RuKsaK

Kiss was a club which caved in, in 1988. Underground, badly-velveted with semi-circle booths, perfectly poorly-lit. A botulism food bar for intervals from the lunacy was clagged onto one end and the sealed-condom-shaped bar cut the place in two halves. Kiss was precisely Saturday night – unbearable sober. It’s where sex became immediate to me. Corner fingerings, drunken, failed assisted wanks, and more bits.

I describe it, because I don’t want you, the reader, to decorate it much. It’s gone now; it’s a car park and I don’t want anyone else’s nightclub memories molesting mine – this place is fucking sacred.
------
When Liz walked off the messy dance floor she clasped my hand and left a piece of chocolate there. She whispered loudly and obviously:
‘Get me a stick of rock with my name through it please.’

It was the most erotic conversation I’d ever had. I was just seventeen and the whole thing said:
‘RuKsaK – I’ll be taking that virginity of yours soon.’

After I gave the stick of rock, we had elicit, slobbery snogs near the toilets under the dull thump of New Order’s Blue Monday – a song long enough and distracting enough for everyone to give us good time together. She groped and I did, worrying it was alright – if she liked it. She was sixteen, very confident.

Round at Steadward’s house he’d contribute his glossed-black bedroom. She’d suck and swallow me and with Kraftwerk playing. She insisted on only all three every time – suck, swallow, Kraftwerk. Fine. Hers was the first mouth I ever came in.

After two weeks of this, pissed, through Duke’s Playing Fields, after Kiss had closed, we clambered up the gritty, knocked concrete blocks of the public grandstand. Liz lay down, sucked me a little, put me inside my first condom and took my virginity. It was my mother’s 39th birthday and for four minutes of it I was losing my virginity. No music.

Friends asked and I said:
‘I prefer blow jobs. I guess it’ll get better.’

After a week Liz dumped me. I was distraught seventeenly. I played Kraftwerk and cried. I made nanosecond resolves which popped and disappeared. I listened to all the music I liked convinced it had answers. It hadn’t – I was a poor fucker who’d lost his lost virginity.

I had no idea what she was doing.
------
Click here for part 2.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Liz – part 1