Adventures in Dating...in Heels Read online

  “Evidently, I know nothing about private schools. Why don’t you tell me about Tom’s school days?” I rested my head on my hands, elbows propped on the table.

  His rugbyish build was from being forced to play it since primary school—”football was too common, so we only played rugger”—but he wasn’t good enough to be in any of the school teams, though. He’d left school for college “to reject my parents’ oppressive expectations”—so oppressive they’d already placed an order for a brand-new mini Mercedes for his upcoming seventeenth birthday and had insisted he didn’t get a part-time job to distract him from his studies, so instead gave him an allowance double my two-days-a-week TK Maxx wages.

  I’d told him why I’d left school, in complete contrast to his reasons.

  “How’s college now?”

  “Nothing like school, thank fuck.” I laughed quietly, playing with the beer mat on the table.

  He really couldn’t believe how I’d got bullied at school. “You’d have been such a smash at my school. I simply can’t understand why you had such a hard time at yours.”

  “Maybe something to do with it being a comp and not some finishing school for Oxford and Cambridge?”

  He pondered this for a while, and I wondered if someone could really be that privileged and that detached from real life.

  He checked his watch. “I’ve to be back at college in an hour.”

  “Why, do you turn into a pumpkin?”

  “That’s where the driver’s meeting me.”

  “Are you learning to drive? You’re not seventeen yet.”

  “To take me home. Our driver. He’s meeting me there. I couldn’t tell him to meet me here. Mummy and Daddy would have had an absolute freak if they knew I was here, with homosexuals.”

  “You are joking?”

  “About what?” He leant forward and grabbed my hand, placing it in his groin.

  “All of it. The driver, the homosexuals.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Come here. Let me have another snog. I love how I can feel your stubble as I kiss you.” He leant forward and kissed me again. That, combined with where my hand was, meant I forgot what my next questions would have been and just enjoyed the snog and grope.

  After a few moments during which the barman collected our glasses, asked us if we wanted anything else and if we knew this was a respectable family pub, I came up for air and asked him what he thought about college now.

  “It’s a bit too free.”

  This should be good. Despite his silver spoon in the mouth, somehow I felt myself drawn to him, those twinkly eyes, that floppy-curtains hair, the awkward clothes. He could be my very own little fix-me-up boyfriend project. It would be perfect.

  “What’s that mean, free?”

  “There’s no rules about things. You can wear what you want. Do whatever you like with your hair. We weren’t allowed facial hair at Bishop’s. No ear rings, tattoos. There were guidelines on how low your tie had to come down your shirt. Once, one of my friends was sent home because he was caught chewing gum in a lesson.”

  “He was sent home for that?”

  He nodded. “No chewing gum or bubble gum allowed on the premises.”

  “You’re adorable. Mum would love you.”

  “She knows?”

  “How could she not know? Even dogs know about me.”

  “And she’d be all right with you bringing a friend home?”

  “She’d be happy. She just wants to see me happy.”

  “There’s so much to think about, isn’t there? Telling parents and friends, will they be all right with it. Family, what about grandparents? How does that work? I think I need to come up with a plan or a list or a list and a plan maybe.” He brought the notebook out of his satchel.

  “Bless you. You’re making it so complicated. All that you need to work out is what you feel like. Are you or are you not into boys?”

  “I’m not a paedophile.”

  I huffed at myself. “I’ll rephrase—do you fancy men or women?”

  “I’d love to have a big wedding like my cousin. Marvellous big country wedding, big white dress and white Roller, stacks of flowers all over the place. The church was filled with them, it was like someone had ordered emergency flowers nine-nine-nine. I could hardly see the aisles of the church. They were festooned.”

  “Festooned, now there’s a very butch word to use.”

  “Oh, is it too gay, do you think?”

  “You can’t be too gay. You can’t be too butch. You just need to be yourself. Anyway, you didn’t answer the question I just asked. I’ll say it again, in simpler terms: when you wank, do you think about women or men?”

