down,’ Lou wheezed. ‘Can’t…breathe…’ She felt the sudden bite of the night air as he abruptly released her, stepping back almost awkwardly and running his hands through his hair. Weird, Dylan was almost never awkward, seeming immune to any form of embarrassment most of the time.
‘What…um’ he muttered and Lou frowned in confusion. More awkwardness? Bizarre. ‘What did your mum mean by…um…’
Now Lou had always been able to think on her feet. It was a natural ability that came in useful given her impulsive nature. So in a completely self-assured, derisive tone she cut him off, ‘Oh Dildo, don’t get your knickers in a twist. So what if I had a bit of a crush on Ewan when I started at Uni; it’s all water under the bridge now.’ Dylan crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised an eyebrow.
‘You fancied Ewan Evans?’ Lou nodded casually. ‘Ewan wet-pants Evans?’
She shrugged, ‘His other charms overshadowed the whole personal hygiene thing. Not all of us are as squeamish as you.’
‘The guy stank of urine Lou. He notoriously put his dick away before he’d finished pissing and didn’t wash his hands. I watched the sick bastard do it a fair few times myself. The front of his pants had a constant wet patch.’
‘You’re so judgmental.’
‘Babes. I’m not judging him. If he wants to stink of piss then he can be my guest. I’m just expressing doubt that you took one look-slash-smell of him and wanted to check out his urine-soaked knob.’
‘You’ve just got a phobia of urine since I got Bernard to swamp your bed.’ Lou smiled the smug little smile she could never hold in when recalling her victory, and Dylan’s eyes narrowed.
‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘First Bernard, and now wet-pant Ewan. You’ve got some sort of twisted piss fetish. Golden showers and – ‘
‘Yes, yes the smell of urine sets my heart racing blah blah blah,’ Lou interrupted, waving her hands dismissively. ‘I’m a self-confessed urophiliac. Ricky Martin and I would be in seventh heaven together. Now smell my foot.’
‘Smell your foot? Is this another weird – ‘
‘Just smell it will you,’ she balanced on one foot and lifted the other as high as she could, grabbing onto Dylan to stop herself toppling over. ‘You dragged me through a yet-to-be-identified liquid. Obviously I need to know what it was and whether I need to change my stocking. Of course if it is piss I will be in thrills of ecstasy all evening so I’ll probably – ‘
‘You’re wearing stockings?’ Dylan’s voice sounded strangely hoarse and Lou looked at him in confusion.
‘Yes, freak. You know I never wear tights or cotton underwear. Now smell my foot.’ Two slashes of red appeared across Dylan’s cheekbones and Lou saw him swallow before he cleared his throat. She shook her foot at him again and even had to resort to poking him in the tummy with it to snap him out of his stupor. He grabbed her calf, took a deep breath and lowered his head to her foot.
‘Nothing,’ he said in a choked voice before clearing his throat again and releasing her leg. ‘I mean, I think its just water.’
‘Oh well,’ she muttered, shoving her shoe back on. ‘Better luck next time I guess. Maybe I can sneak into the urinals and get some cheap thrills that way.’ Dylan let out a strangled sound, which she thought might have been an attempted laugh at her joke, but his face still had a strangely faraway expression. She snapped her fingers in front of his nose, impatient now to get back to the pub, and furious that she had become the kind of woman who allowed a little bit of heartbreak and an unpleasant family member to run her out of her own birthday party.
‘Come on loser. I need a drink.’
Chapter 11
My Louey
‘Right,’ Lou shouted, slamming her shot glass down on the bar and stamping her foot. ‘Who’s dancing?’
The party had moved onto a bar with a live jazz band and bizarrely an open mic. The result was
‘What…um’ he muttered and Lou frowned in confusion. More awkwardness? Bizarre. ‘What did your mum mean by…um…’
Now Lou had always been able to think on her feet. It was a natural ability that came in useful given her impulsive nature. So in a completely self-assured, derisive tone she cut him off, ‘Oh Dildo, don’t get your knickers in a twist. So what if I had a bit of a crush on Ewan when I started at Uni; it’s all water under the bridge now.’ Dylan crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised an eyebrow.
‘You fancied Ewan Evans?’ Lou nodded casually. ‘Ewan wet-pants Evans?’
She shrugged, ‘His other charms overshadowed the whole personal hygiene thing. Not all of us are as squeamish as you.’
‘The guy stank of urine Lou. He notoriously put his dick away before he’d finished pissing and didn’t wash his hands. I watched the sick bastard do it a fair few times myself. The front of his pants had a constant wet patch.’
‘You’re so judgmental.’
‘Babes. I’m not judging him. If he wants to stink of piss then he can be my guest. I’m just expressing doubt that you took one look-slash-smell of him and wanted to check out his urine-soaked knob.’
‘You’ve just got a phobia of urine since I got Bernard to swamp your bed.’ Lou smiled the smug little smile she could never hold in when recalling her victory, and Dylan’s eyes narrowed.
‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘First Bernard, and now wet-pant Ewan. You’ve got some sort of twisted piss fetish. Golden showers and – ‘
‘Yes, yes the smell of urine sets my heart racing blah blah blah,’ Lou interrupted, waving her hands dismissively. ‘I’m a self-confessed urophiliac. Ricky Martin and I would be in seventh heaven together. Now smell my foot.’
‘Smell your foot? Is this another weird – ‘
‘Just smell it will you,’ she balanced on one foot and lifted the other as high as she could, grabbing onto Dylan to stop herself toppling over. ‘You dragged me through a yet-to-be-identified liquid. Obviously I need to know what it was and whether I need to change my stocking. Of course if it is piss I will be in thrills of ecstasy all evening so I’ll probably – ‘
‘You’re wearing stockings?’ Dylan’s voice sounded strangely hoarse and Lou looked at him in confusion.
‘Yes, freak. You know I never wear tights or cotton underwear. Now smell my foot.’ Two slashes of red appeared across Dylan’s cheekbones and Lou saw him swallow before he cleared his throat. She shook her foot at him again and even had to resort to poking him in the tummy with it to snap him out of his stupor. He grabbed her calf, took a deep breath and lowered his head to her foot.
‘Nothing,’ he said in a choked voice before clearing his throat again and releasing her leg. ‘I mean, I think its just water.’
‘Oh well,’ she muttered, shoving her shoe back on. ‘Better luck next time I guess. Maybe I can sneak into the urinals and get some cheap thrills that way.’ Dylan let out a strangled sound, which she thought might have been an attempted laugh at her joke, but his face still had a strangely faraway expression. She snapped her fingers in front of his nose, impatient now to get back to the pub, and furious that she had become the kind of woman who allowed a little bit of heartbreak and an unpleasant family member to run her out of her own birthday party.
‘Come on loser. I need a drink.’
Chapter 11
My Louey
‘Right,’ Lou shouted, slamming her shot glass down on the bar and stamping her foot. ‘Who’s dancing?’
The party had moved onto a bar with a live jazz band and bizarrely an open mic. The result was
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