Tainted

"Might as well. Cheers." Amy drained the glass and held it towards the man. "So," she said, deliberately brightening when Billy settled back onto his seat. "What about you? No wife you said, but what about a lady friend? Is there no woman that you fancy?"

With secrets of his own, it was Billy's turn to bluster. "I ..." he began. "That's a little personal," he lamely responded, hiding his discomfit behind the pint glass.

"Aw, c'mon," Amy teased, distracted from her troubles by her innate curiosity. "You musta had a girl at some point. Ye cannae be a virgin. Not after being in the navy an' on the rigs an' all." A sudden prospect made her blink. "You're no gay, are you?"

"No, no." Billy denied, shaking his head for emphasis. "It isn't that. The navy ... being away all that time; I never found the right woman. Then there was the rigs and then my mother ..."

Amy saw Billy's eyes glaze into a stare of introspection; she placed a hand on Billy's thigh and squeezed. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to bring up memories of your mam."

Billy looked down to where the girl's fingers rested on his leg. He lifted his eyes to her face. "That's alright," he replied, his voice gruff with sudden desire. Three days and nights of thinking about her, the torment in his bed, lonely and unfulfilled even as his semen spurted from his cock. He could feel the heat from Amy's body as they sat side by side on the bench seat. Her hair shone gold under the lamp-light in the pub while dusk fell in a sudden and heavy curtain outside. The top two buttons were undone on the borrowed shirt the girl wore, Billy imagined her breasts, large and round on her slim frame beneath the cotton.

Sensing the sudden shift in mood, and rather than pull away, Amy slid closer. Billy reminded her of Patrick; him, older, a friend of her da's, her lover until her father found out. Amy missed him too, she missed the games he played and the way her guts twisted with desire. She missed the intimacy. Patrick might be a womanising bastard, but the things he did to her ... A paradoxical clump of melancholy at being forced to run away from home, and the residual feelings of lust and wanting for Patrick curled inside the girl. Then she remembered the storm of shouted accusations and threats from her dad when he discovered the affair. She recalled the fight that erupted suddenly, her mother's pleas and da's rage, raised fists and voices, and an angry, sneering mouth twisted with hate and humiliation. Pa turning on her mum; Amy reaching for the skillet ...

In the pub, on the bench seat opposite the painted lines that marked the flood levels of the Ouse, with thirty-six years between them melting in the crackling, jumping heat of the log fire, their heads moved closer together. Amy sensed the coming kiss and her sex clenched with anticipation at what might follow ...

"These glasses dead?" a voice interrupted. The bored, dispassionate barmaid, whose thoughts lay only with the party she was invited to later that day, pointed down at the table.

Billy blinked at the sudden intrusion, nodding his head and waving the glasses away while immediately sliding along the seat, breaking the contact between their thighs.

Suddenly embarrassed, a gruff-voiced Billy said, "We'd better go." He stood and reached for his coat. Shrugging on her parka, Amy hurried after Billy as he abruptly left the pub.

In Acomb the taxi pulled up outside the gates. Amy waited at the front door while Billy paid. Neither said a word as the sound of the car's engine faded away towards the city. The cat appeared purring and fussing and meowing when the key snicked into the lock.

"Do you want a drink?" Billy asked.

Amy nodded, subdued as she recognised the man's truculence. Moving from the kitchen to the living room, wine glass in hand, Amy, still in her parka against the perpetual cold, settled into a worn and tattered arm chair. Forlorn home-sickness settled hollowly in the pit of her stomach and tears pricked while she sat marooned on her island of despondency, surrounded by the faded, peeling wallpaper and sedimentary layers of dust. The house continued its long, slow, inexorable slide into Miss Havisham decline. A monochrome snapshot of Billy aging slowly spiked in the girl's heart and she felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of compassion for the man. He'd been so kind to her; opened his home, albeit ramshackle and in need of a good spruce; shown her nothing but kindness; hadn't pried, hadn't tried anything ...

She decided Billy deserved to know the truth.

"Light the fire, Billy," Amy said, "there's some things I have to tell you ..."

*

THE ROOM WARMED SLOWLY. Billy slid the mesh screen of the fire guard over the flagstone hearth and with an air of expectation and some trepidation sat in a chair opposite a nervous, fidgeting Amy.

"I haven't been totally honest," she began.

"I did think that anyway—"

"—please," Amy interjected with an upraised palm and pained expression. "Just let me get it all out before I lose muh bottle. OK?"

Billy nodded and sipped whisky.

