Blue Collar by Danny King Page B

hanging
     on to the girl who was smiling warmly at me from across the table.
    Almost.

7 Idol hands
    A t eleven o’clock Charley started looking at her watch and fidgeting. I sensed our evening was coming to an end and wondered what happened now. Should I try my luck and suggest a nightcap back at hers or should I do my usual stupid gentlemanly bit,
     kiss her hand, take a manly bow and get a large doner kebab for the train ride home?
    ‘Well, I’ve had a really lovely evening,’ Charley said, giving me a look that filled my mouth with the taste of onions and
     chilli sauce. ‘But I guess we should be going. We don’t want to end up like last week.’
    What, in bed together? I wondered.
    ‘You’re right,’ I said, looking about for puddles to lay my coat across. ‘Well, I’ve had a really nice night too. Perhaps
     we could go out again another night, maybe in the week again?’
    ‘Yeah. Or maybe we could go back to my place now,’ she suggested.
    ‘Yeah, or maybe we could do that,’ I agreed, and followed her out of the pub in a semi-daze.
    ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,’ she said, when we got outside. ‘I’m really not in the habit of doing this
     sort of thing.’
    Funnily enough, neither was I, which was why it was so fantastic that it was happening now. As for getting the wrong idea
     about Charley, I wasn’t sure I’d had a right one yet, so I was more than happy to give my brain the rest of the night off
     and let my heart take things from here – with back-up provided by the lads downstairs.
    ‘That’s OK, I don’t think anything of you, I promise,’ I duly promised, wondering if that had come out right.
    ‘You’re a fast worker. Most guys save that line for the next morning,’ Charley pointed out.
    ‘Er, no, that’s not what I mean,’ I fumbled, but Charley assured me it was OK, she knew what I meant.
    ‘So you’ll respect me in the morning, huh?’ she asked.
    ‘I’ll worship you in the morning,’ I replied, causing my brain to leap out of bed and come charging downstairs in his slippers
     to see just who the fuck was letting my feet have a go on my mouth.
    ‘From thinking nothing of me to worshipping me? You really are a fast worker.’ Charley smiled, holding my gaze for a moment
     before slipping an arm around my waist and giving me a kiss.
    Charley had a nice kiss. Her lips touched mine. They parted a little and we tasted each other’s mouths with tenderness and
     restraint. Not like some of the birds I’ve known. After a few glasses of wine Jo used to kiss like that thing John Hurt got
     stuck to his face in Alien , while Helen before her used to attack my mouth like her tongue was trying to defect from her own head and make it over to
     mine to start a new life. Still, neither of them were as bad as Jill the Goth. I only ever went home with Jill once. Once
     was enough. She’d been OK in the pub and in the cab home, but then when we’d got back to her place she sank her teeth into
     my tongue during our first smooch and held me fast, as I hollered, howled and tried to gouge her eyes out.
    I honestly thought she was going to bite my tongue off and scrambled across the room and away from her when she finally let
     me go, checking my mouth for blood and the windows for bars.
    ‘Pain is good,’ she simply smirked.
    My lips, mouth and tongue didn’t go anywhere near any part of Jill again and after a quick glass of water I made my excuses
     (namely, ‘You’re fucking bananas and I’m out of here’) and ran off into the night. I couldn’t even get anything to eat on
     the way home as my tongue hurt so much and it spent the rest of the weekend bathing itself in ice creams and quivering behind
     my teeth whenever strange women looked my way.
    ‘You’ve got a nice kiss,’ I told Charley when we pulled back from each other.
    ‘Thanks. I should have, I’ve been practising on my hand all afternoon.’
    Which again made two of us.
    Charley twisted