blind enough to want to do it with
him
...
He quickly clicked off the Teen Porn website on his computer. Some blonde with a giant-sized dick in her mouth. Ten times bigger than Jez's...
"A Vivaldi, thanks."
"Clever boy." The Maggot smiling again. "I like it. How's the violin going by the way?" he asked, black eyes swivelling round Louis’ bedroom, his nose wrinkling slightly. "I hope Mrs Barber's giving credit where credit’s due..."
"She says I'll be first violin for the end of year concert."
"Excellent. Look, I've been thinking..."
Louis sighed inwardly. Another trip to the Science Museum or a stint at the city library was looming. He knew his not-real dad of old. This was his way of greasing him up for something.
"We'd like you to play at our
soirée
on Saturday," he said finally.
"We?"
"Yes. Your mother and me. of course. Build up your confidence. Show you and your school off a bit."
Louis turned to face him. "You mean, show you off a bit."
The Maggot blinked. "No, I didn't mean that at all, and by the way," his tone altered, "I hear you've been upsetting her."
"I only asked a perfectly reasonable question."
"And I would say, Louis, count your blessings."
"Blessings? You must be fucking kidding."
"Just then, The Maggot’s mobile interrupted his next riposte. He withdrew it from his trouser pocket and clamped the thing to his ear in eager anticipation. But then his face fell.
"David? Susan here, number 9," the voice crackled. "Sorry to disturb, but have you a mo?"
He checked his watch and frowned. The widow had never phoned before. Usually he and The Fawn just nodded if they saw her, but each Meadow Hill resident kept everyone’s contact details in case of emergency. And judging by The Maggott’s next expression, something was up.
"There's a Neighbourhood Watch meeting at my house at nine." The woman went on. "A constable someone or other is coming, which makes a change. Bad enough our pillars have been vandalised yet again, but the Murrays said some Scrub Enders were trespassing here this afternoon. If we don't stop it now, it'll be the slippery slope..."
Once The Maggot agreed to attend, Louis decided to go too. Seeing a pig in close-up would be cool. He’d find out what he knew.
He’d also play at the
soirée
or whatever that stupid evening was called, and wear his black waistcoat and red tie decorated with quavers. The one The Fawn bought him for the school's end of year concert. Moreover, he would play ‘like an angel,’ the old Barb's very words after his last performance. Not because he wanted to, but because he must.
16
The Maggot and The Fawn didn't hold hands. Unlike the Smiths or even the Linbergs who walked down from number 5 to number 9 with their arms loose around each other's bodies. Louis also noticed that she led the way to the widow's house. A woman he detested, like Grandma, The Fawn's dead mother in Swindon. And whenever he came across Susan Linklater, imagined her dry old muff and its grey hairs like mould he'd once grown in Science.
He hung back, looking over his shoulder, checking on everything more now, aware of sweat surfacing under his new white shirt that The Fawn had made him wear.
Suddenly a blue and yellow chequered Mondeo cruised into the development and stopped in the kerb by number 9.
A shirt-sleeved pig at the wheel.
Despite disappointment at the lack of full uniform, Louis nevertheless grinned and waved at this stranger as if he was a mate. The pig grinned back. A right pushover, thought Louis as the panting Zellers caught up with him and The Maggot. He smelt garlic from the German's gut. Saw his full dry lips like a baguette crust. His wife was no better with her tits down to her waist.
"It's good to see the law around here at last, ja?" Franz Zeller said, eyeing The Fawn's butt and panty line showing through her cream, cotton trews. "This could be most significant... "
His wife pointedly overtook him, her horny heels overlapping
him
...
He quickly clicked off the Teen Porn website on his computer. Some blonde with a giant-sized dick in her mouth. Ten times bigger than Jez's...
"A Vivaldi, thanks."
"Clever boy." The Maggot smiling again. "I like it. How's the violin going by the way?" he asked, black eyes swivelling round Louis’ bedroom, his nose wrinkling slightly. "I hope Mrs Barber's giving credit where credit’s due..."
"She says I'll be first violin for the end of year concert."
"Excellent. Look, I've been thinking..."
Louis sighed inwardly. Another trip to the Science Museum or a stint at the city library was looming. He knew his not-real dad of old. This was his way of greasing him up for something.
"We'd like you to play at our
soirée
on Saturday," he said finally.
"We?"
"Yes. Your mother and me. of course. Build up your confidence. Show you and your school off a bit."
Louis turned to face him. "You mean, show you off a bit."
The Maggot blinked. "No, I didn't mean that at all, and by the way," his tone altered, "I hear you've been upsetting her."
"I only asked a perfectly reasonable question."
"And I would say, Louis, count your blessings."
"Blessings? You must be fucking kidding."
"Just then, The Maggot’s mobile interrupted his next riposte. He withdrew it from his trouser pocket and clamped the thing to his ear in eager anticipation. But then his face fell.
"David? Susan here, number 9," the voice crackled. "Sorry to disturb, but have you a mo?"
He checked his watch and frowned. The widow had never phoned before. Usually he and The Fawn just nodded if they saw her, but each Meadow Hill resident kept everyone’s contact details in case of emergency. And judging by The Maggott’s next expression, something was up.
"There's a Neighbourhood Watch meeting at my house at nine." The woman went on. "A constable someone or other is coming, which makes a change. Bad enough our pillars have been vandalised yet again, but the Murrays said some Scrub Enders were trespassing here this afternoon. If we don't stop it now, it'll be the slippery slope..."
Once The Maggot agreed to attend, Louis decided to go too. Seeing a pig in close-up would be cool. He’d find out what he knew.
He’d also play at the
soirée
or whatever that stupid evening was called, and wear his black waistcoat and red tie decorated with quavers. The one The Fawn bought him for the school's end of year concert. Moreover, he would play ‘like an angel,’ the old Barb's very words after his last performance. Not because he wanted to, but because he must.
16
The Maggot and The Fawn didn't hold hands. Unlike the Smiths or even the Linbergs who walked down from number 5 to number 9 with their arms loose around each other's bodies. Louis also noticed that she led the way to the widow's house. A woman he detested, like Grandma, The Fawn's dead mother in Swindon. And whenever he came across Susan Linklater, imagined her dry old muff and its grey hairs like mould he'd once grown in Science.
He hung back, looking over his shoulder, checking on everything more now, aware of sweat surfacing under his new white shirt that The Fawn had made him wear.
Suddenly a blue and yellow chequered Mondeo cruised into the development and stopped in the kerb by number 9.
A shirt-sleeved pig at the wheel.
Despite disappointment at the lack of full uniform, Louis nevertheless grinned and waved at this stranger as if he was a mate. The pig grinned back. A right pushover, thought Louis as the panting Zellers caught up with him and The Maggot. He smelt garlic from the German's gut. Saw his full dry lips like a baguette crust. His wife was no better with her tits down to her waist.
"It's good to see the law around here at last, ja?" Franz Zeller said, eyeing The Fawn's butt and panty line showing through her cream, cotton trews. "This could be most significant... "
His wife pointedly overtook him, her horny heels overlapping
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