Katrina |

“Hey, Arsehole! What have you got on tonight?” Peter Smith asked, as I was making tea in the canteen at work.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m framing a couple of my etchings.”

“Ok. Fuck off! There’s a twenty first birthday party in Searsons tonight. Guaranteed wall to wall babes. Interested?”

“Oh I don’t think that level of base shallowness appeals to me, Smithser.”

“You what,now?”

“Are you looking for someone to push your wheelchair?”

“I am. If that’s another way of saying ‘suck me off’.”

“Ah. An evening of culture awaits. What time?”

“8:00.”

“Ok. Can I crash at your place afterwards?”

“Yes, but you can’t bring anyone back.”

“Mammy Smith is safe enough. These things are always a bust in that way. I’m just going for a bit of a laugh and a few pints.”

“You’re right, but there’s always a chance.”

I looked at him for a second. He was serious.

At 7:30 that evening. I parked the van in the space he’d left for me, behind his car, outside his house. I knocked on the door of the quaint little townhouse, and his mother opened it.

“Ah, Tony!”

“How are you, Ellen? You look ravishing. Are you off out to lure some energetic young stud back to your lair, for a night of gratuitous debauchery?”

“No, I’m sewing buttons on Peter’s new coat.”

“Darn!” I said and she laughed.

“You’re good for my soul, Tony, you always make me laugh.”

“Most of the women I meet say that.”

“Oh, I know different.”

“Have you and your son been swapping tales again.”

“I’d rather not know.”

She bade me come in, and I handed her a small box of Butlers as I passed her by.

“Ah, Tony. You don’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to, Ellen. Now give me a hug and get it over with.”

She gave the best hugs. I liked her enormously.

“Come on, you two youngsters, none of that stuff in the hall. Use your bed, mother. I’m tired of mopping the floor up in here,” Peter laughed from the kitchen door.

“You cheeky little bastard,” she laughed.

“You know I love you, Ma. Now give me a kiss and wish us well on our hunt for lascivious women.”

“Did you teach him that word, Tony?”

“Which word, Ellen. Kiss?”

“You’re as bad as each other. Now get out and do whoever you’re going to do.”

“A mother’s imprimatur. The most cherished thing a young boy could want.”

“It’s a long time since either of you were boys. I thought at this stage of my life I’d be sitting in a comfortable chair beside the fire. Listening to my grandchildren frolic in the back garden. Instead, I’m still raising a thirty year old boy.”

“That wouldn’t be a good thing, Ellen. That’d make you a Granny Smith.”

All three of us cracked up with laughter as she shooed us out through the door.

“Have fun, and be safe.”

Searsons pub was just a short walk from Smither’s house, but it took us twenty five minutes to get there. Every second person passing by wanted to say hello to Peter and invite him somewhere. He was such a prick.

“Ok. Tony, here’s the plan. We go and wish the daughter a Happy Birthday, circulate through the party guests, see if there are any likely candidates and regroup at the bar for a discussion.”

This has been his ‘plan’, for fifteen years. To save time, I’d just go straight to the bar and order a pint.

“Good plan, Smithser,”

So in we went. The place was busy. Lots of regulars, and a section blocked off for the party. I don’t know why pubs do this because it pisses the regulars off no end.

Peter went to greet the birthday girl and her parents. I headed straight to the bar and grabbed the middle one of three empty stools. I ordered a pint, then turned sideways to place my foot on the bottom brace rail of the stool next to me, thereby closing off the space, giving me more comfort.

My pint came and I watched him circulate. He knew everyone there. As I expected, I was left to my own devices and I turned around to talk to the barman, he wasn’t that busy on this side of the pub. At about 8:30 Peter came over and put his arm around me.

“Tony, I’m gonna get out of here. I’ve a couple on the go, it looks promising. If you don’t score, use the key in the electric meter box to get into the house.”

“Happy hunting,” I said, raising a glass.

“Are you his wingman?”

I looked around. A blonde lady was standing behind me.

“Who, Peter’s?”

“Who else?”

“No, he works with me. Work being a euphemism for someone who does nothing all day and gets away with it.”

She laughed.

“Are you a friend of his?” I asked her.

“You could say that. His father was my mother’s best friend’s cousin, so we’re family of sorts.”

“I’m, Tony,” I said, and stuck out my hand.

“I’m Katrina,” she said, and took it.

“This place is filling up, Tony.”

“Here, Katrina. I was saving this for Peter, but you’re far better looking than he is. If you don’t mind sitting at the bar, that is.”

“I’m not proud. Thank you.”

“Do you live around here?”

“No,” she said. “I was actually on a work call around the corner, so I dropped in for a quick drink on my way home.”

“I suppose this is work for me too, babysitting.”

She laughed.

“Seems like it. What are you drinking?”

“Oh, I’ve had a pint, I’ll drink a glass of water and head on home. I hate these things. Let me get one in for you. What’re you having?”