"I haven't been totally honest. I've done something bad ... really, really bad. Something I could go tae prison for. Before I tell you, I want you to know that I'm telling you because I like you, Billy, and I don't want to lie to you. You're a kind man who took me in when I had nothing in front of me but trouble; and I'm ever so grateful for that. Don't forget that. Don't forget that I like you, I wish I could pay you back in some way, but I'm afraid that after I tell you ... Well, you might not want me here anymore."

A long silence followed, the only sound was the crackle and spit from the fireplace. The couple stared at each other across the room. Amy swigged the wine and held the glass to Billy in mute request.

He poured and the girl carried on.

"I've killed me da," she revealed abruptly. Billy's eyes widened and he leaned forward in his seat. On the verge of speaking his mouth gaped before clamping shut. He gestured with a hand for the girl to continue. "I did it 'cos I thought he was gonna hurt me mam. I didn't mean to do it; it was just in the middle of a blazing row. He was shoutin' an' carryin' on and threatenin' all-sorts ... Mam was in the middle of it an' she was shoutin' and cryin' ... He turned to her and I really think he woulda hurt her. So I brained him with a skillet ...

"... I did it 'cos I thought he was gonna hurt mam," Amy repeated. She looked at a silent Billy, her eyes wide. Anxiety curled in her guts, a sinuous coil of apprehension. "What are you gonna do, Billy? Will you fetch the polis? Do you want me to go ... Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Thinking about his own past: "I understand," Billy said softly.

Three

SURPRISED AT THE MILD REACTION, she'd expected differently, Amy heaved a sigh of relief. Tension poured out in that great exhalation and the girl suddenly felt effects of the wine.

With homesickness and guilt temporarily set aside with a buzz of alcohol, Amy experienced a sudden lewd desire. "Shall I tell you the whole story?" she asked. An insidious tickle of lascivious wickedness itched between her legs; her libido woke and purred. Amy felt a quick reckless desire.

Still surprised by Amy's revelation, Billy gave an ambivalent shrug before eventually nodding.

"Patrick was my dad's pal. They'd been friends for ages. He's one of those who sees a joke in everything, never takes it too serious. He's a cheeky chappie with an eye for the ladies. I knew he was trouble. I knew he was dangerous -- good-looking and dangerous, and I fancied him cossa it.

"I'd never have done anything about it; woulda just fancied in him in mah own wee way, but I was out one night with muh pal, Jenny. It was all her fault. If she hadn't thrown hersel' at him ...

"We met Patrick in a pub and Jenny, a bit o' drink in her, was all brave an' mouthy. Said she'd fancied Patrick for ages an' was bangin' on about how she was gunna fuck 'im ..."

Amy paused momentarily. "... Do you mind if ah use swear words? Will you be offended?" she asked.

Tingling with booze Billy wondered where this tale was going. He felt a distant stirring of lust, a heat deep in his guts, a thrill of anticipation he'd not felt since ...

Sylvia, he thought. A stab of guilt pricked his heart. He should tell Amy about Sylvia.

He pushed the dark memory into the stygian murk from whence it had slithered. It was done; there was nothing Billy could do to bring her back. Sylvia was gone, a calcified collection of eternal remorse.

The room felt suddenly warm. Billy; he shook his head. "No," he croaked, head woolly with spirits and confused by memories. He sipped again. "I won't be offended," he finished.

"So Patrick bought Jenny and me drinks," Amy continued, oblivious to the inner turmoil twisting through Billy. "And Jenny set out to get him. I was a bit pissed off with it, after all I fancied him too, and though I may have had a man or two, I'm not as big a slag as Jenny.

"The boys have always liked me. They tell me I'm pretty and sexy an' that. An' even years ago they'd always give me sweets and squabble to be my favourite. All innocent it was back then, but it changed when I got older. I'm not being vain or anything, just saying it as I see it. My boobs got bigger, I got some shape to me and suddenly the men were after me. I had a boyfriend or two, like I said, but nobody prepared me for Patrick.

"Anyway, Jenny made her play for Pat, being dead obvious and common, but Patrick seemed to like it. He was laughin' an' jokin' an' bein' suggestive; and in the end we wiz all stoshus and ended up at his place.

"An' soon it all got pretty bad."

Amy squinted at Billy. "Are you sure you dinae mind me tellin' you this? I mean ... what happened next ... It's pretty rude." The girl shrugged and drained the glass. "If you want me to stop ..." She stared blearily.

"Don't stop," Billy replied hoarsely. "Another drink?" he suggested.

He fed a log to the fire and then handed yet another glass of wine to Amy. The girl continued.

