Star Fish (6 page)

– Ten –

Pisces:
The new moon in Aquarius spells fun today. Take the time to catch up with some old friends.

‘Oh my God, sweetie, I just saw six of the little darlings poking their heads up at me.’

Brad shrieked with a white mask over his mouth.

‘Where? Where? I thought they were all dead.’

‘You’ve frightened them now.’

Brad and I were in my garden checking out the frogs in my pond, he looking like an extra from
Holby City
I love my house, especially my garden. It is a two-bedroom Victorian terrace and I have at last decorated every single room. It has a little square courtyard area with an archway of honeysuckle leading to a ten-foot strip of grass with rose borders each side and then further on is ‘The Pond’.

I had always wanted a pond. I was so excited when I first viewed the house and saw the pond from the upstairs bedroom window that I squealed, jumped up and down and then kissed the estate agent full on the lips. Which wouldn’t have been so bad apart from the fact that the estate agent was a sixty-year-old she, with a moustache.

Every year, the frogs carried out their mating ritual (watched over eagerly by me and Penelope), leaving behind their tiny black dots of babies in the hazy clouds of spawn that decorated the secret green surface of my pond. My ritual every morning after breakfast was to run down the garden to my pond to see the progress of my babies. They were defying all of my childhood knowledge of tadpole development in the fact that they were refusing to grow. I was so concerned that I had been feeding them raw minced steak. This resulted in the pond turning into a stinking shrine to my frog family.

It has also resulted in Penelope sitting on the edge of the pond sneering at me with jealousy for making such a fuss over pondlife. If it hadn’t have stunk so much I’m sure that he would have just dived in and eaten them all despite his fear of water. Penelope was a huge part of my life. His connection to James Crook was the only low point, as in one of the few romantic moments in our time together James had bought me Penelope as a birthday present.

Yes, Penelope is actually a tom. I was both delighted and disappointed when I went to the vets to pay the bill for what I thought was tubes being cut and was informed by a very young snooty female vet that. ‘Ms Anderson, your pet is actually a male and I have removed his testicles.’

Delighted, because the bill was quite a bit cheaper! Sad because I knew that Penelope would be confused for ever as I couldn’t change his name: it really suited him. Well, I did consider it momentarily, but couldn’t think of a male equivalent of anything that sounded remotely like Penelope.

Living with me, Penelope has heard more swearing, more heart rending stories, and licked off more tears than anyone else I know. In fact, I’m sure I once heard him squeak, ‘Shut up!’

I say squeak because he had a nasty accident as a kitten which destroyed his miaow box. I used to live in a one-bedroom flat that had a hot water system that was put in before they were officially invented, I reckon. I used to be able to make a reasonable cup of tea from the hot tap, it was so boiling. One day I went off to work one day and Anna, having stayed over night on my collapsing sofa bed, decided she’d have a nice long bath before she went home. The water came out of the bath taps so slowly that a bath took an hour to run which was actually quite handy because by the time you were ready to get into it, the water had cooled to exactly the right temperature. If you needed to top up you had to make sure your toes were well out of the way and I used my largest rubber duck to swirl the hot water all around.

Penelope, a mere eight weeks old, being a typical inquisitive kitten decided to check out the huge ‘swimming pool’ in the bathroom. Anna, patiently waiting for the bath to fill, feet up on the sofa bed reading a magazine, suddenly heard what she described later as a child screaming in my bathroom.

Penelope had done the unthinkable – taken a dive into two inches of boiling water. He was immediately rushed to the vet, with scalds on all paws and an affected mew box. I don’t know who looked more terrible when I got in, Anna or Penelope.

Ruminating sadly on all this, I suddenly heard a familiar slipper-shuffling noise from next door. A quavering voice called out, ‘Gloria? Gloria, is that you?’

Smiling, I mouthed a big ‘Oh No’ to Brad. ‘Yes. Hello, Jed, everything OK?’ I shouted.

Jed was my neighbour. He was eighty-two and going more deaf by the day. Ever since I had moved in he had called me Gloria. I had tried to correct him on several occasions and he had done his familiar slow nod, which only mildly disturbed the cigarette that was stuck permanently to his bottom lip, as if he had understood. However, the next day he would always say, ‘Morning, Gloria,’ as I did my pond dash after breakfast.