  He leant forward across the table, looked either side of him like we were in some detective film. “You know Take That?”

  “You’re not gonna tell me you rang the helpline after they split up? If you are, I think we’ll have to say goodbye now.”

  “It was sad, but not that sad. You know the one who left?”

  “Robbie Williams. I’m aware of his work, yes.”

  “I think about him.”

  I nodded slowly. This was progress. “And the short one.”

  “Mark Owen.”

  “What about lovely floppy-haired Mark?”

  He looked at the wall, and then whispered to me, “Together.”

  “Well, that’s it answered for you.” I shook his hand. “Welcome.” I shouted to the rest of the pub, “We’ve got a live one here. Really into Take That, and I do mean really.”

  “Ssshhh. Why did you do that?”

  I shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” I licked my lips. A plan had suddenly come to me. “Fancy a walk?”

  “As long as I’m back at the college in—” He looked at his watch. “—fifty minutes.”

  “Follow me.” I stood and beckoned him with my index finger, leaning forward and licking my lips. Now I knew he was interested and didn’t want to just talk about bucolic whatsit, I was going to go all out.

  WE ARRIVED AT the park opposite the college and walked to the side farthest from the road, past a few trees by the edge of the River Avon that runs through Salisbury.

  Tom sat on the bench, his arms crossed, staring out to the fields beyond the river. “I don’t have to be back just yet. No rush.”

  I sat next to him on the bench. “I know. I thought we could get to know each other a bit better.” Now it was me who lunged forward for a snog. I pushed his face towards mine with one hand and my other rested at the top of his thigh, circling around until I found what I was looking for, gently awakening inside his jeans.

  He pulled back from me.

  “What’s wrong? No one’s here. There’s trees all round. No one can see us.”

  “Are you sure? It seems a bit naughty.” He looked around, searching for people. There was no one about.

  “Isn’t that half the fun? Being a bit naughty. Isn’t that why you went to college and not the sixth form of Bishop’s Wordsworth?” I leant forward and resumed kissing him, this time harder, faster, my tongue exploring the whole of his mouth, all the while my hand, perched on him, now straining inside his jeans. I stroked him between my thumb and forefinger.

  He didn’t pull back this time. He pushed himself towards me, moving in time with my hand. I must’ve been doing something right. I continued kissing him, biting his neck, licking his jaw, and returning to his mouth, where he gently bit my bottom lip, sending a shiver through my body.

  I put his hand on my groin, placing his fingers in the right position to mirror what I was doing to him. His hand didn’t move, so I started to move it in time with me, pushing myself towards it. Still, his hand didn’t move. I ignored his useless hand and unzipped his jeans, reached inside through the flies, and grabbed him in one hand. He gasped as I took him hard in my hand and moved in time with his gentle thrusts.

  His hand remained still on my groin. I pushed it back. This time, he pulled it away completely, returning it to the bench.

  “Don’t stop.” His voice was raspy, constricted like he was squeezing each word out, gasping for breath.

  I undid his jeans button and pulled him from his underwear, knelt in front of him on the ground and took him in my mouth.

  He gasped as I enjoyed the feeling, the sounds he made as I knelt in front of him, pausing to look up at him as he stared down, his eyes wide and lips pressed together in pleasure. He nodded.

  I continued, using my hand to massage and stroke just like I’d read in those Cosmo and Mizz magazines I’d stolen from the doctor’s surgery the last few times I’d been with a cold.

  A few more quick movements and I felt him shuddering beneath me so I pulled away, remembering something Bruce had once told me about safe sex and swallowing. Tom narrowly missed my eye.

  I sat on the bench as he quickly pulled himself back into his underwear and did his jeans up. I leant across to kiss him, but he pulled his face away, leaving me just a cheek to peck.

  He said quickly and out of breath, “Is that the time? I really must get to college to meet the driver.”

  “Plenty of time yet. I thought you could give me a hand.” I looked at the groin of my jeans, straining against the denim.