"At first it was just a bit of a laugh," she began. "Patrick was messin', being stupid and jokin' as usual. I could tell Jenny was miffed, y'know, two's company an' all that ... I knew she wanted me to go, but I didn't leave, I wouldn't leave. Badness made me stay. We just sat there in the living room of his flat. It was pretty minging right enough, but I'd had too many lagers to care about how dirty the place was, so ...

"Anyway, like I says, we just sat there drinkin' and grinnin' at each other. Then Jenny gets up and goes to him an' sits hersel' in his lap. Next I know is they're snoggin'. Tongues ... his hand up her skirt ... her startin' te moan. An' they just get hotter. I'm sat there and I sees Jenny hoikin' hersel' up off his lap so's Patrick can get his fingers into her knickers. Then he lifts her top up so's her bra's on display. An' before I know what's happenin', Jenny's half nekkid, her fluff plain to see from where I'm sat, while Patrick's tellin' her what he's gonna do to her.

"By now it's too late fer me to leave, or so I think, so I just sits there, drinkin' me can an' watchin'. I look at Patrick and he's kinda ... leering at me with this stupid smirk over his grid. He goes on starin' ... and then, calm as you like, kinda shrugs Jenny to one side -- and the daft bitch is still moaning on, her eyes closed, about how good it felt to have him suckin' her tits an' how she wants him to keep doin' it -- and he unzips his jeans ...

"And this thing flops out."

Amy laughed then, a half-hiccup of embarrassment and mirth. She looked across at Billy and guffawed. "His cock ..." she spluttered. It's enormous. Thick and veiny ... It's like an alien ... And he's waving it at me an' grinnin'.

"Then Jenny cottons on that he's got his todger out. She slides off his lap, looks at me an' says, 'Watch me suck this' ...

"An' she does it. Bold as ye like. Isn't bothered a jot that I'm watchin'. She kneels on the carpet and opens her mouth to take this ... thing ... an' she sucks it. Her tits are hanging outta her bra; her skirt is up round her waist; she's got this massive cock in her mouth ..."

Amy paused, staring at Billy with heavy-lidded eyes. "This is making me sexy, Billy," she murmured. "You shoulda seen it. It was so filthy. I've never seen anything like it. My friend on her knees, half-naked, with that big cock in her mouth ... I wanted it to be me. I wanted it to be me doing that to him. I wondered what it tasted like; I wondered how it would feel to have that thing between my lips." The girl shifted in the chair. "It's making me sexy, Billy," she repeated. "I ... I want to ... touch myself." She squirmed again. "I touched myself while I watched them, Billy."

Billy gazed at the girl. The angelic face juxtaposed against the bow-shaped lips that formed those sewer images in his head ... He could see, could imagine the scene. His cock thickened, a reaction that surprised him, and he only just resisted the urge to expose himself to the glazed-eyed girl.

A swirl of fragrant log smoke puffed down from the chimney. Billy sniffed at the high, pungent scent, a reminder of the last time he'd felt the carnal surge this strong.

Sylvia ...

The trace of spicy smoke brought back the persistent memory of that night.

Was it really three Christmases ago now?

He'd wanted her that night, at first, but her anger at his failure ... She'd blamed him, as though it was a rejection. She'd taken it personally.

A cry burst out from Amy, jolting Billy back to the present. "Oh, Billy!" she exclaimed, squirming against the worn fabric of the cushion. "I had to do it while I watched them. Patrick told Jenny to get onto it. He was right aggressive about it. Not in a way that meant he'd smack her if she didn't, just bossy. And Jenny ... Well, she just squealed like the daft bitch she is and scrambled on top of him. She knelt with her legs over his thighs, facing him so's her boobs were swinging in his face. She was pantin' and moanin' and babbling all kinds o' filthy words and then ... Oh fuck, Billy, you shoulda seen it. Patrick reached around Jenny's body and pulled her open ... I could see everything. Her ... her ... her cunt was gapin' wide for him., all hot and wet and pink ... I could see her arsehole too he was holding her arse cheeks so far apart. Then Patrick, as he reached around her, held his thing upright with his other hand and just ... eased it into her.

"And then they just did it. They fucked right in front of me an' I watched 'em do it. His cock just split her open and I just had to frig myself. I wanted to join in but daren't do that. So I watched my friend fuck Patrick's cock; I listened to her moaning and sighing and begging him to stick it in her ... And I rubbed myself, felt myself get hotter and sexier and I could feel myself getting set to come ...Then I saw Patrick kinda scrunched under Jenny an' looking at me from under her arm where she's holding onto the chair back. He stared at me and pulled Jenny's arse down so's she screamed louder as his cock went deeper. And then he mouthed somethin' to me. At first I couldn't make it out, but then I made sense of it. You, he was sayin', I want to do this to you too.

