“Will you be home by Thursday, so you can come to see the consultant with me?”
“No,” I lie “Take the nurse with you. I want to know everything they say.” We still don’t know if everything is going okay with the baby’s development. Tamara was hitting the Columbian marching powder to the tune of fifty quid a day for the first three months of her pregnancy. I’d sent her to a specialised rehab clinic where both her and the baby were weaned off the shit over an eight week period. And I’m now paying for a nurse to be at her side twenty four seven, just to make sure she doesn’t slip off the wagon, which is what she keeps threatening to do whenever I try and get through to her that we’re not and never will be a couple.
“When will you be home then, Cam? We’re missing you.”
“You and the nurse?” I’m such a comedian.
“No, Cameron, me and the baby.”
I take another gulp of my drink. “Tamara, the baby has no concept of who I am, now. Do what the nurse tells ya. Take your vitamins and attend your appointments. I’ll talk to ya later in the week when you’ve seen the doctor.” I end the call, finish my drink and try Georgia again. Fucking woman is so stubborn. “Pick up, Kitten. For fuck’s sake, you’ve made your point. I know you’re pissed off. She ain’t my girlfriend and I don’t even know if it’s my baby. Let me explain for fuck’s sake. I’m gonna tie you to my bed and make you listen when I get home. Just you fucking wait.”
As I end the call, I notice Dracula’s sister is now sitting next to me. Her lips are far too big for her face, obviously pumped full of whatever women have their faces pumped full of to make themselves look ridiculous and about twenty years older than they really are these days. I don’t think that’s the way it’s supposed to work, but that’s the effect they always seem to achieve.
“What d’ya want?” I ask her, annoyed at her invasion of my space. Although if she’s up for it, I could actually put those lips to good use. I’ve got a massive hard on thinking about Kitten and I really don’t fancy having it squashed in my jeans for the next twenty four hours. My phone bleeps with a text message. When I open it, I see it’s from Jodie.
‘Revenge… What a great feeling’
For fuck’s sake, what does that mean? Fucking women.
Morticia’s hand is squeezing the top of my leg as she leans in and says, “My, aren’t you popular.” I look from her hand to her mouth.
“Darlin’, you have no fuckin’ idea. Now, either get yourself in the bogs and give me a blow job or fuck right off to where you came from.”
She pouts her already pouty lips. I look over her face. Her makeup looks like it’s been laid on with a trowel. I fucking hate too much make-up on a woman; swearing and too much make-up are two things I can’t stand. Kitten was wearing too much makeup on Saturday night. Don’t get me wrong. She still looked fucking gorgeous; she always looks gorgeous, but when she showered and took it all off, she looked stunning. She takes my breath away. Even just thinking about her, I can feel my chest, and my balls for that matter tighten. Fuck, fucking woman.
“And what’s in it for me?”
Shit, I’d forgotten about Morticia Adams next to me. Her hand is now rubbing my cock through my jeans, which is now like a battering ram, thanks to thoughts of Georgia showering, taking off her makeup, her clothes. I finish my drink. “What’s in it for you, love, is a mouthful of my spunk; spit it, swallow it, rub it in your wrinkles, I don’t really give a fuck, now make up your mind, or fuck off.”
She gets up from her stool and says, “Meet me in the disabled toilets in a couple of minutes.” Fuck that. I ain’t waiting. Two of us in the one carzey, everyone’s gonna know what’s happening anyway.
“Go,” I say to her, “I’ll follow.” She takes three steps and I get up. She looks over her shoulder and shakes her head, but I really couldn’t give a fuck. I follow her down a short walkway and into the thankfully empty toilet. I lock the door behind me, and as I turn, she tries to kiss me with her trouty lips. “No, love, straight suck, no kissing.” She huffs as I push her down onto her knees. I undo the button fly of my jeans, but get no further when she pushes my hands away and pulls my cock from my boxers. God, that feels better.
“Wow,” she says, “someone’s pleased to see me.”