A night to remember.

‘Hmm, which tee to wear?’ you think to yourself as you tug your jeans down so they sit more comfortably on your hips, ‘wearing merch to a gig is getting old,’ you gently run your index finger of your right hand along the tee’s that are hung up in your wardrobe. You stop when you get to your tee, before shaking your head, and pulling out a plain black low cut tee with it’s shoulders cut off. Allowing it to slide down your arms, you lean back into your wardrobe, pulling out your black, tatty converse, and your jewellery box. You put your jewellery box onto your bed, and open it, changing your naval bar from a pink one, to a plain one, with a silver jewel, looking over your shoulder, you reach for the moisturising cream, rubbing some into your tattoo which you’ve recently had done. ‘Right, I’m ready!’ you grab your plain black hoody, and pull it over your shoulders, pushing your train pass into your jeans pocket along with some eye liner and money. You walk out of your house, and to the train station
“Can I have a young personals rail card return to London please”
“That’ll be �25.50 please, coming back tonight?” you nod, and wonder how the hell that is going to happen, before handing over �30 and taking the change “platform one”
“Thanks” you smile, and wander off to the platform.

Two and a half hours later, you arrive in London, a craving for a Millie’s cookie grabs you as you walk off the train, you shake your head, and head towards the underground; pushing �2.20 into the machine, you head off to Chalk Farm, sitting with your knees into your chest on the cold tube. You stop at the shop outside the tube station, buying a lighter and a packet of cigarettes, then you find the cash machine, and withdraw a further �20. You dial your mum’s mobile number, and tell her you’re safely in London, before lighting your cigarette, and walking down Chalk Farm Road towards the Barfly. You look at the screen of your mobile, and see that it’s flashing ’19.30’ you go and queue at the venue, handing over your ticket, and having your hand stamped
“You eighteen love?” the man with wristbands asked
“Nineteen”
“ID please” he said with a definite cockney accent, you pulled your train pass out of your pocket, and showed him it “have one of these then love” he said and handed over a red wrist band with ‘ 18+’ written over it in black ink. You attached it to your wrist, before you handed over your hoody into the cloakroom, walking into the bar in the band room, you brought a pint of beer, and walked over to a place nearer the stage.

An hour and a half later, plus a crap support band, you made your way back to the bar, getting another beer, and beginning to walk back to the crowd, you feel yourself bash into a mans chest
“For fucks sake! Watch where you’re going!” he moans in a melt at the knee’s cockney accent, before looking down at you,
“I’m sorry, at least you have the ability to see over peoples heads, blame my parents, it’s their gene pool that made me this short, now fuck off and stop being a moaning bastard. You’re lucky I’m not halfway through ripping your bollucks off with my left hand whilst I drink this pint with my right” you say simply, pushing past him, as he turns around “Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!”
“Fuck you” you shout back, without turning your head
“!” you hear him say, “Oi, mate,” oh fuck, he knows the band “did you hear the way she spoke to me?” he moans
“I thought that was the way you liked them! Feisty, strong willed…”
“Yeah, but, fuck me! She wasn’t backing down” he groaned,
“Whatever , you love it. Go talk to her, try saying sorry… it helps…” said sarcastically “anyway, we’re on in five, see you later”
“Yeah, yeah” he moaned, dude, all he did was moan!

As ‘You’re a fool’ began, the whole crowd lifted into a sea of jumping heads, made to where he had seen you go looking around for you, with another pint in his hand, he stood beside you, and handed it to you “Sorry” he shouted over the music
“Whatever” you mumble, trying to move away from him, but fall over some-ones shoe, landing in his arms.
“You ok?” he asks
“” you say; you were in his arms, you might as well tell him your name, common courtesy, and all that.
“” he smiles, dude, he has a cute smile “I’m really sorry about the whole thing about me twisting your balls off thing earlier,” you say as you walk downstairs into the bar
“Ahh, it’s alright, you want another drink, seeing as I kinda dropped them when you fell over”
“I’ll get them” you smiled, walking towards the bar, hell, you were missing , but, boy, was the company worth it! You walked back five minutes later, a pint in each hand, before you pull out your packet of cigarettes, “do you mind if I?” you ask, gesturing towards the cigarettes “Not if you give me one, I don’t” he laughed, as you passed him the packet, and the lighter after you’d lit up. “Cheers” he smiled, taking a long drink from his beer and a draw on his cigarette.
“Can I have your autograph?” a young girl who couldn’t have been more than 15 asked him, as you looked puzzled
“Err, yeah, sure,” he said, and grimaced, “, do you have a pen?”
“Only eyeliner” you say, as he holds his hand out, you watch him sign the piece of paper infront of him, then turn back to you
“Sorry about that, all part of the day job” he laughs, and takes another long drink “What do you do then?” you ask, frustrated, as you’re sure that you’ve seen him somewhere before
“Erm,” he says, turning towards you “have you heard of ?” he asked, his voice hushed, you nod, “well, that’s my day job” he says quietly.