  “Thanks awfully, but I really had better go.” He held his hand out for me to shake it.

  Is this a joke? I’ve just given him a blowjob and he wants to shake my hand?

  He stood, waved awkwardly, and then stumbled out the park towards the college, pausing to wave and thank me again. “Very nice, thank you most awfully. It was wonderful.”

  I sat on the bench, my legs stretched out in front of me, my jeans straining with unreleased tension, remembering what I’d just done, for the first time. Faced with going home and telling Mum about my evening, I did what any teenage boy would do. I checked for people, unzipped my jeans, and in a few quick flicks of my wrist, I relieved all the tension Tom hadn’t wanted to do earlier. Early days. I’ll have him on his knees soon. I was so pleased with my technique. And he’d said it was very nice. That was something, wasn’t it? For a first time of anything more than a wank, it had gone well, I thought.

  Chapter Eight

  AFTER BASKING IN my first blowjob experience during my date with Tom in the park, the next day as we were waiting to go to work, Tony and I were round his house, having a blow by blow—literally—review of the date with Tom.

  I’d gone through the bit in the Duke, what Tom had told me about himself and my idea, and was telling him about what had happened in the park. As I was talking about the blowjob, Tony’s mum walked in, all patchouli oil, beaded red-and-white kaftan, and wooden sandals.

  Without missing a beat, she said, “You need to give the balls a little squeeze or put them in your mouth too. Men love it. Trust me.”

  Tony shook his head. “Sorry for my mother. I used to be mortified, but now, I’m used to it. I am aware this is probably making you die, so thanks, Mum, we’re all right.”

  “Just one more thing, boys. If you really want to drive a man wild, when you’re down there, just take a finger and gently…”

  I had my hands over my ears by this point.

  Tony bundled her up and shuffled her out the room. He reappeared, brushing his hands theatrically. “We got time for a fag? Or we got to go?”

  I mopped my brow dramatically. “After that, I need one.”

  He threw me a cigarette, I lit mine, then he sparked up his. Plumes of smoke filled the kitchen. “One thing worries me about this. It’s not good. You all right me saying it?”

  “Is it why I did it? Is it why did I spoil an innocent English-lesson date by giving him a blowjob in the park?”

  “Well, there is that, yeah.” He waved the cigarette, indicating me to respond.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I was horny. He was cute. Do I need to go on?”

  Tony shrugged. “I’ve done a lot worse, on men a lot less cute, with no alcohol, so who am I to judge?” He pointed to his groin. “Sometimes it’s like he’s in charge and I’m just along for the ride.”

  We both nodded in complete understanding of what he meant.

  “Spill. What’s the other thing?”

  “He didn’t want to touch you. Just kissing and that’s it.”

  “Yep.”

  “And he didn’t want to kiss you after you’d done your work.”

  “It was hard work. I’m telling you. Now I know why it’s called a blowjob. I really put my back into it. My knees are still sore. Worth it, though, for the noises he made. No, he didn’t. And your point is?”

  “Did he hang about after, chatting, whatever?”

  “No, he ran off, waved, held out his hand for me to shake, and said it was very nice and thanked me most awfully.”

  Tony drew breath in over his teeth and shook his head.

  “What’s wrong? What did I do wrong?”

  “Too much, too soon. Classic closet case. He’s as gay as bunting. Loves it, but he’s not ready to admit to himself he’s gay. He won’t tell anyone. You won’t hear from him again. He’s the sort of man who goes cottaging.”

  I shook my head. Someone had once told me what it was, but it wasn’t for me, so I’d let it slip from my mind.

  “Having sex in public toilets. That Jo Orton used to do it all the time. If you fancy something interesting to read that’ll impress your English tutor and shock him, read that.”

  “You don’t think I’ll take him to meet Mum?”

  Tony shook his head slowly.

  “I’m never seeing his parents, am I?”

  “’Fraid not, love. ’Fraid not.”

