Workman: Chapter Four - Part Three

3 

I had a shower and got changed into the new blue shirt I’d bought that morning. There was some hair cream in the bathroom cabinet (which surprised me). I roughed some into my hair then stroked the thick stubble on my face, wondering if I should shave. I was a little nervous about doing it so I didn’t bother for now. There was only my dad’s shaving equipment there anyway and it felt odd to consider using that.

I took another beer with me out onto the front and sat on the steps waiting for John to emerge as agreed. I was half way down the can when he did.

“Hey! You ready?” said John.

“Sure. Let’s get down there. We walking?”

“Nah. Debbie’s going to drop us.” She appeared in the doorway clutching an overlarge bunch of keys.  John gestured to his car. “Might make a nice change for you driving in a proper grown up’s car.”

I chuckled, glancing at the over-girly vehicle on my drive. “Laugh it up. That Tonka Toy is on its way out if I have anything to say about it. It’s embarrassing.”

“You said it. I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“Hiya Geoff,” said Debbie, climbing into the driver’s seat. John got in the front and I climbed into the back.

“Hey sweetheart. Have you decided to dump this loser and run away with me yet?”

She laughed. “After your sexist comments last night? No way!”

“That wasn’t sexist. It was masterful. There’s a difference.”

She pulled out giggling and ran us down to the back of the Hunter’s Moon as we chatted amiably, mostly batting banter back and forth. John gave her a kiss before he climbed out after me.

“That’s your last one for tonight,” she said. “Don’t come home talking about conjugal rights unless you’ve had a couple of breath mints.”

We went inside.

The sports bar side was pretty spacious but was already filled up with punters. There was a gigantic TV mounted high up on the wall and the game preliminaries were already underway.

“I’ll get the first round in,” I said.

“Fosters. Pint of. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

John found his mates and I took in the atmosphere as I waited to be served. I’d never watched a sporting event in my life before but there was a really festive buzz in the air; a build-up of excitement. But it was more than that. There were groups of blokes mostly (just a few women), and the traditional barriers didn’t seem to be there at all. Ordinarily each group would have been tucked away in their own invisible bubble of exclusion. Not now.  Each group seemed connected to the next by the potential of this shared experience. It was great – really relaxing.

I got the beers and carried them over then went back for a couple more for John’s friends. I couldn’t really afford it but what the heck. If he was paying me for the plastering the following day then cash flow wouldn’t be a problem for a little while.

They were a welcoming bunch and as the game began I settled into the camaraderie comfortably.

It was no weirder than anything else over the last couple of days, but still, stepping out of myself for a second, it was hard to believe I was fitting into this group of rowdy blokes so quickly and seamlessly. Where was the delicate wilting flower who normally took weeks to feel comfortable with a new group of people? Five minutes in and I was already laughing and shouting with the rest of them, totally at ease. It was great! I’d always wished I could be more outgoing and here was the proof that I would have been happier if I was. I’d been back in Nockton Vale for weeks but I’d more mates in the last twenty four hours as a bloke than I had over the entire rest of the time I’d been there as a bird.

The match was an early game in the Six Nations rugby tournament. This one was England versus France so there was an extra bite of patriotic verve, generally comprising chants of “Kill the frogs! Kill the frogs!” and other, less politically correct cries. I’d always kind of looked down on nationalism of any form but surrounded by this energized fervour I could totally see the attraction now.

Third pint down and we were having a whale of a time, yelling and pointing at the screen, half standing when it looked like someone was going to score a try; sinking back down in disappointment and leaping up with a roar of triumph when it finally happened.

It was awesome!

I went for a whizz when there was a break in the action, enjoying the relaxation of slumping against the tiled wall above the urinal as the piss streamed out of me. I was really nicely tipsy; really enjoying myself; really glad I’d put the ring back on. Now I was Geoff again I could hardly understand why I’d been reticent to put it back on. I was just having a really cool evening. Where was the harm in that?

I gave my hands a cursory wash, came out wiping them on my jeans and walked straight into Sangeeta.

We both gaped at one another in surprise, then her Cheshire cat smile spread across her lips and a grin broke out on mine too.

“Hey big boy,” she said. “I was hoping I might run into you here.” She gave me an appraising up and down glance. “Nice shirt.” She touched the front, grazing my stomach through the cloth and making my cock jerk instantly in response. “Blue suits you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well every colour must suit you,” I said. “You look gorgeous.”

She grinned at me and I smiled back. “How do you fancy joining us?” I said. I pointed. “We’re watching the game over there.”

She slipped her arm round the small of my back. “Lead the way.”