Page 2 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘Yeah…and what of it?’ Beth replied. If anything, we were now starting to look like a couple of drunken townies out for a brawl. I was also very aware that Beth was losing rigidity in her legs. My main thought was how I was going to get her home. Fireman’s lift to a cab or drag her about on the Tube?
‘Were there dishes in sink?’ he asked.
‘What sink?’ Beth replied.
‘The one you urinated in after you shagged Ron over there.’ He gestured toward Mr Fringe Curtains and Beth shimmied to the side of me to hide both herself and her shame.
‘No?’ Her indignant reply led us to believe she wasn’t sure.
‘How could you not find a toilet in someone’s gaff?’
‘I was drunk, it was one of those giant shared houses where every door I opened was another bedroom or storage. I was busting. It was either the sink or the floor.’
What Danny did next was brilliant.
‘OI, RON!’
The group of men ‘Ron’ was stood with at the bar all turned around. Danny raised his beer at them. Beth went an even brighter shade of raspberry. The sheer audacity shocked me to silence; people around us went very quiet.
‘YOUR NAME RON, FELLA?’ He singled out the one in question.
‘My name’s Seb, mate.’
His friends were starting to puff out their chests in a territorial way. Man, this is how bar fights start, I thought. I was twenty-four and going to get glassed in a bar because my sister possibly took a whizz in this man’s sink.
Beth clung on to Danny’s arm. ‘Please stop talking now—’
‘NO BOTHER, BIRD HERE THOUGHT SHE KNEW YOU FROM BACK WHEN.’
Beth waved back. The men in the group shrugged and shook their heads. They also started to relax, wearing looks of pity now that perhaps Danny was just a bit of a social oddball. I was still trying to work out the Northern vernacular but as first impressions went was also surprised by the size of this man’s balls. I may have laughed to that effect.
Beth punched him in the arm. ‘I don’t belieeeeeve you!’
‘Just…there are a lot of people in London. Statistically, it can’t have been likely to be him. Did you use his dishcloth after to dab yourself down?’
By this time I was in hysterics. I was protective of my sisters but there was also fun to be had in winding them up and this man seemed intent on being an accomplice. Beth wasn’t getting the joke and hit him again. Another man appeared at this point, watching my drunken sister take him on.
‘Making friends again I see, Danny? You got beef with them tossers at the bar? We could take ‘em.’
Beth stopped play-hitting to give this gent the once over. I’ll admit he was the better looking of the two; better taste in footwear and denim and a well-defined jaw.
‘Ladies, I’m Stu…How do?’ He waved a continental beer about his person. He was the more relaxed of the two lads, too cocky for my liking. Beth’s demeanour changed and she re-jigged her boobs.
By the similarity of their accents, I had a punt. ‘Brothers?’ Danny said nothing but raised his ale bottle in the affirmative. ‘Same chins,’ I muttered. Danny smiled. Stu was giving Beth the eye while I tried to prop her up.
‘These two are sisters,’ said Danny. ‘Meg and Beth. She’s a journalist and this one likes to pee in sinks.’
I laughed. Stu did a thumbs up, the revelation clearly not deterring him from checking out my sister’s arse.
‘Excuse me,’ intervened Beth. ‘It could be worse, Megs here once shat outside someone’s front door.’ Oooh, deflection. Cow. She and Stu burst into laughter and I shook my head, slowly. Danny started sniggering but held a hand out for a high five. I placed my palm in the air and reluctantly engaged.
‘It was a dirty protest. I was at university and he was a sexual predator who’d taken advantage of a mate.’
Danny’s smile got broader. It was bizarre to think I was winning him over. He suddenly seemed more interested in me for being able to take a stand using the contents of my bowels.
‘Meg, rhymes with smeg…’ Stu joked. Beth thought this hilarious. It wasn’t, but Danny and I both read their intention instantly and I allowed Beth to drape herself off the better-looking brother while I stood there in awkward conversation with the older one.
Was there a spark with Danny? There was something refreshing about his candour and he seemed a solid sort. However, there was something that told me he was the kind of straight man who was here simply to drink. After he finished his dark ale (heave), he’d go home via a curry house in time to catch a re-run ofEurotrash. In the morning, he’d wake without a hangover and do something sensible like go for a run or walk a dog, a sensible dog with a Northern name like Lad.
