Looking for trouble

Lynne wasn't looking for trouble that early evening in the Britannia
Inn, but trouble came sauntering over with a grin on its face all the
same. Her self-esteem was at an all time low and she wished desperately
that the plush red velvet bench seat would open up and swallow her
whole. Or if it couldn't actually manage ALL of her in one swallow then
maybe three manageable bite-sized pieces would do. As usual the three
stooges were late. Anne, Jan, and Yvonne had said seven thirty, but
seven thirty had been and gone and still she sat sipping on her diet
coke and waiting. This was only her second night out in five years and
playing the 'back out there' games weren't coming easily to her.

Last week the four friends had been a part of, and had not faired at
all badly in, the Silver Sphere weekly pub quiz. It was agreed that far
from it being a once only girls night out that they would go home and
lay the law down to their respective husbands to make it a regular
weekly thing.

But of course, Lynne had no husband to lay the law or anything else
down to. Looking forward to the quiz had been the light in an otherwise
empty week. Now at seven fifty three and sixteen seconds she was
beginning to wonder if the others would turn up at all. Maybe Phil,
Nigel and Ron had put a stop to their wild nights out after only one
had been enjoyed. This would not have bothered her greatly, after all
she was missing Coronation Street on the television, but sitting there
in the hostile pub and looking a total fool was starting to make her
feel most uncomfortable.

She'd noticed that man the previous week, he had a nice smile and a
confident air about him. At one point she thought that he was looking
over at her and smiling. She had blushed and felt silly, why should he
be looking at her when he didn't even know her?

Anyway here he was again and he was walking towards her. What now?
Lynne smiled shyly at the stranger as he sauntered over the carpet and
up to the table. He smiled back, such a nice smile, and that one was
most definitely, exclusively for her. He turned to study the jukebox
beside her. Had Lynne been a regular of the Silver Sphere she would
have known that Ray Hawthorn NEVER put music on the jukebox, but she
had only been once before and wasn't to know that.

He selected a few songs and turned back towards her with that smile
that should really have carried a government health warning.
"You look lonely, are you all right there?"

Lonely indeed. Oh gawd, he knew that she'd been stood up. He knew that
she was a sad old cow alone in the world who couldn't even rely on her
three female friends to turn up for a date as arranged. He was mocking
her. Lynne had no idea that far from mocking her, Ray was fighting his
own insecurity demons. It had taken a lot of courage, not to mention
several beers in rapid succession to be able to walk over to the other
side of the room and talk to this stranger who had crept into his mind
and lurked there all week.

"Oh I'm okay thank-you. I'm just waiting for my friends, they'll be
here any minute"

She flustered and floundered inside, delighted that the man had spoken
to her, but externally her voice came out like liquid ice. She had her
legs tightly crossed and her hands clenched in her knee. Body language
and voice said "Back off matey, hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude
to intrude on a lady?"

"Oh that's okay then" Ray blushed and stepped from one foot to the
other awkwardly "I'll leave you to it."

Lynne just smiled and watched him retreat back to his leering friend at
the other side of the bar. She had no idea that she had just been
'almost' chatted up. As far as she was concerned a nice man had been
concerned for her lack of company and was passing no more than a
pleasantry and an observation.

CHAPTER TWO

The fifteen-year-old walked down the canal towpath. Actually to use the
verb 'walk' is a monumental understatement. She certainly moved in a
southerly direction toward the lock five hundred yards in front of her,
but she glided with an undulance of grace and attitude, the buttocks in
her tight, denim jeans jostling like two puppies tumbling in a hessian
sack. Her body language staging a war between desirable sex kitten and
aggressive tomboy, each posture adding to the other giving her a
'something' all of her own. While all the other girls in town wore
platform shoes with their tight flared jeans and halter-tops she wore
base ball boots. The white rubber 'baseballs' clinging to her slender
ankles as she strode out in a boyish, yet sensual strut. The sun was
her best friend in all the world and she held her spine ramrod straight
and flung her head back to welcome her friend's heat on her face. The
world, the town and the canal belonged to her that glorious day.