He also always said: ‘Rain today, I reckon.’

And I always replied, ‘Let’s hope not, Jed.’

That was the basis of our neighbourly relationship. However, today he excelled himself, maybe because it was a Saturday.

‘Morning Gloria. Rain today, I reckon?’

‘Let’s hope not, Jed.’

I had to hit Brad, as he was hysterical. For some reason Jed’s mere presence just cracked him up and then suddenly there was a cough, another shuffle and amazingly, more words.

‘Blimey, Gloria, that pond don’t half stink!’

I then was holding back my laughter. ‘You’re right there, Jed but Brad has offered to clean it out, so hopefully tomorrow we shall have fresh air again.’

With another shuffle and a snort he disappeared inside number 19.

‘Clean your pond out? You’ll be lucky.’

‘Oh Brad please, I’ll help you.’

‘But it’s a boys job,’ he whinged.

Eventually deciding that we needed expert advice before we went ahead with the awful mission of cleaning out the pond, we proceeded inside for a bottle of dry white. After a couple of glasses Brad suddenly announced ‘I know! Amy Anderson, can’t sing, eats like a horse, will strip for a packet of jelly babies!

That might get you a few more suitors.’

Laughing wildly we carried on along the same theme.

‘Brad Sampson, trainspotter, likes cabbage, can fart the national anthem’.

‘Amy Anderson, can’t cook, closet lesbian, used to be shot-putter from Cardiff’.

‘Brad Sampson, face like a smacked arse, likes pressed flowers and puppies in curries!’ That is so enough! I’m going to wet myself,’ I shouted as I rushed upstairs to the loo. Why couldn’t I meet someone as funny as Brad, I thought, and then the phone rang.

‘Amy?’

‘Yes, who’s that?’

‘It’s Carl.’

‘Carl? Oh hi there. Sorry, I was miles away. You’re my Piscean – sorry again, I mean you’re my date for Saturday. Christopher did mention you were going to call.’

‘Yeah cool. Well, I hope you don’t mind me phoning, Chris said it would be OK. He’s such a dude, don’t you think?’

‘He’s OK, I s’pose.’ I had given my mobile number to Chris for him to give out to prospective dates as I figured I could screen calls more easily that way.

‘I’ve been invited to a wedding last minute like, and rather than see you in the evening as I had originally thought, I wondered if you’d like to come along with me as my guest for the whole day?’

‘That would be really nice, Carl.’

‘Cool. See you Saturday then, babe.’

‘Wait a sec, where shall we meet?’

‘Oh yeah, the wedding’s in Windsor – can you make it there? How about we meet in the reception of the Royal Hotel at around eleven a.m.?

‘Fine by me, see you then.’

‘Yeah, see you, babe. Looking forward to it.’

I had to let H know. ‘H?’

‘Hi hon, what’s happening? Any news I should know about?’

‘Just spoken to the new contender. Cordelia has sent his photo through. He’s Spanish-looking with longish dark hair and surprisingly dark eyes. Pisceans tend to have light eyes – must be the Spanish connection. Anyway, he sounded like he was very laid back so we shall see. He’s taking me to a wedding on Saturday.’

‘A wedding!’ H shrieked. ‘Oh my God, how exciting, how romantic! Oh my God, and he’s Piscean – that means he will be romantic too, and you know what they say about weddings.’

‘H, calm down, love. Impressed you’ve been reading up on the old star signs though.’

‘You know it will evoke all sorts of lustful feelings, you’re bound to shag him. Oh, and as for the reading up on stars bit I should know what Pisceans are like. I’ve been friends with the daftest one in the world for a few years, you know!’

‘H!’ I was now giggling too.

‘Could do with a bit of a clinch with a Spanish stallion myself. I’m really excited for you,’ she said matily.

‘Poor Horace, what he has to put up with. I’d best go and sort an outfit. Will you be free to dress me on Saturday?’

‘Sure I will. Talk soon.’

‘Seeya.’

‘I don’t know why you don’t stick that phone to your bloody ear, sweetie.’

‘Shut it, Brad. You’ll have to go. I’m going to The Oracle Centre to find an outfit for this wedding.’

‘Shopping, sweetie? Count me in. Let’s go.’

‘See you later, Pen.’

‘I’m sure your cat just said ‘shit off, bitch’.’

