by Jodie Louise
Author's website: http://uk.geocities.com/jodie_mouse
Disclaimer: not mine, borrowed
Author's Notes: posted originally to ds_flashfiction
I look so close I can see every pore of my face. Slowly drawing the kohl line around my eyes. Wobbly. And smear it.
Survey. The black clothes, the heavy chain around my neck. Boots.
And at that moment I decide I wanna dress like this forever.
My ass is sore. I turn from the mirror and watch as Tony takes a long drag on his cigarette. I can see him -- perhaps he is imagining the way my muscles lie under my skin. And looking again through eyes so much older I wonder if he sees jailbait there.
I go back to the mirror again trying to see if you can tell what's happened by looking at me. Like if I've grown a second queer head or something. An' I wonder if Stella will be able to tell. I had kissed her last week but she hadn't let me go any further but Tony had. Tony gets up from the couch walks over and puts his arm around me. I watch our reflections in the mirror.
Later I will think that he looks slightly ridiculous with his black jeans unfastened and slight beer gut. Later I will think he is old. Much much later I will look back on this moment and think Tony is young. Much much later I will lay in bed next to a woman who no longer loves me and remember how Tony made me shiver. How his tongue swirled around the inside of my ass like you do with the bottom of an ice-cream cone.
But then and there I trace a finger along his arm, stopping over the tattoo.
"I want one." I say.
He smiles and takes a drag on his cigarette.
"I know this bloke," says Tony in the accent I still haven't got used to yet, but much much later will recognise as exaggerated cockney, "I'll take you there."
I felt so happy then. Wish I could preserve that moment -- well, not so much the moment, but rather the feeling -- preserve and bottle it. Later I will know that to Tony I was just another groupie. Later I will look at the tattoo on my arm and hate him for it. Much much later I will look at the tattoo and realise it is as much me as anything else is. I will forgive Tony, I will forgive myself.
I will lay on my couch and listen to Tony's band -- pogo at my favourite song -- just like I did twenty years ago.
End Survey by Jodie Louise: firstname.lastname@example.org
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