Sketchbook

Izzy's voice was a raw hiss. "I'd report you to the school, but since you won't be polluting our lovely town after next week, I won't bother. Now, brave little boy - go and join your even braver little friends over there and fuck right off. We've got pictures of you and your seedy little dealer, so if you so much as cast a shadow again in this beautiful little Square before you go running back to mummy and daddy, we'll have your pathetic little guts for garters."

As she finished, they redoubled their assault on his ears. Each word was emphasised by a brutal tug as they both finished by yelling into each ear in unison. "Fucking... got... that?"

Pygge's face was a mask of pain and hatred as they both pushed him hard in the direction of his friends. He staggered a few steps and stood defiantly. "Fucking dykes..." His voice was unsteady and wavering.

Izzy grinned and put her arm around Josie, giving her a huge smack on the lips. She turned to Pygge. "Sure are, little boy - and fucking proud of it!"

I was vaguely aware of a round of applause from the small crowd that had gathered to witness this strange little tableau. Pygge and his pals were now arguing, presumably over their lack of support for their leader and as a few pathetic slaps were thrown at each other a derisive howl went up from the small audience as they dispersed, their afternoon fun now over.

Izzy smiled down at me. "Friends of yours?"

I shook my head. "No, just bad imitations of Draco Malfoy and his pals."

They both laughed and my heart lurched. I had worshipped Izzy from afar for so long and now she and her glorious redheaded wife were laughing at something I had said. The order on my celebrity list had suddenly changed.

She put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I could see the ends of her full-arm tattoos beneath her long-sleeved t-shirt. It was black, with the company logo picked out in pink on the breast and left upper arm. Her ears were a mass of rings and studs, her nose and lip pierced. Her smile radiant, I almost died and went to heaven as my beloved Angela Montenegro spoke to me, but in a beautiful English accent. "Thank you for your support. It means a lot. Things are getting better, but there are still..." She wrinkled her nose and waved a dismissive hand across the Square as if it were beneath her to name them. "They could have hurt you - that took guts. You were very eloquent..." She paused. "May I ask why?"

I realised I was shaking like a leaf and it sounded in my voice. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek as my voice cracked. "My sister came out... just so proud of her."

Josie now looked at me. I had over twenty softcore pictures of her younger self on my laptop and it was almost impossible for me to process the fact she was speaking to me. "Good lad." She leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "What's the name, brave boy?"

In a complete daze, I stammered back. "Josh... Josh Adams." Aware I must be the colour of a beetroot and now feeling very uncomfortable for various reasons, I tried to get up from the bench when I heard another low, sultry voice behind me. "Everything alright ladies?" I had never heard her speak but I knew instantly I was hearing the voice of Anastacia Keltner for the first time. Three of my fantasy women were surrounding me and one had just kissed me. I fought down a rising sense of panic as I turned to see her standing in front of me.

Izzy spoke. "Young Josh here has been quite the hero. Standing up for us in the face of Neanderthal man."

The next few minutes were a complete blur as they fussed over me and thanked me. I barely took in a word as I received hugs and air kisses from all three women before they retreated to the White Lion for their evening bottle of wine.

As I got unsteadily onto my bike to ride home, I heard a nasal, upper class voice carrying across the Square. The three of them were still there at a discreet distance. Pygge always had to have the last word. "Get yourself a real girlfriend, you fucking perv. Or do you prefer boys?"

I cycled home at what seemed like the speed of light, excused myself to revise for my penultimate exam and by the time I got to sleep, I had come in Anastacia's mouth as Izzy sucked her dry and Josie took her wife from behind with a strap-on. Then they really went to work on me and by the time I had finished with them, they were calling my name in ecstasy.

Yeah, Josh - in your fucking dreams as per usual.

Chapter 3: End of an Era

My last exam. Three hours of monotonous scribbling then freedom. Just a few weeks to wait before I joined the family firm and could try to forget about Newton's school. All I had to worry about was scoring runs at the weekends and on Wednesday evenings and who on my fantasy list would be joining me in my nightly ritual. At the moment I was finding it hard to get past Izzy, but usually Anastacia turned up to help finish things off.

