My First Kiss

Norbert

Chapter 37

My First Kiss

First thing on Monday morning, before he’s even buttoned up his lab coat, GT storms up to me and points an accusing finger in my face. ‘You cheated.’

‘You’re right,’ I say, happily. ‘I bribed Butch with a bag of choccy drops.’

Everyone laughs.

‘When it came to the big one, your dog bottled it, boyo,’ says Healer Dai.

‘Like master, like dog,’ says Velcro.

‘You’re wallet-tickled,’ says Rube. ‘Pay the man.’

GT snatches five ten-pound notes from his wallet, scrunches them in his fist and throws them angrily in my face.

‘Bad show, that man,’ says Warnetires-Skidmore, bitterly. ‘Bad show.’

I pick up the notes and smooth them out. ‘Thank you, GT. I’ll ask Weggie to write you a thankyou note.’

He grunts and sits down at the authorization desk.

‘Now it’s time for the other payment,’ says Dora Mae Doll, smirking at Isabel.

Led by Baldy, everyone starts a slow handclap, accompanied by a chorus of: ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss.’

‘No way,’ yells Isabel. ‘Every time the scrofulous little oik comes near me he starts to breathe heavily and gasp. It’s disgusting.’

‘I’m practicing my asthma,’ I say.

‘Kiss, kiss, kiss,’ they chant.

I shyly stand my ground and wait.

She colours and her lovely face scrunches in anger. ‘I’ll do it outside the toilet so I don’t have far to run to puke.’

‘Here, here, here,’ they chant, ‘now, now, now’.

They continue to goad until she walks towards me. The clapping speeds up. She halts in front of me, her glorious loolybells inches from my upper chest. I raise my head and pucker up, determined to keep my eyes open.

She says: ‘Could someone please put a bag over his head?’

‘Do it, do it, do it, kiss the gargoyle,’ they chorus.

It sounds to me like they’ve been rehearsing, but I don’t care. I am in her zone, invading her space, staring at her rapturously like she is an ice cream in a desert. The fragrance of her Twinkle Twat ignites the trouser devil.

She sighs and leans down towards me. The tip of her pert nose touches mine and I feel the soft press of her loo-loos against my chest. She turns her head slightly, her nose brushes my cheek and her lips touch mine, but I don’t feel a kiss.

‘What are you waiting for?’ says Dora Mae Blimp. ‘Tickle his tonsils.’

I feel her sweet breath caress my mouth like a soft summer breeze and she presses her lips against mine. I hear and feel the smack of a kiss and then she pulls back.

My first ever face-to-face kiss with a female is over within a second, but it still feels good. It feels great. My heart is pounding and I am breathless. Everyone is clapping and cheering. Isabel doesn’t turn away and she doesn’t run to the toilet with a hand clamped over her mouth. She looks sideways at her boyfriend, who is assiduously typing on the Oracle.

‘Did that upset you, darling? Did that make you jealous?’

‘Humph,’ he expostulates, without looking up.

She swings her left hand round in a wide arc and clatters him with such force GT head butts the monitor.

‘Look at me when I’m talking to you,’ she yells, ‘you muff diving son of a clit licker.’

Dora Mae Blimp lowers her eyes and sticks a toffee in her mouth.

GT rises to his feet, mad as hell, and I think for a second he will hit her back.

Isabel scrunches hold of the front of my lab coat with both fists and yanks. Our mouths clash so violently I fear I’ve chipped a tooth. Her tongue forces its way inside my mouth. I swoon and go limp. She drags me back up and probes ever deeper, like a mole snuffling for worms. Sensations I didn’t know exist swirl through my body. Empty words like ardour and fervour suddenly have meaning. (I don’t include passion. I understand passion. As you know, it’s how I feel about vintage farm tractors.) She pulls away, her breath like a hot desert wind, steaming my glasses. For a second she rests her forehead against mine. Her hair tickles my face and a strand brushes my tongue. It feels like we are the only two people in the lab, in the universe. She lets go gently and my feet rest back on the floor, though it feels like I am floating.

Isabel Wringing-Lowd? Not half. My head is clanging. I am so hard my third sock will need to be darned.

‘It’s over, you prick, I shall never speak to you again,’ she snaps, and storms out the lab.

‘But…’ I say.

‘Relax, boyo,’ says Healer Dai, slapping my shoulder. ‘She meant the other prick.’