‘Brad! Come
on
!’

The phone rang. ‘Amy, it’s Christopher here. Just wanted to check that Carl had called you?’

‘Yes, he sounds nice actually. Well, apart from the fact he called me babe.’

‘He’s the one I mentioned on our first meeting – I thought you’d get along with him really well, so go for it, girl.’

I was never sure if Christopher was genuinely concerned or whether he got some sort of bonus if a date actually went well.

‘Oh, and Declan is still keen to meet up with you next Friday,’ he added.

‘OK, Friday it is for Declan and Saturday for Carl. Better to squeeze Declan in before Carl, I guess as if you think Carl’s the man for me, it might be my last fling!’

Joking aside, this whole date business was becoming quite exhausting. I did want to meet up with the real Declan, but I knew somehow that he wouldn’t live up to my experience in the hotel, so something in me was putting it off. I kept having rose-tinted daydreams that I would bump into the false Declan and we’d make mad passionate love again and he’d realise that I was the woman of his dreams.

‘Princess! Wakey-wakey. The shops won’t stay open all day, you know’

‘I’m coming!’

– Eleven –

Pisces:
A marriage of minds will lead to a fulfilling experience today.

It had been a bloody expensive lunch hour. Suffering from an extreme hangover, I suddenly felt sorry for all the homeless people I came across in Reading town centre and gave them money. Then I got back to my car and found I had a parking ticket. This distressed me greatly, as one of my New Year’s resolutions had been
not
to get parking tickets.

I usually got at least six a year. However I had already paid out £160 since January 1st and it was only the beginning of March.

I had left my standard note for the attendant saying
No change, pay on return,
but the bastard had completely ignored it. Well I’m writing to the Council, so there. No one will know that I had no intention of paying on my return.

‘Parking ticket?’ Sam asked when he saw the look on my face as I returned to my office.

‘Shit Off!’ I tried really hard to look annoyed but had to burst out laughing.

‘Maybe you should have a herbal tea, love, it might calm you.’

I stood up dramatically, swished my hair back over my shoulders and stormed towards the kitchen. ‘I’m getting a black coffee, after which I shall attempt to source a circus tent, so please leave me alone to get on with some work.’

I really enjoyed my job as the Event Manager in Marketing. My job involved arranging anything from small seminars for twenty people right up to the huge event I was working on at the moment for a thousand delegates, which was to be hosted in a big top on the banks of the Thames. It was certainly going to be a challenge.

My boss Mr Parkinson was really good to work for. He always gave me pay rises at the right time, praised me at the right time and even bought me flowers on my birthday. Too good to be true, one may think. To be honest I think he fancies me a bit. I have never had even a slight reciprocal flutter in the nether regions, which is a blessing, as I’m not really in to short, balding men with nasal hair and 2 inch thick spectacle lenses. Mr Parkinson is married to Pru in Accounts. She too has nasal hair and thick spectacles, so heaven help them if they were ever to breed, as I think they may actually produce a mole.

Before I set about the task of looking for a big top supplier, I thought I’d take a quick look for pond websites to get some hints and tips on cleaning out my pond without killing the tadpoles. Amazingly, there were loads of them. I started to have a bout of hysteria when I came across not only Frank’s Pond Page but also Bert’s Pond Life, both outlining in great detail, with pictures, how these poor sad blokes had built their ponds step by step.

I was relieved from my mirth by a familiar number flashing up on my phone monitor.

‘Event Slut helpline!’ I trilled.

‘Whatcha doing later, Minger?’ Liv asked. She only sat about ten feet from my desk but we always rang each other to save shouting our business across the office.

‘Well, amazingly my friend, I’m not out on a date so do you fancy doing something?’ ‘Well…’ Olivia hesitated.

‘What’s up?’

‘Well…’

‘Spit it out, Liv.’

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

‘Don’t have to what?’

‘I’ve roped myself in to going on one of those dinner-date things. Everyone is single and you basically have dinner and then mingle with the guests. If you get on, then fine – if you don’t, well same as with you with your astrology dates. You don’t have to see them ever again.’

‘Fab. So do I take it there is a space then?’

‘Yeah. The woman who runs it has just called to say there has been a dropout and did I know any nice eligible young ladies to come along instead? I said, sadly no – but I knew you.’