“That’s very kind. I’ll have a tequila, please?”

I ordered her drink, and she told the barman how she liked it.

“It’s very loud in here,” she said. “Care to sit outside in the sun while I get a smoke?”

“Great idea.”

We sat under an awning and she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag. She flashed one my way,

“Do you smoke, Tony?”

“Occasionally, Katrina, but you go ahead.”

She lit one up, inhaled deeply, threw her head back, blew the smoke out of her mouth and her shoulders shook as though she had shivered.

“That was worth the secondary cancer alone, Katrina.”

“What do you mean?”

“You looked like you just had an orgasmic experience just then.”

“An orgasmic experience. Hmm. I’ve heard it called many things, Tony, but that’s a new one.”

“So where do you live? If not around here.”

“I’ve an apartment in Grand Canal Dock.”

“Near the Marker?”

“Yes, right opposite.”

“Nice. That’s an expensive piece of property.”

“I just rent it.”

“Have you been on holiday yet?”

“No. I had planned a break in Spain, but I sliced the top of my finger, and it became infected.”

“Nothing worse than an infected tip.”

She laughed.

“You know what I mean. My finger tip.”

“It doesn’t matter which tip it is. The tip is the most sensitive part. I’ve never thought otherwise.”

She shifted in her seat and leaned closer.

“You put a band aid on it and it’ll be fine.”

“What if it’s the tip of your tongue?”

“It’s a bit of discomfort.”

“It impacts everything, though.”

“Hardly.”

“Yes. The tip controls the choice of touch. Too hard, it can be invasive and irritating.”

“Hmm. I don’t know.

“Place a hard tip adjacent to another less hard tip and it’s off putting at certain junctures.”

“Certain junctures?” Katrina said, colouring slightly.

“It would be ill conceived and ruin the moment.”

“You seem to know a lot about tongues, Tony.”

“Tongues are very important, Katrina.”

“Yes, they are. You couldn’t communicate without one.”

“Exactly. Can you imagine a kiss without tongues?”

“I, I didn’t…”

“Imagine being a tongue when your lips meet someone else’s for the first time. The lips touch and open slightly in embrace. You reach out to taste her lips, like a lover searching for a partner.”

“Yes.”

“You brave the unknown, take a slow foray beyond those eloquent lips. Hope rises. You enter her mouth, brush against her teeth in search of touch and warmth and sensuality. It’s not to be found. You’re crushed, abandoned, forlorn.”

“You make it sound like a disaster, Tony. It’s only a kiss.”

Her elbows were on the table as she looked into my eyes.

“That first kiss is everything, Katrina. Everything before that is peripheral, everything after can be heaven.”

Our faces were no more than three inches apart. There was an element of panic, mixed with confusion, on her face but her eyes never lost mine.

“I’ve never,”

“I never used to, now I know better.”

She took a quick look around. We were the only ones in the smoking area.

“Show me.”

I took her hand and led her to a more private corner. She was a beauty. She had pale blue eyes and long straight blonde hair that I suspected were extensions. Her hands were in the pockets of a lightweight pink overcoat. I took her face in my hands and kissed her softly on the lips. Her eyes were cold as our lips touched. She relaxed them slightly and I kissed her bottom lip as my thumbs stroked her face. My fingertips lightly touched the skin behind her ears as I then kissed her top lip. Her eyes closed and slowly opened again, they were no longer as cold.

I placed my lips on hers and opened my mouth slowly, taking hers with me. My tongue touched her bottom lip and hers joined mine. The motion of our kiss increased and my tongue ventured further, engaging with hers. Her breath came heavier and her arms went around me. I slid my arms around her waist as our kiss became an examination of soul. It was a very long and intimate kiss and at the end she rested her head on my shoulder. I just listened to her breath. She finally lifted her head, shook her hair from her face and smiled demurely. She reached into her pocket and handed me a card.

“I’m going home now. Here’s my address. Call me in an hour and I’ll buzz you in.”

“Do you want me to drop you home?”

“We probably wouldn’t make it that far.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Katrina.”

She picked her bag up, kissed me on the lips and left.

“What are you doing?” Smithser whispered in my ear, after she was gone.

“What do you think I was doing?”

“You had a lucky escape there, pal.”

“Why? I’m gonna meet her at her place in an hour.”

“You’d better bring five hundred Euro in cash then, she’s an escort.”

“Yeah, I knew that, but I won’t be paying.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, right.”

I held up my finger to him, pulled out my phone and dialled her number.

“Katrina here,” she said.

“Tony Harris. Do I need to visit a cash machine.”

“No way in hell and why haven’t you left yet.”

“Fuck!” Smithser said. “How did you do that? That’s impossible.”

“I spoke to her on a level she understands.”

“But she’s a hooker.”

“I’m going to help her, Peter. A hooker is a person too, and she is a beautiful one.”