Losing It. Jane Asher

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pictured Stacey’s hand, and the ring half buried in the flesh. And it was then – I’m sure of it – exactly then, as I recalled the soft, white skin and the twinkling of those cheap little blue stones against the ludicrous rococo swirls of gold, that I knew everything had changed. Gone in one microsecond of terrible knowledge was all vestige of the so-called fatherly feelings that I’d professed for the girl. Gone, to be replaced in the same instant by a searing stab of desire so intense that I had to dip my head in sudden dizziness for fear of fainting. The shock was total. How could I possibly trust the bizarre message that every nerve in my brain and body was screaming at me: that a girl whom I had met – no, not even met, encountered at most – a mere dozen or so times, and with whom I had had the briefest of conversations, was affecting my emotions so suddenly and drastically? It was a moment that needs poetry or music to attempt a description – no mere words can convey that kind of emotional attack. Not because of its beauty – far from it: the realisation was closer to horror than to delight – but because the force of such a moment, that takes one’s heart in its grip and squeezes it until life itself is threatened, is beyond account.

       Stacey

      ‘What are you doing later, then?’ I asked Sheila.

      Sheila’s always doing something, and sometimes she’ll let me go too. Denisha says it’s to make her feel smug, ’cos she knows I never go nowhere otherwise, and it makes her feel like she’s doing something good, like for charity, you know. But it ain’t that – I know that. She likes me going with her sometimes ’cos it makes her look better than she really is next to me. She dresses like she’s really something, does Sheila, but I know she knows she ain’t really. If she goes out with Janet you can see the difference. It’s all make-up and tarty clothes with Sheila – if you see her without all that you can see how horrible she is. No wonder she never keeps none of the boys more than once or twice of going out. Once she sleeps with them that’s it. I know she tries to keep her make-up on ’cos I’ve seen her in the morning when she’s come back from a night with one of her fellas and her eye make-up’s all smudgy. You can tell she’s tried to wipe it off from under her eyes when she’s woken up. But it don’t fool them none – they know what she really looks like. If you ask me they know that anyway, but they think she’s worth a quick fuck or two. But they ain’t never gonna give her their babies, I can tell you that.

      So, anyway, I fancied a drink or two so I asked her what she was doing. I’m always hoping a bleeding miracle’ll happen and I’ll get myself laid, too, if I’m honest. I’ve had guys come on to me, mind, but it’s always in a freaky kind of way – they’re turned on ’cos I’m fat. I can always tell, even when that guy at the club that night I went with Sheila come out with all that about me being pretty.

      Denisha always says they don’t mean nothing of what they say when their cocks are stiff and they’ll do anything just to get you to let them do it, or to get you to suck them off and that, and I knew what she meant when that little runt was telling me all that shit about being gorgeous or whatever he said. I could see he was just dying for it and he was all sweaty and disgusting and I knew he wanted to rub himself. I nearly let him do it to me, too, just ’cos it was so good to hear him say all that shit about my eyes being so pretty and that. And I wanted to do it once, in fact, ’cos I ain’t never done it proper. Not really proper fucking like in the films – there’s been a couple of times when I was smaller in the old days that boys got their thing half in but each time they both came so quick I never felt much. Anyway, what with this creep telling me my eyes was pretty I nearly let him just so’s I could say I done it but then he said about my mouth being – what was it? – not lovely – luscious! That’s it – luscious! That put me right off ’cos it was so stupid.

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