The next time you looked at your watch, you realised that it was past midnight, and you’d missed your train
“Fuck!” you exclaim, he and turn to you, puzzled looks on their faces “I’ve missed the last train, fuck!”
“You can come back to mine if you want” he offers
“Uh, I suppose so” after all, you’d spent the last two and a half hours talking to him, and there was nothing else for you to do “want another beer?” you ask, he and nod, as you walk over to the bar. “Dude. She is SO hot,” he says to , un-aware that you are walking back over. You heart skips as you hear him talk about you “our knee’s keep touching, and I’m getting shocks right through me”
“Tell her for Christs sake!” laughed “it’s not like she isn’t flirting back”
“Yeah, but, what if she regrets it in the morning?”
“Then you feel slash look like a twat, I don’t think that she’s the type of person to sell it,” sighed, looking up as he sees you walking back over
“Ahh, cheers , I’ll give you the money for this, cause, I gotta shoot, some of us have a real job to do too” he laughed, cocking his head at , standing up, and pulling his wallet out,
“No, it’s ok, come on, it’s hardly expensive, is it” you laugh, and push ’s offer of �4 away.

Another hour passes, before suggests that you two leave
“Come on then, otherwise we’ll have to wait hours for a cab” he laughs, and stumbles as he stands, before walking over to the door with his hand around your waist. As you walk out of the door, and see a black cab, you see a photographer looking at you, both being slightly worse for wear, you make hand signals at him, and get into the awaiting taxi. Five minutes into the journey, makes a move on you;
“Uh, , um, I, how are you?” he laughs hopelessly
“, how much have you had to drink?” you ask him
“Not all that much, actually,” he sighs, and leans in towards you, pressing his lips against yours, you’re slightly taken-a-back, but return the kiss. The taxi stops outside a small house, and pays the driver, taking your hand, and leading you towards the door, he searches for his keys. As you lean against the door, he presses his lips against yours again, kissing you passionately as he pushes his key into the lock, and pulls your legs around his waist, kicking the door closed. He slowly carries you into the living room, and pushes you down onto the sofa pulling away your sweat and beer stained shirt from your body, and over your brown hair, he sees your tattoo properly; and gently kisses it. Before pulling at your jean waist band, tugging the damp material over your thighs, and your thong with them
“I call this unfair advantage to you;” you say suggestively, running your hands over his smart shirted torso, gently undoing the buttons with your right hand as his picks you up. You pull at the buttons, wanting to feel his warm flesh against you, and as he moves up the stairs, you chuck his shirt over his left shoulder. You slide your hand between your bodies, and slowly undo his belt, releasing his trousers, he struggles out of them, still holding you tightly, and kicks his shoes off, leaving him in just his boxers and socks, and you in just your bra. “You still have one more item of clothing on than me, and don’t you dare suggest that you’re not going to take them off”
“Baby, of course I am going to take my boxers off”
“I’m talking about your socks!” you laugh,
“Oh, right,” he laughs as you feel him pushing against your core, before resting you down on his bed, he tugs your bra off, and throws it out of the door, before pulling off his socks, and picking you up again so as the two of you could move under his sheets. His boxers have somehow been discarded in this event, and are now lying on the floor as he penetrates you; you softly moan his name, raking your nails down his back.

As he withdraws from you for the last time that night, you rest your head against his chest, and fall asleep together.