Future Queens of England (26 page)

“Christ,” Tony wailed, “it’s almost impossible to run in these boots.”

Gareth also limped along in his winkle picker boots. “Ow, ow, ow,” he moaned as their pursuers gained on them.

“Quick, this way,” shouted Hugh.

They dodged in between the parked cars frantically looking for an escape route.

“I’ve had a lot of dreams about me and lesbians,” Tony panted, “but they were nothing like this.”

“Let me guess, Tony, in your dreams were they really attractive and incredibly keen to have sex with you?” Gareth shouted over to Tony as they ran.

“Yeah, that’s right.  Have you had similar dreams?” Tony shouted back before running across the road directly in front of an oncoming car.  The driver of the car slammed on his brakes and hooted his horn.

“Wake up, Tony!  These girls don’t want to fuck you, but they do want to fuck you up.  They mean business,” Gareth explained to Tony breathlessly.

“Will you two just shut up and run,” wailed Hugh from behind them, “they’re gaining on us.”

“But part of me wants them to catch us and rough us up a little,” Tony said as he ran past the last row of parked cars.

“Think of it this way, Tony,” Uwe said firmly, “it is a clear gain to sacrifice pleasure in order to avoid pain.  You may gain some weird pleasure from having them rough you up, but eventually it will end in pain for all of us.”

“Turn this way,” Hugh shouted as he ran around the back of the shopping centre into the staff car park.

Tony and the others followed him. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Those lezzers are so bloody ugly and manly anyway.”

“Ah shit,” Hugh screamed, “it’s a dead end!”

Regardless, they still ran towards the edge of the car park, where their escape was blocked by a wire fence.  The lesbians gained on them and before any of them had a chance to think of a plan B one of the girls grabbed Hugh and pinned him against the fence.  The fence rattled as his body was pushed against it.  Almost immediately the fence bounced again and again as Tony, Gareth and Uwe were pinned up against it by their attackers.

“Oi, watch the clothes!” Tony complained as they manhandled him.

“You cock-gobbling queers will never learn,” laughed Lex.  “If you wore comfortable shoes like us you would have gotten away, but now you’ll pay for your vanity.”

“So Lezzy Lex, we meet again,” Tony drawled.

“Ah, Tony the twat,” Lex growled, “I almost didn’t recognise you without your hot pants.”

“Pretty natty clobber eh?  I bet I could even turn you?”  Tony joked with bravado.

Lex just laughed. “Christ!  Not even if you were the last person on the planet.  Never will a sausage pass through either of my lips.”

“How boring though,” Tony scoffed, “don’t you get tired of just licking away?  Where’s the variety?”

“Well sometimes it’s white meat and if I fancy a change it is not far to go for brown meat.  Both sides are finger-licking good.”

“Oh carry on, tell me more.  Then what do you do?” Tony said staring intently into her eyes.  “I’m seriously getting aroused,” he said sarcastically.

“Then let me help you out,” Lex walked over to Tony and rubbed the bulge at the front of his jeans.  “Is this the spot?” she said.

“Oh yes, yes, yes!  Now we’re talking,” Tony looked over at Gareth, “See, they are like the lesbians in the films, just uglier.  But that doesn’t matter one bit to me.  This is the best day ever!”  He grinned ecstatically, so much so that his face began to ache. “Hey, would you two lesbos over there mind tonguing each other?  I’d kill to see that.”

“Oh you like this sort of thing, do you?” Lex said softly before her expression hardened. “Well, how do you like this?”  She gritted her teeth and squeezed Tony’s balls hard.

Tony squealed like a pig, “Arrghh you bitch.”

Lex let go and took a few steps back. “You thought that you were pretty hot stuff on the hockey pitch didn’t you?  Well that’s the last time you’ll make a fool out of us,” and with that she spat in his face.

Tony scowled and wretched, his body tightened but two of the girls held him in place by his shoulders.  “What do I do?” Tony said as he struggled against them trying to ignore the pain in his testicles.

A third girl stepped forward and grabbed his throat. “Shut it,” she ordered.

“What do you mean, Tony?” Gareth asked, struggling to speak with his captor’s hand also clenched on his throat.

“I mean, should I hit them?” Tony said gasping for air.

“Why are you asking me?” Gareth said.

“Well, I was brought up never to hit a woman, but these girls really look like men.  I’m just so confused!” Tony said with anguish.

“Sorry Tony, but weren’t you going to prison for aggravated assault?” Gareth asked incredulously, “and suddenly you’ve developed a conscience?”

“Enough!  Shut it you slags,” Lex said, and she strode up to Tony and punched him full in the face.

“You hit like a girl,” Tony said defiantly.

“I am a girl you silly twat,” Lex growled at Tony.

“Barely,” he grinned.

Lex clenched her fist, “Hit like a girl do I?” she said.  Her knuckles cracked as she prepared herself.  “Let him go,” she ordered.

Tony’s captor released him and stepped back.  Tony smugly smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt to buy himself some time while thinking up his next witty retort.  But before Tony had a chance to speak Lex’s fist flew suddenly and struck him in the centre of his throat.  Tony felt his Adam’s apple bounce off of his oesophagus.  He fought for breath as he fell to his knees and writhed on the floor.

“Do the same to them,” Lex ordered.

Gareth, Uwe and Hugh each braced themselves for the pain as the succession of blows came to them.  One by one they each fell to the ground clutching at their throats, fighting for air.