I decided the only way to bow out was to literally run from the place. I had my running kit on under my uniform and as soon as the final bell sounded, I took to the toilets and stuffed my now ex-uniform unceremoniously into my rucksack. I had a feeling who would be waiting to say goodbye to me, so I put on my earphones and cranked up the volume. I had spent hours with my Dad in the car and company vans listening to his favourite old progressive and classic rock bands and Deep Purple seemed like the ideal exit music for me. I also had a little surprise up my sleeve just in case.

Sure enough, they were waiting outside, knuckles cracking, faces leering. Pygge mouthed something and Crabbe and Goyle moved towards me. I timed my kick to perfection and Goyle - or was it Crabbe? - fell to the ground holding his genitals. I could hear his whining over Jon Lord's thundering, gritty Hammond organ as I saw the other thug hesitate. I jammed stiffened fingers into his piggy eyes just hard enough to incapacitate rather than blind him.

I had taken self-defence classes a few years before when I was being bullied by other, now departed model citizens of the future and I was glad I still remembered what to do. However, those lessons had never included two cricket balls in a sock. Pygge's eyes went wide as he saw me swinging the sock like a slingshot, his friends out of action on the ground. I was aware of eyes on me - as we had done back in Town Square, we had attracted a small crowd. Pygge made a lunge for me and I swung the balls against the back of his hand. This time the yelp he gave cut across Richie Blackmore's Strat. I smashed my makeshift weapon down on the back of his neck as he bent double in pain. I was about to finish the job Izzy had started in the Square and rip his earring from the lobe when I was aware that everything had gone quiet and the small crowd were staring off over my shoulder.

I turned to see the school sports master, hands on hips glaring at us. Here, he was Sir or Mr. Redmond. At the cricket club he was simply 'Rick'. I took out my earphones as he spoke.

"Whatever this is, it ends now." He glared at my would-be assailants. "You three - just thank your lucky stars you're done here. I think I speak for most of the school when I say, 'good riddance'". A small cheer went up as he turned to me. He snatched the sock from my hand and I went white as he spoke. "Adams - we need to talk..."

He dragged me away from the scene and tapped the entry code to the gym and pulled me inside. He slammed the door shut and his face cracked into a big grin. "Just for effect! Way to go, Josh - just wish someone had taken those bastards down ages ago." He hefted my weapon. "School balls or Amberdown?"

I smiled shyly. "A couple of old net balls from Amberdown. Nice and hard. Don't worry, not school property."

Rick slapped me on the back. "Good work -- I hope you do as well on Saturday. Carsthorpe isn't it?"

I nodded. It was a big weekend coming up - the second team against Carsthorpe was always a big game and on Sunday the first team were playing in the quarter-final of the National Village Cup competition. Only two games from the hallowed turf of Lord's Cricket Ground in St. John's Wood, London. Tension had been building around the club for weeks at the biggest game in its history.

"Ok, go well and I hope we can count on your support on Sunday."

I smiled. "Definitely. And thanks Sir..." I nodded to the closed gym door and what had panned out a few minutes earlier.

Mr. Redmond swung my sock once more, an amused look on his face. "I need to confiscate this, you understand, Adams!"

I laughed. "Job done."

He held out his hand and I took it. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye from Mr. Redmond, eh, Adams?"

We shook hands. "I suppose it is. Thanks Sir."

He opened the door. "It's Rick from now on, Josh. See you Sunday - now go on, run Forrest, run!"

And did I run? As Highway Star blasted in my ears, I never looked back at the hallowed halls of Newton's school. I was in a euphoric daze. My exams were finished, I had seen off Pygge and his cronies in fine style and the summer was ahead of me.

I was barely aware I was back in Town Square. It was a completely subconscious thing and I was still in my little bubble as I found myself staring into the window of Angelfire gallery, my chest heaving from my exertions. I had never before had the courage to get so close and now here I was looking once more at that picture - those eyes burning out of the canvas and through the glass and tearing at my soul. I thought of the times I had finished myself staring at that image on my laptop. How I longed to feel those lips close on mine, or preferably somewhere more intimate. Suddenly my blood ran cold and I turned to see the subject and creator of the painting leaning on the door post of the shop, regarding me with an amused look on her face. She was speaking, but of course it went unheard as Fireball assaulted my senses.

