NOT MAD-BAD

That lovely victorious feeling I had last
night? Gone, vanished, extinguished
watever! I've had a bit of a blip on the
old celibacy front, nothing too heavy
just a bit of fun with DC Straw. Really
it was nothing, I keep saying this to
convince myself.
Had a phone call from Julie, the girl
who lives in the flat below me.
"Hi Becka, it's Jules! Look I thought you
ought to know I've just heard a massive
thud from upstairs, I've called the police."
"Shit! Oh thanks Jules be right over."
I phoned DC Straw on route, I shivered and
shook all the way there. Really I should have
called a cab, I was in danger of getting killed.
When I reached my flat Mickey, Jules and Sister-
thing were waiting. I guessed Mickey had phoned
Raine, she looked strained and her hair was wet
from the shower (or just wet!)
Jules as always was wearing PJ's,
in my head I always saw her this way.
"I gave Mickey the spare key, it's really not pretty
but not as bad as you would think." Warned Raine.
"It's grim though love." Said Mickey.
Somebody had poured red paint through my letter
box then scrawled 'Homewrecker' in mad writing, with
a final flourish (I assume) they had dashed the whole
paint tin violently at the wall. This was what Julie had
heard.
"I'll go in then if your alright." She said.
"Thanks again Jules, your a star."
"No problem at all." She beamed.
Sister-thing Raine made me a cup of coffee with copious
amounts of brandy in it. I gave her the keys to the new
Vespa.
"Your'd better take this home I'm much too shaken to
drive."
"I can't! I have my car with Stupidog in it. Sorry."
She made a rueful face.
"Piss off then." I offered.
"Alright!" Off she went not at all offended.
"Mickey this is not good!" I started to sob, I think
a lot of my emotion problems are probably down
to drink and tiredness, but having a mad 'postie'
never helped anyone.
"Give me the keys, I'll drive you back to Alan's."
Oh yeah I had long forgotten that Mickey had been
a Mod. It felt strange to be clinging on to him, really
like old times. Happy times.
This was how I ended up in bed with him again.
We kissed and touched, but when the gig was up
neither of us wanted to take it any further.
"I love Alan." There it was said.
"I love my wife! I fancy you rotten Becka Martin,
always have always will, when your 70 with
a blue rinse and blinding white dentures, I'll chase
you around on my mobility scooter!"
We slept together like happy children. I felt guilty,
but hey it was only kissing (and touching).
If only we had risen earlier, Pru got in again!
I was making tea and toast when she entered the
kitchen.
"Hey!" I said in shock:"You gave me the keys back,
how did you get in?"
"Alan gave me two sets, you didn't ask for them both
back did you?" She feined innocence and grinned
at me. I was about to throw her out when Mickey
came straight into the kitchen, wrapped in a towel,
all crumpled and gorgeous with sleep.
"I see!" Said Pru and her lip pursed in distaste.
"It's not what you think!" I said frantically. "Mickey!
Say something! This is Alan's ex-wife, she thinks we've,
you know, shagged or something!"
He was still dozy, I suppose because he said:" Only a
kiss or two, nothing too heavy, after all she is my sister."
Pru looked away in disgust.
"No! He's joking!" But she slammed the door as she
left.
"Thanks a bunch!"
"Sorry." He sipped his tea.
No I'm the one who is sorry.
Becka