The lads with their skinny bodies and singular chest hair each, hung
around the lock end. Fishing rods had been abandoned for the day having
lost their battle for attention against the heat of the sun and the icy
lure of the cold, dark water. About fifteen of them loitered in and
around the locks, hormones charging the air around them noticeable even
before the lads themselves were. They were dressed uniformly in frayed
cut-offs and nothing else, and they tried very hard to remember to keep
their taught baby-muscles flexed at all times. The horseplay was rough
and intimidating to anyone passing by. These were wild mustang colts
made loco by sun and freedom, each vying to be noticed as the stallion
of the team.

Three kids sitting in the middle of the lock gate were the first to
notice the girl. The middle lad of the trio whistled long and low and
every male head turned to search out the object of his admiration. Soon
the summer afternoon atmosphere was rent and tattered by the
accumulated whistles and whoops of all the adolescent boys. Jimmy
Johnson sitting to the left of Jat, who whistled first, had just taken
a tentative draw on the joint that was being passed around. Little Jim
was new to the joys of smoking pot, in fact he had only had his first
cigarette three weeks earlier and mastering the art of inhaling without
choking was taking some doing. If he hated the taste of tobacco then
cannabis was ten times worse and burned his throat all the way down to
his belly button, or at least that's the way it felt. He felt horribly
sick and if nobody was looking then he'd draw the smoke into his mouth
and then turn his head away and blow it straight out again without
taking it down his airway at all. However he couldn't get away with
this very often, if any of the others saw him 'whimping out' in such a
shameful manner then he'd have the piss taken out of him for the rest
of the day. When Jat whistled Jimmy saw the girl, he breathed smoke and
swallowed at the same time. He hastily passed the spliff on to Jat
before coughing so hard that he fell off the lock gate and splashed
into the water fifteen feet below. As he went under he took in an
enormous gulp of dirty canal water, this on top of the cannabis was
just too much for the young boy. He made it over to the side and just
managed to scramble up the iron ladder before vomiting loudly into the
grass at the side of the lock. His friends laughed, and kicked him,
they splashed water over his head and called him a wanker. Oblivious to
all their taunts Jimmy threw up again just for good measure.

Jat took two long pulls on the joint, taking down the second before
even exhaling the first. It was smoking tequniques like this that
separated the men from the boys. He knew the girl was watching him as
she drew level with the lock and he wanted to make sure that she
noticed him above all the others and a couple of the fuckers were
better looking than him.

He passed the joint over to Des Lewis and spat.

"Hey you C'mere" He said with all the finesse and charm of the average
sixteen year old.

The girl pretended not to hear and continued walking, although now she
swung her hips just a little bit wider with each step.

"Hey gorgeous don't go, c'mere"

This time she stopped and turned to look at him with a fained
expression of boredom. She glanced at her watch and then began walking
towards him in an unhurried and casual manner. Her lip curled in
disgust as she walked past the boy kneeling in the grass with vomit
dripping off the end of his chin and from out of his nose.

"Yeah? Wadda ya want?"

"You"

She tried her very hardest but couldn't stop the smile from spreading
across her face. He was close enough to see her eyes now and although
teenage lads aren't one bit interested in the size, colour or shape of
a girl's eyes, these particular eyes captivated him. So much so that it
took him a full five seconds to lower his gaze pointedly to her
breasts.

"In your dreams baby" she answered coolly.

"Sweetheart you'll be in my dreams every night from now on. Shall I get
my mother to send you the laundry bill?"

She soaked up the flirting in the same way she had absorbed the suns
heat, and she loved it.

That was all it took for Jat to stake his claim on the girl and most of
the others had turned back to their sunbathing and frolicking in the
water. Jat rose from the centre of the lock gate and walked like a
trapeze artist long the narrow piece of wood to terra firma. He jumped
onto the grass at the side of the lock and stood a few feet from where
the girl now waited for him.
"C'mon lets walk a bit." He winked at her seductively secure in the
knowledge that as she had walked from the tow path over to the bridge
that she wanted his company. Jat stuffed his hands in his cut-off
pockets and adopted the strut that he painstakingly emulated from a
much smoother John Travolta. Jat's version may have lacked the class
but she thought it was cute all the same.
As they fell into step and walked back towards the tow path, Jat curled
his tongue behind his teeth and let out a high pitched whistle. A dog,
black and mean looking came hurtling towards them. "Hey Spliff here
lad" Jat called out, a hint of pride in his voice as the large mongrel
skidded to a halt beside him.
"Oi Jat" yelled Don Tate, "Tell her what the mutt's really
called"
Jat blushed furiously.
"Okay." He explained sheepishly. "He's not really called spliff,
that's his nick-name he's called Beauty. Hey what can I say! my sister
got to choose and she's two years older than me. And anyway" He
continued more defiantly "He doesn't really answer to anything so you
can call him what you like. I think even my sister feels stupid calling
him Beauty now, she was only nine at the time.