"And I knew that somehow he meant for us to be alone, without Jenny. There was a look on his face, something in his eyes that told me that Jenny was just a slag that he was fucking for the laugh, but that I was better than that and that he wanted me properly.

"Then I came. Patrick grunted and swore and held Jenny's body tight down with his arm round her waist. I knew he was comin' too, knew he was squirting spunk into my friend. The thought of him spunking inside me instead o' her, as crazy as that idea was, I don't want no wee-uns, no kids, not at my age, but the thought o' him coming inside me sent me over the edge. They lay there, Jenny sprawled atop of Patrick, pantin' and groanin' until she realised that Patrick coulda just got her pregnant and she screamed and jumped up quick. A big dollop of goo dripped outta her as she climbed off Patrick's lap. It was so dirty, but seeing his spunk dribbling out of Jenny like that ... Well, it made me sexier than ever. I could see how shiny and wet Pat's cock was and I wanted to feel that thing inside my body. I probably woulda just let him fuck me there and then, but Jenny was carryin' on about babies and johnnies and what a fuckin' pig he was to do it in her. It ended up with us getting dressed and me spending most of that night with Jenny at her house tryin' to calm her down.

"Two days later Patrick chapped at our door. He made some excuse about him and da goin' out sometime, but he passed me a note when I told him da wasn't home -- which he'd known anyway, the bastard.

I went to his flat that night.

*

THE CAT REGARDED BILLY with eyes that had studied the carnal acts of pharaohs; the peccadillos of twentieth century man were no surprise. Seeing Billy awake the cat yawned, showing sharp, precise razors in its pink mouth before stretching luxuriously and rippling like a waterfall from the chest of drawers upon which it had been perched. Billy turned in his bed as the animal slinked through the narrow gap between the door and the jamb. The girl's eyes were already open.

She blinked and smiled. "You should get a Christmas tree," Amy said.

Billy blinked at the odd statement; it wasn't what he'd expected from her. He studied his hangover. How much whisky had he put away?

"And some decorations," Amy added.

"I'm sorry," Billy began. "About last night ... You must be ... I'm embarrassed ... You ... You're so beautiful ... And I can't ..."

Blonde hair fanned across the pillow while Amy looked at him tenderly. She smiled and soothed Billy's anxiety with the tilted corners of her mouth. "Och, I'm embarrassed too. Not because of ..." Amy paused. "Not because of that," she added hurriedly. "I'm no bothered about you not ..." Amy squirmed her naked body closer to Billy beneath the covers. "I'm embarrassed about the way I carried on. Telling you all that stuff about Jenny and Patrick; the language I used ..."

"I enjoyed it. Hearing you talk like that ... It was very sexy. And I did feel it; I did find it arousing. I just can't ..."

"It's OK. Dinae worry about it."

"There was a woman," Billy explained. "A couple of years ago ... one Christmas not long after mum died. It ... it ended badly. Mum's death seems to have been the cause of my ... problem. But for whatever reason I couldn't manage the sex with Sylvia and she took it personally, thought it was a rejection. It isn't that the mechanics aren't there, I can get hard, I can even ... you know ... ejaculate. I just couldn't manage it with her ... or anyone," he qualified quickly, "but it was a big deal with Sylvia ... It led to tension and we fought ..."

"Really, it's alright," Amy murmured. "You don't have to tell me anything. I'm relieved you took the news so well, about my da. I didn't mean to kill him ..." Amy's face crumpled. "Oh, Billy," she sniffed. "I feel so bad about it all. My poor father, he wasn't a bad man, he was just ragin' about Patrick and me. But I thought, 'cos he was so mad, that he'd hurt mum. I don't know what to do ..." The girl sobbed and her body heaved as she nestled close against Billy. He put his arms around her.

Stroking Amy's hair, he said, "Stay here as long as you need to." He let the girl cry. "Best to get it all out.

Amy's dreadful, wracking sobs subsided to a series of sniffles. "Could I phone my mother?" she asked quietly.

Billy kissed the top of Amy's head. "Of course," he replied softly. "She must be worried about you." He watched as the girl left the bed. Residual desire from the previous night rippled through him when Amy, nude and lithe, bent to gather her clothes from the bedroom floor. She dressed quickly against the morning cold.