"It were then that I saw in my mind’s eye the pack of condoms tucked inside one of my textbooks, and the textbook still on the shelf in my bedroom at home. ‘Fuck,’ I said."
Imtiaz by Sunjeev Sahota
The last time I remember being happy - properly happy, wind-in-my-hair happy -were when we went away for Becka's twenty-first. She'd been dropping hints for ages that she were expecting something special.
'Paris, Rome, Milan. I'm not fussy.' We were queuing up at the main uni canteen. 'It'd be good to get away for a bit. Do --'
'Something nice,' I finished for her. She were always wanting to do 'something nice'.
'Don't worry. I've got it all in hand.'
'You have?' She sounded doubtful.
'Of course. It's not every day one turns twenty-one, you know.'
'Oh, is it not? Well, I do hope you have something good prepared. Do we have reservations?'
'Absolutely. In a very exclusive establishment.'
'A good table, I trust?'
'With the most perfect view, of course.'
'Marvellous!'
I took her camping. One of Abba's taxi friends were in Pakistan and I'd managed to wangle his motor for the weekend. We found a great little spot in the Peaks. It were green and empty and just us for miles. I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows and set about pitching the tent up. I wouldn't let her help - I wanted to do it myself - so she just waited a way away, shivering as the hem of her yellow anorak whipped about her knees.
'I don't believe you. Camping? Fucking camping?'
'What?' I said, scuttling round to hammer the next peg in.
'It's what you wanted. Just me and you.'
'Let's not forget Daisy,' she said, all sarcastic, and the cow in the next field groaned, as if it knew.
It were dark by the time the tent were ready for us both. We left the flap unzipped to let in some moonlight, and Becka brought in the hamper from the car. Afterwards, we got into our sleeping bag and undressed. We started messing, and she reached down and began tugging me to life. It were then that I saw in my mind's eye the pack of condoms tucked inside one of my textbooks. And the textbook still on the shelf. In my bedroom. At home.
'Fuck,' I said. I got dressed and drove down to a pub we'd passed on the way up, but I couldn't see a condom machine in the toilets, and I didn't want to ask if they knew where I could find one. I even stopped at a small countryfied petrol station, but they didn't have any either. Plenty of organic gerbil feed - 'cos who doesn't need that? - but no fucking condoms. Becka were lying on her side when I got back, reading a magazine with the light from her mobile.
'No luck,' I said, undressing again, getting in beside her.
'You'll just have to keep your grubby paws off me for once.'
'I'm only human,' she said.
We picked up where we left off. Tongues, teeth. Your legs scratching hard against mine. You sempt desperate, and that were hot, letting me handle you a bit roughly. I think being alone in the outdoors made us lose our heads a bit, B, because it were almost like we were fighting. Squirming and pulling at each other. I remember the sleeping bag kept getting in the way, and us laughing and kicking it off until it were just the two of us naked in the tent, my hand on your warm pouchy stomach. Or at least I thought we were laughing, but when I looked your eyes were wet. I pulled back. You said it were nothing, just that you'd never felt about someone the way you felt about me. That pretty much slayed me. I sat up, on my knees, and without really thinking said, 'Let's get married.'
You laughed. 'What? I'm being for real.'
'Sorry. It's just hard to take seriously when . . .'
You gestured, and I looked down to where my erection were pointing straight at you. I moved on top, lengthening out along your hot body. I love the feeling of my chest rubbing coarsely against you. I moved your knees apart.
'Imz,' you said, all caution.
'It'll be right. I'll be in and out. Promise.'
You shrieked with laughter, but then snapped your hand over your mouth, as if there were someone around who might've heard.
Friday, 29 October, 2010
In Character studies
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