I swallowed hard and removed my earphones. "Sorry - erm..." I tailed off, feeling myself reddening as ever.

Anastacia cocked her head letting her hair fall across her face. I melted as she brushed it aside with long fingers, beads and ribbons adorning her beautiful dark ringlets. She smiled gently. " That's ok, Josh. I was just inviting you in for a look around..."

She held the door open for me and I hesitated. I had been this close to her when it had all kicked off a few days earlier, but then I had barely been able to take anything in. Now in the mid-afternoon sun, I could see her freckles, those amazing pale blue eyes with just a hint of lines around them slightly betraying her age. If she was forty-two as the newspaper suggested, she really had barely aged since her portrait of herself at thirty.

Now she held a hand out to me and I felt myself shivering despite the heat. There was no way I could go inside with her in my sweaty, out-of-breath state. With my big rucksack, I'd probably break some lovely sculpture or knock a valuable painting off the wall. I shook my head reluctantly. "Thanks, but I'm not really..." I tailed off, indicating my appearance, wiping sweat from my brow with my wristband for good measure.

She laughed. "Fair point. But come and see us soon, Josh. Don't be a stranger, eh? And thanks again for the other day. It means a lot. Izzy said your sister... is that correct?"

I nodded. "She's so happy."

Anastacia moved towards her open front door. "Glad to hear it. She's a lucky lady and she has a lovely caring brother."

I ran the second leg of my homeward run even faster than the first. It was only halfway home that I realised Anastacia had called me by my name. Twice.

I was on cloud nine as I arrived home to find the wind taken out of my sails somewhat as I saw the 'For Sale' sign on the house next to ours on the Green had been changed to 'Sold'. It had been inevitable after Mr. Metcalfe died recently, soon after his wife had succumbed to a short-term illness. It had been mercifully quick for him as once she had gone, he had lost the will to go on. I thought of the hours I had put in helping him with his garden - what my Dad called 'serving my apprenticeship'. It was my first little design project aged fourteen and I loved every minute of it - the hard work followed by endless chats about cricket as Mrs. Metcalfe provided tea and lemonade. He had insisted on buying me a cricket bat for my sixteenth birthday and he had proudly kept the cutting from the Courier when I made my first century with it for the under-eighteens.

I had long since retired it, but when he passed away, I dug it out of my spare kit bag and hung it on my bedroom wall with the press cutting underneath. I went up to my room and took it down from the wall, shedding a small tear as I played a few shots with it, gazing into the garden next door. It was beginning to overgrow and wilt as the summer sun and lack of attention played havoc with it.

It had been a strange day. The end of an era. I felt a small sadness descend upon me as I thought back to my close encounter with Anastacia. Then I began to laugh, as with perfect timing, my Deep Purple compilation churned out another classic. It somehow seemed appropriate.

'I want you, I need you, I got to be near you

Ooh, I got a strange kind of woman.'

I flopped onto the bed and was soon gazing into those eyes once more, damning myself for not having the courage to have gone inside with her as I fantasised about her going down on me as her painting looked on.

Chapter 4: Bad Dreams

The weekend started well when I scored 40 in our win against Carsthorpe. On the Sunday, I wandered up to the ground to see how the first team were getting on in their cup match. They were chasing a total of 234 and going well -- the dream of a Lords' final was getting closer. Sam Atkins, the club captain was in the eighties and his batting partner was approaching fifty. The last time I had seen his batting partner we had been in the gym together discussing cricket balls in socks and he had been Mr. Redmond. Now he was Rick and a cheer went up as he reached his half century. I joined in the applause. He was a great guy and one of the few masters at Newton's I actually liked.

I made my way round the ground towards the pavilion as Sam launched into an attack on the opposition spinner. As I passed two women sitting in deckchairs apart from the others a big cheer went up as a huge six brought up his century. One of the women leapt to her feet punching the air and I felt the usual lurch in my stomach as yet another of my fantasy collection revealed herself to me. This was Bethany Hamilton, the drop-dead gorgeous fiancée of Sam -- her long hair waving in the breeze as she cheered her man on to his milestone. The look of sheer love on her beautiful face made me almost cry. I wondered if one day anyone would look at me that way. Like Izzy and Josie, there were rumours she had been something of a wild child until Sam had come along, and that had fuelled a few of my evening entertainments over the last year or so since she started coming to the club regularly. The woman next to her had also been on my list at one time and may be again in the future, but even pervy, desperate eighteen-year-olds have some standards and stunning as she may have been, I could not bring myself to lust over Sienna Redmond, Rick's wife, when she was six months pregnant.

