Se* & *rugs & Rock & Roll and Nursing

For lovers and the lost "He did everything to fill the rooms with things he thought important, but like him the sparkle had gone. He tried to fill his hearts dark corners with emotions. He didn’t understand empty head, empty bed love words, unsaid all that’s left is an empty man." Low Down – Empty Man Prologue I know myself... I know what I did was wrong and I’m not proud of it. There’s a Peter Gabriel song, No Self Control. Man, that song could’ve been written for me. No self-control – that was my problem. I’m not a cunt, honest, and I didn’t deliberately set out to hurt people. I mean it, I really do, but hurt people I did – Lisa especially. f**k. Like I said, no f*****g self-control. MY OLD MAN WAS FROM Uig on the Isle of Skye. Met my mum at a dance in Glasgow. After getting married, they moved to Partick. An only child, I spent every summer in Uig with my Granny in Idrigil. f*****g loved it. When my folks split up – I lived with my mum in a flat on Dumbarton Road. My Dad stayed close – just off Byres Road. One summer, I asked my Granny if I could stay and go to school in Portree. She loved the idea and spoke to my folks. Mum wasn’t too keen at first – literally had to beg her. She agreed, eventually – thank f**k. In August of 1974, I began my first year at Portree High. Man. I really enjoyed it there, not because I was a swot or anything – I wasn’t. School was great for the craic and the lassies. Mostly the lassies. Never had any problems talking to girls at school – especially good-looking ones. Didn’t matter if they were older or younger – I wasn’t shy. Making friends and having a laugh – I found it easy. Unfortunately, the lassies saw me as a friend and not a potential boyfriend. Annoying as f**k, man, and it made finding a girlfriend impossible – no matter how hard I tried. My problem was I chased lassies I had absolutely no chance with. Most were older – with boyfriends. Very few showed any interest in me, but there were a couple who did. No doubt about it. They encouraged my flirting and loved the attention. If I’d been so unacceptable to their eye – they’d never give me the time of day. Not much happened though – an occasional snog at a dance – if I was lucky. Taking a summer job at Uig Hotel changed everything. It was 1979, and I was a sixteen-year-old virgin – full of raging hormones and a constant hard-on. Thank God for wanking. Had there been a m**********n class at school – I’d have been top of it. Wanking was something I was good at. Could’ve been valedictorian. Good to be good at something. The hotel staff were students from the mainland and beyond, studying catering or hotel management courses – mostly female. Rebecca Jones, Becca, had worked the previous summer, and I had seen her a couple of times in the Fer- ry Inn during one of my many underage drinking sessions. From London – twenty-two and pretty sexy. Long dirty fair hair, warm dark blue eyes and, from what I could tell – a decent-looking body. Fun to work with too – she liked a carry on and never took work, or herself, too seriously. She had had a boyfriend the previous year – some guy from Portree. This year she was single, and during a staff party, she showed more than a little interest in me. A Saturday night – we were drinking and blabbering over each other. Music blared, Bryan Ferry, I think. She sat next to me and all night her hands kept touching my leg or my arm. I didn’t think too much about it. We were all pretty steaming. When the party broke up, we staggered back to our rooms. The girls stayed above the kitchen – accessed by a wee wooden bridge. My room was a chalet in the garden. Two of the girls said goodnight – leaving Becca outside with me. I was totally green when it came to reading female signals. f*****g clueless, man. It was a warm night; the sky was purple – not quite dark. A star or two twinkled, and I was slobbering about my love of ELO when she pulled me in and snogged me. f**k. She gave me the tongue. French kissing – we called it at school. A rare thing – most of my previous snogs involved a lot of air sucking and definitely no tongues. Went on for ages. I wasn’t an expert kisser – she was. I just copied what she did – and we got into a brilliant rhythm. My brain raced a mile a minute. Any minute now, she’d stop and say goodnight. Actual intercourse was the furthest thing from my mind. She didn’t stop, and I went for glory. My hand was on her tit. Now she’d call it