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She gives my balls a gentle squeeze and pulls the other sleeping bag over us. We lie with our legs intertwined, her hand still holding my limp dick, my hand cupping her soft breast as I drift into the salty smoky scent of her hair, the kiss of the waves on the shore and the image of the sleek black-backed whales heading out to freedom in the open sea.
Cavern – Jez
Wake to the rhythm of rain on tent. Stretch my legs in the warmth of the sleeping bag. Gethin’s gentle snores like the backing track for the patter. Remembering being woken at dawn by the rain on the beach. Scooping up our stuff and running barefoot up the cliff-path. Decamping to Gethin’s tent – more whisky and spliff and plenty more snogging and stroking before falling asleep. Heads together, Lauryn Hill through one earpiece each.
My head bangs if I move it, but I’m happy just to lie in this cosy haze, his warm bulk beside me. Another stretch. Close my eyes. Another drift.
‘Aw, Fuck’s sake, it’s pissing it down!’
Roused from my doze to the sight of Gethin’s bare arse as he pokes his head out of the door.
‘Morning, gorgeous.’ He slides to lie on his front beside me. Kisses his fingertips. Plants them on my lips. I pretend to bite, and he pulls away with a mock growl.
‘Not sure it is morning to be honest.’ I reach for my phone. ‘Ah: 11:54, right? We have six minutes.’
‘Mustn’t waste it!’ Cheeky look as he reaches to tickle me round the midriff.
‘No, you’ll regret it!’ I shift to get him under his armpit.
‘Enough! Truce!’ he cries after several minutes of tussling. Holds my wrist in a tight grip. ‘Aw, that’s made me hungry. Let’s go to the pub for a bacon butty.’
‘Hair of the dog?’
‘I was like thinking of pig myself.’ So pleased with himself. Have to smile.
Yesterday’s massive open space has shrunk. Cloud touching the ground and muffling even the sound of the sea. We hurry, heads down, hands in pockets. Smell of damp waterproofs adds to the mix of beer and cooking fat as I push open the pub door. Country and Western on the juke box. Babble of people through the warm fug.
Gethin studies the food menu. ‘That’s got my name on it.’ He points to the All-Day Scottish Breakfast Bap.
My stomach rumbles in reply.
‘Shall we make that two All-Days?’ he says as the barman approaches. ‘And are we going straight for the Heavy?’
Think about it for all of one second. ‘Yeah, fuck it. Two pints of Heavy.’
‘And, for the gentleman?’ the barman teases.
We sit by the window alongside the pool table in the big open bar. All seventies bare brick and pine panelling. Fake beams and horse brasses. A middle-aged couple shouting at each other as they finish their game.
‘You cannae defend that kind of talk.’ The woman slams a ball into the pocket. Straightens to walk around the table. ‘It makes no difference whose side she’s on.’
‘If she’s being called a traitorous bitch, it’s no more than she deserves.’ The guy pushes his ratty thin face at her.
The woman shakes her Barbie blond head. ‘So, she’s fair game because she’s famous and female? I tell you, it does your cause no good.’
She leans to take the next shot. He gives her tight jeaned arse a playful slap.
‘Och, sling yer hook, ignorant bastard!’ She kicks a high heeled boot back at him as she pots the next ball.
‘Yay!’ I can’t help cheering, just as the breakfast arrives. The baps are righteous and we both focus on demolishing them.
‘You’ve a healthy appetite,’ Iain appears at our table. He pulls up a stool and sets his pint down.
‘All this outdoor adventure,’ I say through half a mouthful. ‘How are the whales today?’
Iain purses his lips and sighs. ‘The ones on the beach perished overnight. They’re still clearing the carcasses. It’s a terrible shame, though we did well to get the twenty or so back out to sea.’
I drop the remains of my sandwich. Sit frozen.