Moving on, I said 'hi' to a few friends and went into the pavilion in search of cider. Unfortunately the club only did bottles, but it would do for now. I almost stopped in my tracks as I saw who was serving behind the bar. My fantasy women were ganging up on me. Tess Prior and her friend Leanne Ellis were pouring drinks and it was a toss-up as to which I liked the most. Both members of the women's first team, Tess was tall with a mass of red hair, almost classically beautiful. She was also a damned decent bat and had played the odd game for the under-eighteen boys' team when we were both in the age group, and held her own admirably. I had once asked her out so at least she had some right to be on my list, despite a polite refusal. Leanne was bubbly and goofy with a great sense of humour. We had snogged after a drunken youth disco a couple of years ago, but as usual with me, that was as far as it had gone.

We were still friends, so she was a rare visitor up the leader board, but I still remembered the feel her soft breasts against my chest and her big, goofy grin as we kissed the night away. She served me my cider with her usual enthusiasm and I walked out to watch the final knockings of the game as we approached victory.

Just when I thought I was done with my fantasy harem haunting me, it got worse as the current runaway leader hove into view with two empty wine glasses in her hands. She was rushing towards me, her long hair in ponytails, this time in a pink shirt with matching black logo - the inverse of the last time I had seen her in Town Square. Behind her I could see Josie beavering away on their cake stall -- the thought of a good crowd on a fine day too much to turn away business.

Izzy was almost level with me when she stopped dead in her tracks and did a double take. I thought it was almost inconceivable that this woman would recognise me even after Town Square, but I suppose that is a result of the esteem in which I held myself. Her face lit up as she saw me. "Hey, hi Josh! I thought there was something familiar about you when I saw you the other day! I'm just grabbing some well-earned drinks -- go and see Josie and claim a little reward for what you did. The double choc muffins are to die for!"

My euphoria at being recognised by Izzy was somewhat dampened by my welcome from Josie. She barely looked up at me. "Sorry, not much left -- been a busy afternoon. A pound each for the Minions or make me an offer for the muffins."

Now there was tagline for another fantasy - making Josie an offer for her muffins. I was about to say something when Izzy returned with two glasses of red wine. She handed one to her wife. "Not decided yet, Josh?"

Finally Josie looked up and paid me some attention. She stared for a moment then did a facepalm. "Oh dear, sorry darling. Memory like a sieve." She nodded at Izzy. "I only remember I'm married to her because of all the metal embedded in her!"

In the end I spent about ten minutes talking to them, telling them about my sister in a bit more detail. They were so lovely and by the end of our brief conversation, they knew I lived opposite them in the Village and that I was going into the family business. I felt much more confident in myself that I'd had a normal conversation with two women that I had fantasied about for ages doing unspeakable things to me. I felt a pang of guilt that I had wanked to pictures of Josie in her soft-core days and merged Izzy with a tv character.

As I walked home, I realised that they were just human beings like me. They drank red wine, they made cakes, they probably farted and like all women, once a month something nasty would happen for a few days. It was just they were so bloody gorgeous -- the two of them plus Bethany, Sienna, Tess and Leanne. And of course, Anastacia. All just flesh and blood and I put them all on a pedestal out of my reach. Pygge may have been a bastard, but he was right -- I needed a girlfriend. I also needed to disband my celebrity collection.

Izzy was also right -- the muffin was bloody fabulous.

That night, my pent-up lust was assuaged by a cum-shot compilation on the internet. None of my fantasy girls were involved.

At least not until I got to sleep.

In my dream, I was standing naked in the middle of a circle, with my erection in my hand. I was surrounded by women, taunting me to wank myself. Sienna stepped forward, her belly bulging. "Wank over a pregnant woman -- go on, I dare you, fucking loser."

She faded into the shadows and was replaced by Tess. She was naked apart from her cricket helmet and pads. "Come on Adams, fuck my mouth through the bars of my helmet. Stick my bat handle up my fucking arse..."