‘Ha bloody ha. Just let me know where I have to be and when, my love. What a laugh!’

‘Oh, and Ames, don’t forget I’m cooking you a sumptuous feast for your birthday next week.’

‘Forget that? It would be like forgetting Christmas!’

The changing of the guard at Windsor Castle always gives me a little bit of a tingle, don’t know why really. It’s not even anything to do with all those uniforms. Maybe it’s just the noise and extravaganza.

I was sitting in the reception of the Royal Hotel waiting for Carl. It was hectic there, I can tell you. The hubble-bubble of excited tourists with all their different spatterings of language could be heard above the bang, bang of the soldiers’ drums. The Saturday morning shoppers were rushing around wishing the tourists would get out of their way and here I was, Amy Jane Anderson, slightly nervous, looking resplendent in bright blue (my favourite colour) on yet another date.

‘Amy Anderson?’

‘That’s me.’

‘How ya doing, chick? Like the funky dress.’

‘Thanks. I was worried you might not see me amongst this lot.’

I pointed to a busload of Chinese tourists who had just congregated in the reception area.

‘In that dress?’ Carl laughed.

He wasn’t bad-looking. He was a true likeness to his photo – Cordelia hadn’t had to touch him up much. His shoulder-length dark hair suited him and his brown eyes could have been transplanted straight from a deer. He was, however, wearing a cringeworthy red shirt with big white flowers on that clashed dreadfully with my dress. He was also wearing baggy jeans, to a wedding! Only his shoes redeemed him in the fact that they were black Doc Martens. I had a thing for men in Doc Martens, a teenage fetish kind of thing. What did put me off, however, were his sideburns, which were long and trimmed to a sharp point, almost down to his mouth.

Carl was a trendy young dude in my books. A toy boy at twenty-nine as well, which was nice. I’ve always liked younger men – which I feel has possibly been to my detriment in the settling-down stakes. I once spent a fantastic night with a lad eight years my junior whom I met in Lanzarote. I was visiting my mate Katie and her Ice Man (he delivered ice to bars in his special refrigerated truck) and we decided to hit the town. Me being the ultimate party animal, we always had to go to what I called ‘the red-light district’ of Puerto del Carmen. It’s basically one of those awful holiday bar areas, with the even more awful PRs who drag you in off the street for your free glass of camel pee.

Anyway, it got to around 3 a.m. and Ice Man decided we should go to Charlie’s Bar to meet up with some staff from a Scottish bar that had just closed for the night.

I staggered along and was immediately thrilled as firstly a live band was playing and secondly sitting in the crowd that Ice Man was moving towards was a vision of loveliness.

Tom was cute; he had a wide smile with beautiful teeth. I
love
perfect teeth. He had blond hair with a floppy fringe and a fit, brown body, emphasised by the tight white T-shirt he was wearing. He had a silver dolphin earring in his left ear and when he threw his head back to laugh, I spotted a stud in his tongue. I found this instantly erotic. The seven rum and Cokes I had had in the sea-front cocktail bar had made me very brave. Without any introduction I was over to Tom like a shot.

‘Hi, there. I’m Amy and I’m staying with my mate Katie for a long weekend.’

‘Hi there. Great to meet you. Your tan’s coming along well.’ He smiled his big white smile and then with no warning took my hand and kissed it. I could actually feel a tingle run right through my body. Not just because of his touch, but the soft Scottish accent had nearly the same effect on me as an Irish one.

‘So I take it you work out here then?’ I asked rather hoarsely.

‘Yeah, I work in the Scots Bar. Been here with a couple of my mates since we left university.

‘Lucky you. I could do with waking up every day and being able to walk to that beautiful beach.’

‘I don’t go down to the beach that much, actually. In fact, I’ve only been down there about five times. I rarely get to bed before dawn – I get up late afternoon, eat, maybe lie on my balcony for an hour, then it’s back to work, party hard and off to bed again.’

‘So why do it?’

‘I love the buzz of it all and I do get a day off a week. If you do want to slow the pace you can go into the mountains and it beats being in the rain at home.’ He then smiled and looked at me with his piercing green eyes. ‘I also get the chance to meet pretty girls like you.’

‘Tequila slammers for all!’ Katie was off and running. I had a feeling this would be a long night. Three slammers later, I was so full of alcohol I felt like I was actually drinking myself sober.

