Trainspotting - Irvine Welsh [95]
Ah keep driftin oaf intae a delirious sleep, and waking with a start, ma head jerking back like it’s gaunnae snap oaf ma shoodirs.
Out ay the corner ay ma eye, ah see a guy movin seats tae sit next tae us. He puts his hand oan ma thigh. Ah pull his hand oaf.
— Git tae fuck. You wantin yir heid n hands tae play wi, ya cunt?
— Sorry. Sorry, he sais in a European accent. He’s an auld cunt n aw. He sounds really pathetic, n he’s goat a wizened wee face. Ah actually start feelin sorry fir um.
— Ah’m no a buftie pal, ah tell um. He looks confused. — No homosexual, ah point at masel, feeling vaguely ridiculous. What a fuckin daft thing tae say.
— Sorry. Sorry.
This sortay gits us thinkin. How the fuck dae ah ken ah’m no a homosexual if ah’ve nivir been wi another guy? Ah mean, really fir sure? Ah’ve always hud a notion tae go aw the wey wi another guy, tae see what it wis like. Ah mean, yuv goat tae try everything once. Huvin said that, ah’d huvtae be in the drivin seat. Ah couldnae handle some cunt’s knob up ma erse. One time ah picked up this gorgeous young queen in the London Apprentice. Ah tookumback tae the auld gaff in Poplar. Tony n Caroline came in n caught us giein the boy a gam. It wis a total embarrassment. Giein a guy whae wis wearin a condom a blow-job. It wis like sucking a plastic dildo. Ah wis bored tae fuck, bit the boy hud sucked me oaf first so ah felt ah hud tae reciprocate. It wis a good blow-job he gave, technically speaking. However, ah hud kept gaun soft n collapsing wi laughter at the expression oan his face. He looked like this lassie ah used tae fancy ages ago, so wi a bit ay imagination and concentration ah managed, tae ma surprise, tae shoot ma load intae the rubber.
Ah took a real slaggin fae Tony fir this episode, but Caroline thought that it wis cool, n confessed tae us this she wis as jealous as fuck. She thought the guy wis a honey.
Anywey, ah widnae mind gaun aw the wey wi a gadge, if it felt right. Jist fir the experience. Problem is, ah only really fancy birds. Guys jist dinnae look sexy. It’s aw aboot aesthetics, fuck all tae dae wi morality.
The auld cunt disnae exactly look like he’d be high oan the list ay candidates tae lose yir homosexual virginity tae. He tells us though, thit he’s goat a place up in Stoke Newington n asks us if ah’d like tae crash the night. Well, Stokie’s no far fae Mel’s bit at Dalston, so ah thoat: Fuck it.
The auld cunt’s Italian, n he’s called Gi, short fir Giovanni, ah’d imagine. He tells us that he’s workin in a restaurant and that he’s goat a wife n bairns back in Italy. Ah git a feelin thit this disnae quite ring true. One ay the great things aboot bein intae junk is thit ye come across loads ay liars. Ye develop a certain expertise in that area yirsel, and a keen nose for the bullshit.
Wi git a night bus up tae Stokie fi Victoria. Thirs loads ay young punters oan the bus; stoned, pished, gaun tae perties, comin fae perties. Ah wished tae fuck that ah wis in one ay they squads instead ay wi this auld cunt. Still.
Gi’s basement flat is somewhair oafay Church Street. Ah’m loast eftir that, but ah ken thit wir no as far in as Newington Green. It’s extremely fuckin dingy inside. Thir’s an auld sideboard, a chest ay drawers and a big, brass bed in the middle ay this musty smelling room, which has a kitchen and toilet off it.
Given ma previous vibe aboot this cunt, ah’m surprised tae see pictures ay a woman n bairns aw ower the place.
— Yir family mate?
— Yes, this is my family. Soon they will be joining me.
This still didnae sound plausible tae me. Perhaps ah’ve become that used tae lies, thit the truth sounds indecently false. But still.
— Must miss thum.
— Yes. Oh yes, he goes, then he sais — Lie down on the bed my friend. You can sleep. I like you. You can stay for a while.
Ah gie