  I hung my head. “What have I done? I am a total idiot.”

  Tony patted me on the back. “We really do have to leave now. I can’t be late now I’m a Senior FLM.”

  “You and your bloody Senior FLM. It’s FLM this, FLM that. You’d think you found a cure for cancer.”

  “Come on, get your stuff. We’re off. Look, worst that’ll happen you’ll never speak to him again. But at least you got a blowjob out of it.”

  “No, I gave him the blowjob.”

  “Nice cock?”

  “I’ve not much to compare, just the lad in the tent at Duke of Edinburgh, but yeah, I suppose it was.”

  “Well then. Be happy. Come on. Work.”

  And that, as they say, was that.

  Tony, as ever, was right about everything. Tom never spoke to me again. He never went in the same group as me in English lessons. He talked loudly about how he used to have loads of girlfriends before he came to college and that his parents had a family friend whose daughter they were setting him up with and would anyone like to see his new Mercedes A-Class.

  TONY AND HIS boyfriend’s relationship soon moved from face-sucking in the snacketeria to fucking in his bedroom when his parents were out.

  “You did it?” I asked Tony later that term, openmouthed over jacket potatoes in the snacketeria. “All. The. Way.”

  He shrugged, lit a cigarette, and blew the smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Mum and Dad were out. He said he wanted to, and I wanted to get it over and done with, get rid of this big deal people seem to make it, so I could get on with life.”

  “What was it like?”

  He flicked his fringe from his eye. “At first, it hurts. Then I got into it and it was nice. It was a different feeling, but I liked it. Like when you have a curry that’s a bit too hot for you. First few mouthfuls burn, but once you’re halfway through, you’re half enjoying the burning feeling and half used to it and it’s not burning much anyway.”

  I nodded.

  “That. Honestly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Some straight people are more obsessed with gay men’s bums than we are. It’s so boring, honestly. It’s just another thing to do in bed. But like a buffet, you mix it up. That’s what I said to him. I said don’t think it’s this every time. You don’t come to a buffet and only eat smoked salmon or bagels, do you? Even if you like smoked salmon and bagels, you’d still get some potatoes, a bit of salad, some ham, and cheese, wouldn’t you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Well then.” He took a drag on his cigarette and straightened his silver rings. “You mentioned a late birthday present?”

  I handed him a wrapped CD.

  He opened it and screamed, flicking his fringe from his eyes three times before it stayed put. “Octopus! How’d you know I hadn’t bought it yet? It’s been out ages.”

  He’d mentioned the new the Human League album to me before, but I knew he hadn’t bought it because otherwise he’d have given me a song-by-song critique, so I knew it would make a perfect birthday present.

  I shrugged. “Kev instinct?”

  He hugged me. “Do you want me to tape it for you?”

  “If you’ve got a tape. I can give you one.”

  He started loudly singing the chorus from one of the lead singles, “One Man in my Heart”, so I joined in doing the women’s vocals and he did the Phil Oakey bit. It seemed apt given his haircut.

  FOR THE REST of that year, I concentrated on college as well as I could and how it wasn’t only a place for me to learn. It was somewhere I could fully be who I’d always wanted to be, without most people caring at all. And I found that so refreshing, I soon forgot Tom and the blowjob-in-the-park incident as it became known.

  Chapter Nine

  1997

  When I turned seventeen, Mum’s and my little understanding about keeping the secret from Dad continued as it had before. Although I might have let myself slip a few times, not changing in time for when Dad came home from work or slipping something a bit too risqué into dinnertime conversation.

  I was ready to go to Out!—wearing just a casual combination of black jeans, black T-shirt, and black leather jacket with the slightest hint of white on my face and the merest suggestion of mascara and black eye shadow around my eyes. Standard Tuesday night really. Mum had offered to drop me there to save me the walk. I was still frantically saving every spare penny to buy a car, but the cost of driving lessons seemed to be eating up most of that each week.