My lustometer was almost off the scale. There is something about the sun and sea that makes me feel very horny, and all I wanted to do was grab Tom right here in this crowded bar and snog his face off. Instead I came out meekly at first with, ‘If you don’t mind me asking Tom, how old are you?’

‘I was twenty-two on May the twenty-fourth. How about you?’

I screwed my face up. ‘I’m thirty, actually.’

‘Fantastic! So we’re both at our peaks, I reckon. Where did you say you were staying tonight?’

He was a Gemini; hallelujah, we could sleep on the beach for all I cared!

We decided to move on to Dreams nightclub after Charlie’s Bar. Katie and Ice Man had to leave – well, were asked to leave as Katie thought she was dancing on a table but she was actually dancing on a bouncer who had bent down to look for a missing handbag.

Katie shouting across the dance floor ‘Go for your life, Ames!’ did not deter Tom.

In fact, it inspired him to grab me firmly and press his lips to mine. Oh my God, what a kisser. I thought I was going to melt against his lips, so moist and warm, and then I suddenly felt something hard and cold! I was just about to scream when I realised that it was his tongue stud.

Once I got the hang of it being there, I can honestly say I have never kissed anyone so sexy in my whole life. It was like some sort of tongue challenge; all I wanted to do was sort of suck it and kiss at the same time. He probably thought he was kissing a fish but I didn’t care.

We practically ran back to Katie’s apartment. I pulled out the sofa bed in the lounge and started to rip my clothes off. Tom’s body was amazing. His muscles were really defined, accentuated by his golden tan. His skin was smooth and taut. I was quite scared that I might come just kissing him, so instead I started to kiss him from his toes upwards.

He had a Questful penis, to be sure. He was standing proud and I just had to have him inside of me. I then teased him slightly by blowing on him until he pulled me towards him.

‘Amy, you are completely gorgeous. I want you so badly.’

I felt so, so good. I was brown, I was wearing my best white lacy g-string and I had remembered to spray John Paul Gaultier in all the right places. I have to say my head was swimming slightly with all the tequila, but it was also feeling fuzzy with desire. I could hear the sound of the waves on the beach in the background. This was just
so
fantastic.

‘Shit – condom,’ Tom murmured.

For some strange reason Katie had left a condom on the kitchen worktop. I had spotted it earlier and thought it must be fate that this was all so organised.

‘Quick, give it here. I have to have you right now.’ He tore open the gold wrapper and then started laughing heartily.

‘What’s up?’ I was quivering with desire now and in no mood for laughing.

‘Don’t think this will have quite the desired effect.’ He giggled as he held up a mosquito repellent tablet.

‘Shit, shit, how embarrassing. Sorry.’

‘It’s OK – we’ll just have to be careful.’

‘Let me just check in the bathroom first.’

‘Hurry up then.’

I had a quick wee and rifled through Katie’s bathroom cabinet. Fate again – I found an in-date Durex and ran back into the lounge.

‘Drum roll, please. Tom and Amy can have it off right now!’

No response.

‘Tom?’

Tom was lying on his back snoring. I kissed his beautiful lips and then put my fingers under the covers so I could touch myself. I was so aroused and just had to come.

I fantasised about Tom pushing hard into me against a rock on the beach and fell asleep feeling completely satisfied.

‘Amy, are you OK?’

‘Sorry, Carl. I blinked and came back to the present. So where’s this wedding then?’

‘Upstairs, actually. They are having a civil ceremony and the evening do here as well.’

‘Great, so what are we waiting for?’

‘I say that we have a cheeky glass of champagne and then go for a walk by the river as the wedding doesn’t start until three.’

‘Three!’ H and I had really rushed to make me look magnificent and I could have had an extra few hours to do so. Carl, the ever-sensitive Piscean, saw the look on my face. ‘Sorry if this isn’t OK with you, Amy. I just thought that it’s so cool by the river here and it would give us a chance to chat and get to know each other better.’

‘That is just so sweet. Of course I’m fine – champagne it is.’

The fact it was early March and there was a biting wind did not deter Carl. For reasons of vanity I hadn’t put on my thick winter coat; instead I had just madly thrown a woollen pashmina over my shoulders. Luckily the two glasses of champagne we had just swigged in the bar were giving me some slight alcoholic warmth.