Chapter 13

Alison trudged despondently homeward-bound up Tottenham Cunt Road. She was numb, bewildered, livid. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!” she screamed. There was no reaction from any passers-by, for whom the word, in Enlightened Europe of the twenty-first century, was mere background noise. “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, CLAIRE?” Alison shouted into the middle-distance. “WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO FUCKING...” – she quietened her voice now, so as not to cause public offense – “... ‘love’ me? What the fuck does that mean anyway? Claire, who says that ‘“love” is one huge pile of stinking horseshit’ – what the fuck are you playing at now? How do I deal with two people who fucking ‘love’ me – WHEN I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IT MEANS?” she screamed. “And, oh God, how can I ever tell Mommy and Daddy about this?!”

Indignant and traumatised, her presumptions shattered, her worldview in tatters, her best friendship apparently ruined, Alison marched across the park towards Fuckers’ Hall, kicking at flower beds and snarling at passers-by. It was late Sunday afternoon, and all the usual social and sexual activity, in which she normally delighted so, was taking place all around her. “Fucking cunts,” she cursed, glancing at a couple who were quietly ass-fucking on their picnic rug on the grass, “do they have to worry about ‘love’? No! They’re just fucking ass! And look –” she grumbled to herself, as she passed by a pretty young lady taking her girlfriend’s fist in her pussy, “do you think that bitch ‘loves’ her? No, she’s just fucking fisting her twat – ‘coz it’s fucking hot! So why’s everybody suddenly fucking ‘falling in love’? It’s one thing for that dickhead Rob to tell me he loves me ... but now even Claire – sexy, well brought-up Claire, mega-fuckslut Claire – is ‘in love’ – in love with me?! Jesus Christ, FUCKING SHIT-BRAIN!!!”

In the distance, a group of teenagers were playing a circle-fucking game on the grass, as they chanted noisily:

’Ickory, dickory, dock,
This bitch was sucking my cock.
The clock struck one,
So I fucked her cunn,
‘Ickory, dickory, dock.

Alison was in no mood to watch. She averted her head, and trudged on.

’Ickory, dickory, dock,
This bitch was sucking my cock.
The clock struck two,
So I dumped my goo,
‘Ickory, dickory, dock.

“Kids...” Alison thought to herself, “Naïve, foolish, inexperienced kids. They think fucking will make them happy – but they don’t know what the real world is like. Wait till they have to deal with ‘love’...”

’Ickory, dickory, dock,
This bitch was sucking my cock.
The clock struck three,
I needed a pee,
‘Ickory, dickory, dock.

“‘Ey!” Alison heard a voice calling from the direction of the circle game. She ignored it steadfastly: the last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone.

’Ickory, dickory, dock,
This bitch was sucking my cock.
The clock struck four,
So I fucked the whore,
‘Ickory, dickory, dock.

“Alison! Alison Bates! Lick m’ pussy!” She heard the footsteps of someone running after her.

“Oh shit,” Alison thought to herself, as she turned to see who was calling. It was the ass-fucking silver-blonde she had met before, her bottom half naked, a trickle of lube leaking down her thigh, wearing a silver bikini top.

“Alison, remember me?” said the girl, with an enthusiastic grin on her face. “I’m Riley – remember? I met you last week ‘ere in the park. I wanna be a fucker, like you. I love the stuff you do: you’re so fuckin’ amazin’!”

Alison groaned. “Oh fuck, girl, will you fucking leave me alone?! I’m not in the mood, okay?”

Riley looked disappointed, but did not give up. “But ... Can ya give me some advice? You’re at the RAF, aren’tcha? ‘Ow do I get in there? Can ya ‘elp me?”

Alison’s temper cracked. “Riley, let me tell you: being a fucker is shit! Everyone at the RAF is full of shit! Being a fucker makes people vindictive and dishonest! I was attacked by a fucker! My friend’s dad was killed by a fucker! Fuckers are manipulative, murderous liars! And all the gaping asshole in the world won’t protect you from all that shit! And, what’s more, since starting at the RAF, two people have declared ‘love’ to me! Do you know what that does to a girl? It fucks you up! It’s fucked me up! Now it’s fucking my friends up! You’re far safer, and you’ll be far happier, as a fucking shop assistant, or a fucking warehouse stacker, or sitting behind a fucking till in Titsco’s or Shitbury’s! Don’t make my mistake: it’s not fucking worth it! It’s ... IT’S FUCKING SHIT!!!” Alison could stand it no longer: she broke down in tears and ran, howling, away across the park towards Fuckers’ Hall, leaving Riley, half-naked and bewildered, standing alone, lube still tricking down her thigh.