They looked down at the dog who had his head to one side in a quizzical
expression that said to the pair "Come on; I ask you, do I look like a
beauty?" It had to be noted that a less beautiful dog would be hard to
find. He stood as tall as a small pony with a wiry black coat and legs
that looked as though they belonged to a giraffe. Somehow boy and dog
had a look of belonging together. Both had black eyes and black hair
and both were as scruffy as a pit pony.

The Teenagers chatted and they each swapped easily between the roles of
spider and fly as they verbally circled each other in the flirting
game.
"So" said Jat eventually "where are you taking me tonight?"
She screwed her eyes up as she tried to look at him in the sun's glare,
taking her time before answering, weighing up several sassy replies
before opening her mouth to speak.

Jat bent his head taking her completely by surprise and covered her
mouth with his own. She tried to draw breath and failed. His lips began
to slowly move on hers and she felt an odd sensation like static
shifting on velvet that could have been centred at the back of her
knees or the base of her spine, but she was far to occupied to analyse
the source too closely. His hand came to rest on the small of her back.
The touch of skin to skin warmth against the naked part of her torso
split the focus of her senses between the thrill of his mouth on hers
and the sensation of heat from his hot, dry palm. The pressure of his
hand drew her closer towards him until his legs sandwiched one of hers
and the line of her body rested against his. She felt a moment of
embarrassment to be kissing so openly, and by the whistles and jeers of
his friends who were still in view, but the moment was fleeting and she
surrendered her morals to a bargain with pleasure. Her arms rose
involuntarily and snaked round his neck, a waft of her Jasmine scented
spray breezed between them. He shivered slightly as her fingers
caressed the cleft at the base of his hairline and she felt the
mottling of goosepimples as they rose along his shoulders.

She had been kissed plenty of times before, but never had a mere kiss
had the power to electrify from her lips through every nerve and fibre
of her body to her feet before firmly earthing her boots to the ground.
She was smitten.

A large, red-faced man huffed his way towards them. Neither one noticed
as they both had their eyes closed and were far too wrapped in each
other and the moment to be aware of anything happening outside the
energies of their two bodies. It had taken the man nearly two minutes
to approach them and in that time neither had come up for air. When he
was within talking distance he yelled. The voice was enough to shake
the hills and rock the valleys.

"Get your hands off her you filthy Bastard"
He continued moving rapidly towards them shaking his fists and getting
redder and more out of breath by the second.
"I said get away from her."
On the first earth tremor the girl jumped away from her admirer badly
startled and stricken with terror.
"Go. Go on, just go" She pushed Jat away. The mood of just magic
seconds before was well and truly broken. She cast one sad,
embarrassed, frightened look at the lad before turning towards the old
man. Jat wasn't bothered by some crazy old fart like that and moved to
follow the girl. He opened his mouth to tell the old git exactly what
he thought of him when something in the girl's expression stopped him.
Behind the fear her eyes were pleading with him not to make
trouble.
He raised his hand to her retreating back.
"Hey! `Coro disco. Tonight. Eight o clock" he yelled after her, but she
didn't even turn round.

Jat was upset. He'd had his share of girlfriends before, though nowhere
near as many as he bragged to the lads. Some only lasted the one night,
one as long as three months, but this girl was different. The kiss and
her former attitude had stirred feelings in him that he'd never felt
before. What really confused him though were his feelings when the old
man had taken her away. Jat had felt a real feeling of loss. Christ
he'd never really 'cared' about a bird before. He was never really
bothered whether they were there or not, the lads were all that
mattered. But the way the bloke had grabbed her forearm and dragged her
off yelling at her all the way up the tow path had awakened feelings of
protectiveness in him. The fear in her eyes made him want to look after
her and make her eyes smile again. But what hurt Jat the most were the
words that hurtled back towards him from the angry man.

"&;#8230;. And what's more, throwing yourself at a piece of shit
like him. I know his type, he's worthless, a total waste of space. And
I'm telling you now my girl, he'll amount to nothing. Nothing I tell
you&;#8230;."
Jat never saw the girl again.