been in Edinburgh since she studied at the Art School. Married ten years – no kids. I talked about my job and the Isle of Skye. My mind and eyes were on her t**s, watching them bounce with every step, thinking about the wank I was going to have. I liked speed.

We got to her stair door.

“I’d invite you up, but my husband’s sleeping.”

Laughing, I said it was ok. About to say goodnight, she grabbed my hand, opened the stair door, and dragged me in. Pushing me against the wall, she snogged me really hard. f*****g hell. She was a bit shorter than me – I bent into her. She arched and pushed her groin against me, like – really f*****g hard. Maybe after ten years of marriage, the lust had long gone. I grabbed her t**s. They were as firm and full. We ended up at the back door. In a dark corner – away from the harsh white of the communal stair lights, snogging madly. Her hands grappled with the belt on my Levi’s, undoing it. Maybe I wouldn’t need to wank after all. I was speeding and loving it. She pushed me onto my knees and pulled my head up her dress. Her grip was strong. Thrusting her fanny into my face. My hands grabbed at her arse – yanking at her knickers. I got them down above her knees. Fanny pushed hard; my breathing laboured. If I suffocated, what a way to die. Her grip loosened, and I wondered what was happening. I heard the stair door open. One of her neighbours. We stood, statue still and silent. Foot- steps on the stairs.

What the f**k am I doing? I’d lost control of myself.

A door opened and slammed shut. A mortice key lock. The coast was clear. She pulled and pushed. I couldn’t say no. Could I?

The thrill of almost getting caught made us more excited. If there were medals for fanny licking, I was in the running for bronze – maybe silver. She pulled me to my feet, a man-sized marionette. My tongue licked her face and mouth, her back against the dark corner wall. Her legs moved up and down like she was marching on the spot. She wriggled her knickers down below her knees. My jeans opened and pulled below my arse. Lifting her skirt, I leaned in. My d**k in her hand. She aimed it inside. f*****g hell man. It’s difficult to shag standing up – especially with someone shorter. We got into a rhythm, of sorts. My d**k, anesthetized. I pumped like mad. Speed is f*****g brilliant. What I thought was a wall was a wooden door. Maybe a coal cellar? I banged away; each thrust pro-

ducing a clattering from the door. Loud, too. She didn’t care. I worried about a neighbour coming to investigate the racket. Perhaps even her husband. I kept banging. Speed is f*****g brilliant. She was biting my neck. Sucking hard. Muffling her s*x noises. She poked her finger in my arse. What the f...? I kept pumping; the door kept banging, and she was biting down on my neck – hard. Like a f*****g vice. Her finger pushed further up my hole. Talk about pain and pleasure. Helped me come though. She was snorting into my neck. My f*****g knees were trem- bling. She didn’t let me go. We uncoupled. Panting.

“f**k,” she said. “f*****g f**k, I needed that.”

We caught our breath – did ourselves up and walked to the stairs. She climbed the stairs to her husband, and I walked out

to the Royal Mile. f**k. My neck was throbbing. Her teeth would’ve left a mark. Guilt hit me like a battering ram. How the f**k am I going to explain this to Lisa?

This was bad.

My legs were shaky as f**k crossing the Meadows.

My stair door opened and out came the barmaid from Negociants – shuffling past, saying nothing. Just a smile. Bill was in the kitchen making tea.

“Where’ve ye been, ya dirty bastard?” he asked.

Told him what happened – he killed himself laughing. It wasn’t f*****g funny. My neck looked like one of Dracula’s minions had mauled me.

“Whit the f**k am ah gonnae dae? Lisa will go aff her fuckin’ heid if she sees this.”

My eyes pleaded for an answer. He sipped his tea.

“Ah’ve got an idea.”

‘Whit?’

“You willnae be happy, and it might be painful.”

I was desperate.

“I don’t fuckin’ care aboot the pain.”

Disappearing into his room, he reappeared – dressed to go out.

“Whit the f**k have ye got in mind?”

“We need tae go doon tae the back gerden.”

I followed him to the back of our building. I wouldn’t call it a garden – a patch of lawn with thick evergreen bushes. He dragged me to the bushes.

“Bill, whit the f**k, man?”

“Here’s whit we’re gonnae dae.”

“Whit?”

“We’ve got tae cause mer injuries. Take the focus away from yer nookie bite.”

“Ok, whit are ye thinkin’ ?”

“Ah’m gonnae tan your neck and face with this.”

He pointed to a thick bush.

“Eh?”

“If we can cause mer injuries to that side of yer body, I’ll tell Lisa we were fannying aboot, and I shoved ye and ye fell.”

“Right, so, whit... Ah’m gonnae huv to fall intae this fuckin’ bush......”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence. He pushed me, hard as f**k, into the shrubbery.

“Ouch, ma fuckin’ ankle. Ye could’ve warned me, ya cunt. I think ah’ve sprained it.”

“Aw the better?” He said, a big bastarding grin on his face.

I was about to ask how my face looked when he dived at me – rugby-style. We landed deep in the foliage, all his weight on top of me. Every bastarding branch ripped at my upper body and face.

“Fuckin’ hell! Get the f**k aff me, ya fud.”

He was pissing himself laughing. I couldn’t even get myself upright. He grabbed my hand and heaved me towards him. The left side of my torso was shredded. The branches had scraped across my rib cage all the way up my f*****g cheek.

I looked at my shirt.

“Look whit ye done tae ma good Fred -,” ‘Perry,’ didn’t make out of my mouth; I was back in the

bushes.

“We’ve got tae make it look real, man,” he said, grinning like a maddie.

“Nae mer,” I begged.

He pulled me to my feet and checked my neck under the yellow of the back garden light – I looked a total disaster.

“Haud oan.”

“Whit noo?”

He broke off a thick branch.

“We need tae hide them teeth marks; this is the only way.”

He jabbed my neck. The pain was exquisite. Then, he f*****g whacked me really hard with the branch – in the same f*****g spot. Tears flooded my vision.

“That’s better, right, up tae the flat and huv a shower.”

My Fred Perry was ripped to f**k. Binning it, I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Looked like I’d been dragged through a bush backwards. My body and face were scratched to f**k. The hot water stung like a bastard. Afterwards, I dabbed my injuries dry. f**k me. He was right. The bite mark wasn’t so obvious. I showed him his handiwork.

“Ye can thank me later, just tell Lisa ah jumped oan ye coming up the road, we both fell intae the bushes. She’ll be- lieve it. Guaranteed.”

I believed him.

In bed, the pain was dulled by alcohol and speed. I tried to sleep. The speed was still working; sleep was a long way off. Nothing to do but lie awake feeling guilty. Thank f**k, I wasn’t working for the next two days.

I didn’t see Lisa until later in the week. She knew I was hurt because Bill had told her over the phone, apologizing like mad. The guy should’ve won a f*****g Oscar – a BAFTA, at the very least. When I turned up at her door, she was shocked.

“It's not as bad as it looks,” I said.

She smiled, took my hand, and led me to the kitchen. “Let me clean it.”

I showed her my rib cage and neck. She said nothing.

“Bill was only playing, I started it.”

She was pissed off man – and I felt bad.