“Let that be a lesson to you faggots,” Lex said before kicking Tony hard in the stomach and spitting on him for a second time.  She crouched down and peered into his contorted face, “No one makes a fool of us on the hockey pitch and we never, ever lose, especially not to your lot.”  The girls turned and walked casually back to their van laughing and congratulating each other.

Lex turned and shouted back at them.  “You’re nothing but a bunch of useless faggots and fairies!”

Tony, Uwe, Gareth and Hugh lay on the cold, hard tarmac taking brief snatches of air as they fought to breath.

Tony sucked in some air as he searched for the resolve to speak.  “We …” he said before sucking in another breath of air, “… never ... tell ...” pausing for a moment as he strained to breathe “… anyone … about … this ... ever!”

Chapter
Fourteen

“Hey Keenan, are you coming or not?” Hugh shouted from the doorway. He propped the door open with his foot and tutted impatiently. He glared repeatedly at his watch to emphasise his point.

“What's the rush? Ben's never on time,” he shouted back at Hugh.

Hugh frowned. “I know, but he does that on purpose. You know how he likes to make a big entrance.  If we get there late we'll encroach on his performance.”

“Okay, okay,” Keenan conceded as he threw his stationery and books into his bag and made his way over to Hugh. “Where are the others? Have they left already?”

“Marc didn't come back last night so I don't know what happened to him. But Tony and Uwe have been up for hours training for the next match,” Hugh explained. “They go for a run, then onto the gym and then they do some hockey practise. I should really go with them too, but I don't sleep well, as you know, so I can't get up at the same time as them.”

“Aye, and there I was thinking it was because you're a lazy bastard, Hugh,” Keenan said sardonically.

             
Hugh blushed, but thought better of rising to this.

The two of them wandered down the corridor towards the grand staircase. As they approached the top of the stairs they saw a pair
of
legs sticking out from behind the curtains.

“It looks like we've found Marc,” Keenan groaned, rolling his eyes.

             
They walked over to the curtains and pulled them back, Marc lay slumped against the wall virtually comatose and stinking of the night before. Keenan kicked the soles of Marc's shoes, but he didn’t stir. He tried again, but still Marc showed no sign of waking.

Keenan sighed. “I'm tired of this shit, you know.” He walked over to one of the trestle tables that lined the corridors and picked up the floral display. Keenan discarded the flowers and walked back towards Hugh and Marc with the vase in his hand. “This'll wake the drunken bastard up,” he said, with more than a hint of menace, and promptly poured the contents of the vase over Marc's head.

Marc gasped for air as he was awoken from his slumber. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He squinted up through bleary eyes at Hugh and Keenan. “Why did you do that, you pair of twats? Couldn't you have woken me like a normal human being?”

Keenan shook his head and raised the side of his mouth. “You're late for class you ungrateful gobshite.”

Hugh crouched down to Marc's eye level. “If you don't get your act together they'll kick you out,” he said solemnly.

“Ah, who gives a shit?” Marc muttered angrily.

Hugh studied Marc for a moment. “What’s that on your forehead?”

“What are you talking about?”

Keenan laughed. “Ha!  Someone’s drawn the phantom on your bleeding forehead.  That’ll teach you.”

Marc rubbed his forehead furiously.  “Has it gone?”

“Nope.  Try and wet it.”

Marc ran his fingers through his wet hair, and then rubbed his forehead again. “What about now?”

Hugh shook his head. “Sorry, Marc, it’s not coming off.  I reckon it’s been drawn on with an indelible marker pen.”

“It suits you, though,” Keenan said.  “It makes you look like a super hero.”

“Fuck off, Keenan!”

“Here, let me try.”  Hugh removed a tissue from his pocket and wet it with his tongue.  He extended his hand to
Marc
’s forehead, but
Marc
knocked his hand away.

             
“Don’t you dare!”

             
“What?  It’s only a cat-lick,” Hugh said.

             
“It’s your spit.  Why is it okay if you lick a tissue?  Why not just gob directly on my face and then wipe it with the tissue?”  He shook his head at Hugh.  “I'm going back to bed to sleep this off,” he said, and with that he walked unsteadily back towards the Larry Grayson boudoir licking his hand and rubbing at his forehead.

“Come on, Keenan, we'd better get a move on. He's made us late now,” Hugh said, before making his way quickly down the stairs.

When they arrived at the class they could hear muffled voices. Hugh listened at the door and heard Ben awarding the grades from the style assignment.

“Oh shit, they've already started. You go first,” Hugh said to Keenan, urging him on.

“Jesus, what are you like?” Keenan replied. He reached down and turned the handle of the large mahogany door. It creaked as he pushed it open, Hugh winced at the noise and the attention of the class turned away from Ben and onto Hugh and Keenan.

“Oh, so nice of you to join us,” Ben said without his normal pleasantness.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hugh said as he and Keenan made their way over to their cushions.

Ben put his hands on his hips. “I accept your apology, but shouldn't you apologise to the new boy?”

All of the students looked around trying to see who Ben meant.

“Why don't you stand up and introduce yourself?” Ben said warmly.

“Who exactly are you talking about?” Uwe said with vitriol.

“Why, this dapper young fellow here,” Ben said, pointing at Tony. He smiled to himself and began to ham his performance up.  “He looks vaguely like everybody's favourite hooligan and homophobe, but this could never be. This must just be an unfortunate coincidence for this fellow.  Stand up young man and introduce yourself.” He gestured for Tony to stand up to cheers from the rest of the class.