Future Queens of England (31 page)

Gareth beamed, “Tony, tonight is your lucky night.  When I was dancing I spotted a gaggle of girls.  So how about we go over there and bag us some fag hags?”

Chapter
Sixteen

The music was pounding and so was Tony's heart as he made his way across the room with the others towards a huddle of girls.  Tony could barely contain his excitement as he approached them.  He was used to contending against his mates to bag the fittest girl, but tonight there was a twist.  This time his competition were not there to bed the girls, but to potentially win themselves a fag hag.  So this had to be a win-win situation, he reasoned, since Tony didn't care which fag hag he got and his friends had no sexual interest in them, therefore there was no conflict of interest.  He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.  As they made their way across the room like a pack of wolves stalking their prey, Gareth stopped abruptly.  The others followed suit and waited behind him. 

Without moving his head he spoke to them.  “Just play it cool, okay?” Gareth said, “let me do the talking.” 

Since no one objected to this Gareth took the silence as a sign that they were in agreement with him.  He signalled for them to keep walking.  As they approached the curved booth where the girls were sitting, a slim, pretty, blonde haired girl at the table looked up and nudged her friend.  Her companion stopped chatting and looked up to see Gareth and company approaching them.

“Hi ladies,” Gareth said camping it up to make his intentions clear.  “Are you having fun?”  Before they had a chance to answer he added, “You don't mind if we join you, do you?”  He sat down forcing them to all shuffle round to make room for him.  “Come on girls, shift up.  Make some room for my friends.” 

Uwe silently squeezed himself onto the other side of the horseshoe shaped alcove and the girls duly packed themselves in tighter.  They found themselves fenced in by Gareth on their left and Uwe on their right.  Now that their targets were huddled together snugly the first stage of the plan was complete.  There wasn't any room for Tony, Hugh, Bruce and Keenan so they simply remained standing at the entrance of the booth.

“This is cosy isn't it,” Gareth said warmly, “all girls together.”  He patted his neighbour's arm good naturedly.  “There's only one thing missing though,” he said cheerily as he continued to control the conversation, “some drinky-winky-poo-poos.”  He chose his words carefully and specifically to be as camp and non-threatening as possible.

“I'll have a white wine, if you’re buying,” one of the girls said, taking the bait. 

Gareth allowed the smallest of smiles to flicker across his face, his plan was working.  The rest of the girls followed suit and gave their drink requests to Gareth.  He nodded at Keenan and slipped him some cash.

“I'll be back in a moment ladies,” Keenan sang addressing the females and males in the alcove before turning and mincing off towards the bar area in a deliberate but seemingly natural manner.

“So ladies, who's the best mover on the dance floor then?” Gareth said quizzing them.

“That'll be me,” a brunette said boldly from across the table.  “You reckon you've got some moves then do you?”

“Got some moves?” Gareth chuckled incredulously.  “She's asking me if I've got some moves?” he said to no one and everyone. 

“Sister, I not only invented the moves, I patented them as well.  From Stourbridge to Sydney there ain't no one who can hold a candle to my break-dancing.  From Lye to L.A. my krumping is da bomb and from Oldswinford to New Orleans my jerkin' is revered.”  He waggled his finger in the air and made an 'S' shape and he shook his head to add yet more emphasis.

The girls began to whoop and hoot, they nudged and poked at their friend.

“Go on Stace, take him on!” one of the girls cackled.

The brunette, Stacey grinned, “Let's have that drink to loosen up first and then I'll start busting some moves of my own.”

Just as Gareth had planned the girls relaxed and started talking like they'd known him for years. 

“Let the fag hag bagging commence,” Bruce whispered to Tony and with that he took his cue and started to engage excitedly with the girls. 

Hugh leant into Tony and muttered, “I'm not sure about this.  It doesn't seem right.”

Tony did a double take, “You what?  Sorry Hugh, but if I have to milk the miserly moo cow one more time then I'll...” he trailed off unable to think of a suitable way to end his sentence.  “Look, stop wasting valuable time, the sooner one of these birds empties my sack the better.”

Hugh put his head in his hands, “Jesus Tony!  I can't believe what comes out of your mouth sometimes.” 

“Well, what comes out of my mouth tonight will be carefully crafted to persuade one of these girls to let me cum in their mouth tonight,” Tony whispered lasciviously back at Hugh.

Hugh closed his eyes in disgust and shook his head is despair, “You really are one sick puppy Tony.  I guess decency and feminism passed you by.”

Tony laughed raucously, “So my re-education still has some way to go then.  I'll be sure to add those two items to the suggestion box when we return to school later.  Now, I am sorry to end our enlightened conversation but I am on a mission my friend and wild horses couldn't hold me back tonight.”  With that he crouched down so he was at eye level with everyone at the table and joined in the conversation. 

They spoke animatedly as the night progressed.  Each waiting for the current speaker to stop talking so that they could tell their funnier anecdote instead.  The wine flowed and the laughter grew louder as the group relaxed growing more comfortable with each other's company with every drink.

“So what's the worst place that you've been on holiday?” one of the girls asked Uwe.

Uwe thought about it for a moment.  “It had to be my trip to the Greek islands two years ago.  I had dreamed since being a teenager of travelling to Mount Olympus.  The idea of walking in the same places as the Greek gods was too much for me to resist.  So I bought myself a plane ticket and hotel using the internet and jetted my way to realising a dream.”  He looked wistfully into the middle distance momentarily before his face took on a more forlorn expression.