quits. Nope, she let me feel away. f*****g hell. Her hand was under my shirt – stroking my back. My brain went into overdrive. Its ok, it’s ok, calm the f**k down. Just relax and enjoy. You got a snog. You got a feel. Everything’s golden. She stopped the snog. That’s it. Finito! Calum, your number’s up. Time to come in, boy. I was happy. Who wouldn’t be? I’d gotten the f*****g tongue. She didn’t leave or say goodnight. Hand still stroking my back. My d**k was hard as f**k. She gave me a look – her eyes spoke. What they said, I couldn’t translate – felt it though. “Are you a virgin, Calum?” (Smile. Her) “Yes.” (Smile. Me) “Let’s go.” She led me by the hand to her room. The bedside light radiated a warm glow. Not too bright. Our shadows slow danced on the wall. I wasn’t nervous. f*****g excited. Eyes on her every move. She slotted a tape into the cassette deck. Bish by Stephen Bishop. Perfect soundtrack for late-night snogging. She undid her blouse. No words said. My heart was pounding. Black bra. t**s looked f*****g brilliant. My eyes were glued – su- per-f*****g glued. Casual as f**k like – she took off her jeans. Black matching knickers. Ok, ok, ok. That’s it. That’s it. That’s f*****g it. I won’t get to see anymore. “Calum, take off your clothes and get into bed.” Off came her bra and knickers. Right in front of me! Fuck... We were going to f*****g do it. Like a mad man – I pulled at my t-shirt and dropped my trousers. We stood naked – I pulled her close. She kissed me. It felt different. The kiss, fuck... I don’t know. Just did. My hands. Her t**s. n*****s – small and hard. For the first time in its life, my d**k had someone else’s hand on it. f**k. Ask any guy, any f*****g guy, and they’ll tell you – the first time someone else’s hand wraps around their d**k is one of the best feelings ever. Ever. We got on the bed. Can’t lie. Well, I could. Won’t. I came within seconds of being inside her. Nanoseconds. “Bet it’ll be hard again in a minute or two,” she said. (Smile. Sexy. Her) I’d say it was a minute – could have been two. Each time we did it – I lasted longer. How many times did we shag? We didn’t sleep a wink. Wore each other out. Becca came too – once. Breathless and sweaty – the clock informed us it was time for work. Didn’t want to leave her room. That s*x cocoon. Wanted to stay there for as long as I had a heart pumping blood. In the morning light, her naked body looked like a work of art. Fucking hell. I felt f*****g brilliant. “Shower,” she ordered – I obeyed. Serving breakfast – I was in a total daze. A s*x daze. Was this love? Fucking lust, definitely. ⯑⯑⯑ That summer was a blur of work, booze, and loads of f*****g. I was sixteen and at my s****l peak – so Becca said. Not saying I was, like, you know – great at the love-making- ing thing. I was only an apprentice doing the equivalent of a City and Guilds in shagging. Didn’t get a certificate at the end though. Man, Becca was fun to be with. A f*****g revelation – literally. Without inhibition. She’d shag anywhere. Won’t bore you with the details. Our s****l liaison locations were wide and varied. Indoors and out. If you’ve been to the top of Castle Ewan in the Ferry Glen – we f****d there. Nice. Cleaning the guest rooms together – we shagged in the bathroom. Became a regular thing. Nearly got caught by the day manager. Becca, arse on the sink – legs akimbo. Me banging away like mad. She wouldn’t let me go. The manager called my name. “Harder, f**k me harder,” she ordered. I obeyed. When she came – I could go. Pulling up my trousers, tucking in my shirt, sweat lashing from me. The manager thought I was red-faced and sweaty because I was working hard. Yeah, right. If she only knew. On days off, we’d spend drunken, sexy nights in the Portree Hotel. I couldn’t get enough of her. Here’s the thing though. All the time we spent together, naked – I’m not sure I had an emotional connection. I mean... I didn’t fall mad- ly in love with her or anything. Madly in lust was fine by me – I know it suited her. Maybe I did love her on some level. I thought about her all the time. Man, she was carefree and aloof. ⯑⯑⯑ By September, the summer season was all but over, and Becca was returning to London. Her last night, we sat in her room talking – no f*****g. Funny – part of me wanted to tell her I loved her. Part of me wanted to thank her for the summer f**k-fest. Didn’t know how to put it into words – I said nothing. Maybe she knew. I hope she did. Never saw her again.