Page 39 of Calling Frank O'Hare

The music changed to something boring and mainstream. Adrian grabbed his sleeve. ‘Let’s go to the other room, see what’s playing.’

The other room was playing older music. Tamla Motown. Frank recognised it from stuff his ma and da sometimes listened to.

When ‘Baby Love’ came on he saw her moving onto the floor, the vision that was Ellen Montague. She was with other girls. The cockney she’d been with before was nowhere to be seen. This was his chance. He turned to Adrian, but Ade was already on his way towards the girl he was after. Well then, he might as well do the same.

There were less people in this room so Ellen Montague clocked him before he got to her. She raised her eyebrows at him and watched him getting closer. Her long, slender arms opened and she wrapped them around him. He started to say one of the lines he’d been rehearsing all day, but she silenced him with a kiss. They danced, too slow for the record, but she didn’t seem to care. Next came ‘My Guy’. It was one of Ma’s favourites. It seemed wrong somehow to be snogging to one of his mother’s records, especially with a steaming hard-on, but Ma would never know.

Ellen Montague slid her hand between their bodies and held it against his dick. He felt he should apologise for the state of it but her eyes met his, and the colour of them – grey with flecks of gold – took his words away.

She leaned into his ear: ‘We should do something about that.’ Then she took his hand and led him off the floor and out of the club.

She pulled him into one of the taxis lined up outside. ‘Let’s go to yours.’

‘I don’t have enough money to pay for a taxi.’

She laughed. ‘I do.’

All the way there, she kept rubbing his crotch. It was only the driver watching in the rear-view mirror that stopped Frank from exploding. When they got to his room he hardly had time to get his clothes off before she was on top of him. She hadn’t even bothered taking off her skirt. Frank held on for as long as he could, which wasn’t long.

Afterwards, they lay on his bed, him, half-naked, her, fully clothed except for her panties.

‘Sorry it was so quick,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘I’m amazed you managed to hold on for that long. I’m obviously not as sexy as I thought I was.’

He’d never met anyone so self-assured and confident. ‘You’re awful sure of yourself.’

‘I am. Comes with the upbringing I’m afraid, Irishman.’

Frank laughed. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

She reached for her bag and produced a ready-rolled joint. ‘Don’t I? Do you know mine?’

‘I do. Ellen Montague.’

She lit up her smoke. ‘You’ve been doing your homework. Well so have I, Frank O’Hare. And guess what, you have a reputation. You’re the boy who can’t keep his dick in his trousers.’ She blew smoke into his face and the smell of weed filled his nostrils.

‘Is that why you jumped on me?’

‘Thought I’d give you a road test before I decided.’

‘Decided what?’

She smiled and handed him the joint.

Frank took a draw. ‘What happened to the cockney you were with at that party?’

‘Long gone, darling. Far too stupid and boring. Possessive too. The three worst crimes, in my opinion. Never, ever try to possess me, Frank. I hate being shackled.’

‘I promise I’ll never try to possess you. Till death us do part.’ He made the sign of the cross over his heart.

She took the joint, had a long draw and then kissed him, transferring the smoke and taste into his mouth. ‘Don’t worry about the speed. We’ll take it slower next time.’

‘There’s going to be a next time?’

‘Oh yes. You’re mine now, Frank O’Hare. I’ve decided.’

26

---