“Oh Uwe, you look so sad,” the girl sitting next to him said, “what happened there?  Did someone break your heart?”

Uwe shook his head.  “No, it was far worse.  I apparently trusted the information on wikipedia a little too readily and travelled to the wrong Mount Olympus.”  He cracked his knuckles together before continuing.  “I learned that the Mount Olympus that I wanted to visit was on the Greek mainland, but I stupidly booked a flight to Mantamados.”

“Mantamados?” the blonde exclaimed, “I've never heard of it.  Where is that?”

Uwe closed his eyes, it pained him to admit his stupid mistake, though through gritted teeth he found the strength to admit his error, “On the fucking Isle of Lesbos.”  The group howled with laughter.  Uwe prickled with mild irritation that they had laughed so heartily at his misfortune.

“Lesbos,” Tony howled slapping the table, “the bleeding Isle of Lesbos!”  He screamed with laughter and pushed Uwe's shoulder.  “How long were you there?” he wheezed.

“Two weeks,” Uwe grumbled, “two whole weeks trapped on the island that is the number one holiday destination for the world's lesbians.  Can you believe it?”

“Oh poor Uwe,” his female neighbour said squeezing his arm sympathetically.

“Six hundred kilometres away from the real Mount Olympus.  I believe I was the only person on the island with a penis!” he complained bitterly. 

The howls of laughter continued.

“There, there Uwe dear,” she said patting his arm, “it was an easy mistake to make.  Don't you listen to these hyenas.”  She drew herself closer to Uwe, “You tell Aunty
Yasmin
all about it.  What did you do then for the rest of your holiday?”

“I stayed in my room and read, I might as well have gone on to the library for a fortnight instead of going on holiday.  It would have been cheaper,” he complained.

“Well, let's try and see the silver lining in all this.  Do you enjoy reading?”

“Yes of course, reading is equivalent to thinking with someone else's head instead of with one's own,” Uwe proclaimed pompously.

“Ohhh, you're very profound Uwe.  Well, if you love reading then it wasn't a wasted trip was it?”
Yasmin
said reassuringly.

“No.  I suppose not,” Uwe acquiesced, his face brightening slightly.

Everyone stopped laughing except Tony, “Oh man, I would have paid money to see you stuck on that island with all those melon farmers.”

Uwe scowled at Tony.

“I hope that they weren't all like those carpet lickers that we played hockey against.  I bet there were actually some absolute corkers there, like the ones in those films I like.”

“You vulgar animal, I would have expected more from a homosexu...” an attractive, dark haired girl began but stopped mid-sentence as she thought about Tony's last comment.

Tony realised what he'd said, or more accurately what the alcohol had said.

She placed her drink on the table and pushed it away from her.  “Something doesn't seem quite right about you Tony,” she said as she eyed him suspiciously.

Tony placed his hand on his chest in mock protest, “I don't know what you mean?”  This wasn't going to plan, how could he get this back on track, he wondered. 

Gareth's smile wavered slightly as he realised that Tony was in trouble.

“How long have you known that you were gay Tony?” she pried. 

“Oh come on sweetie, leave it out?” Gareth interjected in an attempt to rescue Tony. 

“I'm not talking to you,” the girl said tersely.  “So stay out of this.  And my name is Belinda, not sweetie.  I am talking to our new friend Tony here.”  She stared at Tony, “Go on.  Answer the question.”

“About five years,” Tony replied flustered.

“And how many men have you slept with?” Belinda said as she continued to pry.

Tony took a moment and tried to think of a reasonable number in his head.  “A lady never kisses and tells,” he said trying to avoid the question and trying to sound as gay as possible at the same time.

She sat back and tapped her forefinger on her temple, “I'd hate to think that you were pretending to be something that you're not.” 

“I'm telling you the truth.  I've done more bumming tha
n
you've had hot dinners,” Tony blurted in panic. 

Uwe put his head in his hands, he knew the game was up for Tony and perhaps all of their chances to bag a fag hag had just gone out of the window.

“I don't believe you,” Belinda said, “I reckon you're making it up.”

Tony couldn't believe that he was arguing this, this would have been absolutely unthinkable to him just a few months back.  “No, honestly I am a right old bender.”  He argued rather unconvincingly.

“Really?” she said slowly before she sat back and took a drink from her glass.  She kept her eyes fixed on Tony at all times as she studied him carefully.  She parted her lips and spoke, “It's just that I've never heard a gay man refer to himself as a right old bender.  Bender is such an unflattering word, wouldn't you say?”

Tony shrugged, “Well, what have I got to do to make you believe me then?” he said and instantly regretted it.

She took another sip from her glass and smiled devilishly, “Kiss him,” she said pointing at Bruce.

Bruce grinned and quickly licked his lips, he then turned to face Tony and closed his eyes.

“What?” Tony squealed, “fuck off!”  He shook his arms and shoulders to rid himself of the thought.

“See!  I knew you weren't gay,” Belinda said laughing, satisfied that she'd blown Tony's cover.

Bruce, still in position, opened one eye and realised that he was surplus to requirements.  He sheepishly took a couple of steps back hoping that no one would comment.

Tony squinted, this wasn't going well, he had to think of something.  “Well I was gay until I met you, but you've cured me.”

Instantly Gareth, Uwe, Bruce and Keenan stared at Tony. 

“What the fuck did you just say, eh Tony?” Keenan growled.