It was some hours before Claire returned to Fuckers’ Hall. Alison was sitting at her desk, desperately trying to concentrate on Twentieth-Century “Porn”: A History, vol. I – but found her mind instead continuously wandering in rage and self-pity. “Fucking bitch,” she repeated to herself self-righteously. She heard Claire’s footsteps in the corridor, heard her turn her key in her lock, and enter her own room. A minute later, she heard her leave her room, walk slowly to Alison’s door, and knock. Claire did not wait to be invited in, but quietly entered, shutting the door gently behind her. She was completely naked, and wordlessly sat down on Alison’s bed, spreading her legs wide to display her pussy.

“Fuck me, baby, please,” Claire whined.

“How the fuck can you say that to me now?” Alison replied coldly, deliberately avoiding looking at Claire’s crotch, but fixing her eyes with a steely glare.

Claire spread her cunt-lips open with two fingers. “I’m sorry, baby, sweet cunt, I’m so sorry – I didn’t know what I was saying. I was just desperate and scared.”

“And jealous?” riposted Alison – who was keeping all her clothes, and her jacket, and her shoes, firmly on. Claire’s pink fuck-flesh glistened temptingly: Alison couldn’t help but look.

“Yeah, of course I was jealous. I was scared, baby, I was scared you were going to leave me to go off with Rob and the God-freaks. And yeah, I don’t want to lose you, cunt-pie. If that makes me jealous, then I guess I’m jealous. But doesn’t that mean ... I love you...?” Claire started to gently rub her cunt-lips, making them squish and squelch against her fingers.

Alison thought. “No,” she said firmly. ‘The true lover gives himself up for the one he loves.’ That’s what Father Ambrose said. If all you want is to hold onto me, because you can’t stand being without me – then that’s not real love. Maybe it calls itself ‘love’ – but that’s exactly the sort of ‘love’ the Enlightenment came to stamp out: love which is jealous, possessive, abusive, selfish.”

“Oh baby, really – am I being abusive and selfish?” scoffed Claire. “Just because I love it when you kiss me ... when you fuck me?” Claire spread her cunt-lips wider, so Alison could see more of her hot pink juicy folds – inviting, beckoning, seducing her in. “I know you like my cunt. Is my cunt ‘abusive’? Is my cunt ‘selfish’? And is it so bad if my cunt is ‘possessive’? I know you like the taste, the smell, the feel of all that warm wet fuck-juice on your tongue, on your lips, on your face. Here, have a good sniff,” Claire said, holding up two glistening fingers towards Alison’s face.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Alison exploded. “Can’t you fucking think about anything else for a change, you FUCKING CUNT-BRAIN?!”

“Oh, that’s the pot calling the kettle black!” Claire scoffed, removing her sticky fingers from Alison’s face. “Last time you called me ‘cunt-brain’ we were ogling two hot nurses’ pussies, and you were about to go off and get double-fucked in the ass! You’re no fucking nun, Miss Alison Assfuck Bates!”

“Okay – so neither of us is a fucking nun! But I don’t go around declaring ‘love’ to people when it’s nothing but a fake!”

“Yeah, but you do go around listening to bullshit stories about a fake ‘God’ who ‘loves’ you! Maybe my ‘love’ for you isn’t perfect and eternal like your God’s – but at least it actually fucking exists!”

Alison paused, aggrieved. Claire paused her diatribe too, shuffling forward to stroke Alison’s face and look into her eyes. More softly now, she said, “You make me happy, Al. You make me smile, you lift my spirits, you delight me. When I am with you, I feel like nothing can go wrong. And the thought of being without you scares me to death. If that’s not ‘love’, then fuck ‘love’! Goddammit, Al, I’m not an idealist like you. I don’t want to be the greatest fucker in the world – but nor am I interested in being a ’conqueror through him who loved us’, or a ’bride coming down from heaven’ or whatever the fuck that man was going on about. I just want to be happy, have fun, and fuck a few people along the way.” The aroma of pussy drifted up Alison’s nostrils from Claire’s glistening fingers, now stroking her hair.

“Hey, were you actually listening to the funeral service?” snorted Alison. “I thought you were in the bathroom jacking off!”

“I was!” Claire giggled. “But they had a PA system, with speakers in the fucking toilets! So I had to listen to all that shit whilst rubbing my cunt!”

Alison chuckled loudly, and looked again at her friend. Claire, she thought to herself, was still very beautiful, and very funny, and disarmingly honest – and so sexy. Alison took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right, babe. Of course, it’s fine just to want to have fun and fuck. You’re probably wiser than me: you’ll certainly be happier in the long run. I’m sorry – it’s just that the ‘L-word’ touches a few raw nerves for me.”

“That’s okay, pussy-pie. I’m sorry if I scared you: it was just the only thing I could think of to say at the time which might make you stop and think. I was just scared of losing you...” Claire paused. “Now, come on, let’s fuck – it’ll make us both feel better.”