How did we even get here? There was the club: neon and cheap vodka and lipstick in the cracked mirror. Then the bus ride. The city lights smeared lines of gold. Then a café, tea for Holly, coffee for me. A drunk with a bible gets freebies from the Greek sandwich jockey. Punks and hipsters make an uneasy truce by the jukebox. Ah now I remember. She says I should stay over. I stay over at Holly’s a lot these days.
The balcony. Small, a potted rosemary tries to become a tree. Basil, oregano, marjoram, overlap and interlink, savoury perfume. There is rain coming in. Undercloud glows like the cherry of a lucky strike. Holly hands me a gin. Sharp lemon, bitter tonic, sweet Bombay. Fizzle and snap on my dozy lips.
Then her lips. I didn’t see that coming. I like to pretend I’m innocent. Don’t you? She isn’t there and then she is. We are touching, finding places to put down the tumblers. Mustn’t spill. What would our mothers think? I have a skirt and a tee, she leggings and crop. She is short. She kisses my top lip with hers, then the bottom. Her hand moves up my leg. I cup her through her skinsuit.