What a rebellious teen I was, sneaking out past Dad’s music room. I text Casey telling her I was leaving. The good thing about having a nice house, in a nice area, with a nice family, and a nice garden was that it had innumerable nice escape routes. At the bottom of the stairs into a floral hall, through an outhouse, through a door into the garage, through a window in to the next door neighbour’s front garden, gleefully rebelliously sprinting over his wall and down the street towards the woods bordering my estate. There was a refreshing chill on the air, accompanying the lowering sun as it glinted off the studs of my ‘Dog Collar’ bracelet. I used to enjoy the sky at this time of day. The dying crimson and claret splashes, mingling with the ever approaching purple and blinking greens of encroaching twilight made the world look serenely ethereal. Having jumped ship, and hurtled away from prison I was strangely serendipitous, iconoclastically sporting my white DOF t-shirt, my black and red killer jeans and black trainers. I was also hyped that Casey was meeting me in the woods before we went to the Rally. Casey was one stunning girl, tight buttocks, long legs, red and purple hair, and well-formed breasts for a girl of her age, and the master of the killer blowjob.
Crude I know, but with little to no personality, and being fifteen years old there is little else you look for in a bird. That term amuses me now; I remember Toni saying to me once “You know why women are called Birds don’t you? It’s because of all the worms that they pick up.” I hated her back then, the dirty fucking slag that she was. I never could accept Toni as my mum, never would I ever call her that, and never would I treat her as one. I lived with my Dad and his bitch, and that is all that mattered.
But Casey was the trophy girlfriend for the local badass. In the open arms of Lewis, king of the DOF, nobody fucked with me. I was his acolyte, his bad boy prodigy. I never acknowledged the fact it was all about my father, I was deluded enough to believe that he saw the future in me. Casey clung to me like a curry shit to the hairs on my arse back then, because everyone believed I was somebody, and the good thing about Casey, is that she was free and fucking easy. That is why she was meeting me at the woods; we were going to fuck before we went to Lewis. I needed a good hard bit of carnal exercise after the day I had been having, so even I didn’t give a fuck, Casey would.
She was sat waiting for me on the low pointless fences that are dotted all over Corby. The ones that stand about two foot off the ground are essentially long cuboids of wood strapped to short stumpy posts by a thin bent piece of metal. I never worked out what they were for, they served as nothing more than long uncomfortable stools to sit and smoke cigarettes, drink cheap cider and swear at other teenagers as they skirted by.
“Hey Stunner you game?” She looked absolutely smoking, in ripped jeans and a tight DOF t-shirt accentuating her ample bosoms. Around her neck sat purple beads, each with a small cross shaped insignia carved into the wood. As always she applied the makeup heavily. She had taken to this ever since that fucknut of a step dad had started wailing into her when he was wrecked every weekend. The beauty of science, creating powders that cover a multitude of sins.
“Babe, it’s been a grim day, one thing after another, I intend to get on it. Are you game?” I hooked my arms around her slim waist and pulled her into me for a long invasive kiss. She had been chewing gum to freshen her breath, I could taste the cold mint on her tongue. After the slurping and sucking was done we disappeared into the woods for that much needed fuck. Ten minutes, over, done and on our way to see Lewis. The sex wasn’t as gratifying as I hoped, the silly bitch decided to tell me she loved me mid-stroke and wrong footed me, still a shags a shag right?
Laughing giddily we skipped hand in hands, pulling dead leaves from out of each other’s underwear, and rubbing it in each other’s faces for a laugh. Such mature humour I know, but I was fifteen and I knew no better, and Casey understood the joke. She understood me. I remember thinking that she’d probably get it one more time that night before I snuck back in the house to face the wrath of my pussy Father and his wench. But until then I got to play with big boys, me and Casey stacking it up with the DOF. Lewis wants us, then it must be something big and that I was ready for. I hadn’t taken kindly to the fact that I had to sit on the sidelines. I had always blamed my father for that too; it was common knowledge that my holy-to-god father had altercations with Lewis, and every single time had his intelligence and his stance belittled. Not that you could ever get my father’s opinion on this. If you ever broached the subject of the DOF and how my daddy had tried and failed numerous times to knock them off the pedestal from which they stood, my father would shake his head and change the subject.
I always thought it was thorough shame that Dad never mentioned his run ins with the DOF. But now I know that it was because he was smart. My father was smart enough to let me make my own decisions and mistakes, he knew that I could not be taught didactically. He knew I wouldn’t listen. He knew me. Better than I knew me.
Lewis also knew me. He knew I would come running at his beck and call like a slavering Labrador wanting treats and petting. He knew I would roll over and let him rub my tummy. This is where I was going, and if I knew everything in my teenage arrogance, then this frolicking journey with the delicious Casey and all its idle chatter would have taken a darker, denser, direr undertone. I never felt even the slightest moment of trepidation as I reached the fences of Lewis’ recently bought factory. I could hear the music of the local punk band reverberating through the corrugated walls, accompanied by the chanting and screaming of the enraptured audience sweating feverishly underneath the hot lights.
The factory was an ironic choice; it had once served as a munitions factory for the MOD of a previous conservative government. Lewis had always hated the conservatives, and was glad when they were elected out in the last term; in celebration he bought this factory for the entertainment of his acolytes and disciples, filling it with an immense ten thousand watt rig, garish lights and a private bar, all for members of the DOF. It was a good call, with his party ever on the rise, regionally and nationally, the money was buying many of these factories all over the country. Politics and entertainment were merging, creating popularity, and amidst the drugs, the booze, the women, the music a political message was force-fed to the masses, subliminally and directly into their opening minds. Lewis knew everyone.
I never needed to provide my DOF identification card anymore, they all knew me, this sort of recognition would make any angst ridden teenager come back. Imagine a thousand enthusiastic greetings every time you walked into a room. The overwhelming sense that a party is not complete unless you attend, and once you are there, everyone is smiling, everyone wants a piece of you. Recognition is power, recognition is an elixir, recognition makes you ten feet tall and bulletproof. Tonight was no exception. As Casey clung to me like a mother would cling to her daughter hanging off a cliff; that desperate clutch of a woman who cannot let go what is in her hands, I returned a myriad collection of nods and shouted greetings. I circled the crowd in the main hall of the factory as the punk band ramped up for another shouty rendition of whatever shouty original they had prepared. I hated this music, I loved the atmosphere. I eventually reached the stairs up toward Lewis’ office. Casey let me go briefly to walk behind me on the narrow stone hill before putting one hand on my waist, lest I forget that the silly bitch is there. I could hear the ranting through the door, Lewis was fizzing and popping at whoever he was accompanied by. I took a long deep breath before knocking the door and waiting for acknowledgement.