Chapter 34
The room facilities consist of a small travel kettle that holds just enough water to fill the two matching thimble-size cups that sit on saucers next to it, and a hair dryer that hangs from a cradle next to a mirror on the wall.
Olly has already pointed out that you’d get a bigger breeze from a fart.
We’ve been in the room for thirty minutes and fell straight onto the bed as soon as we closed the door.
I’ve been laying with my head on Olly’s chest ever since.
He strokes my hair. ‘What would you like to do whilst we’re here?’
‘Mini doughnuts?’
‘They’re the greatest delicacy in the world. They’ve got to be fresh, and warm. You’re not allowed to lick the sugar off your lips until you’ve finished them all.’
‘You’re easily pleased.’ He kisses my head.
‘I’ve been known to leave a 2p machine bankrupt. What do you fancy doing?’
‘I’m happy to go along with your itinerary.
I need to get some rock for Otto. He’d kill me if I’d been to Blackpool and didn’t get him any.
We used to come here at the start of every season when the Pleasure Beach was half price.
He’d drag me on all the rollercoasters, he’s got no fear.
’ Olly smiles at the memory. ‘One year we came and the Big One was closed, it had malfunctioned, people were stuck at the top of the big drop. They had to walk down the safety steps in the wind.’
I lift my head, wiggle up so I’m level with Olly and playfully pinch his nipple. ‘I’d shit myself, have you seen how high it is?’
‘What do you fancy doing first?’ he says.
‘How about finding a strong, dominant man to show me a good time?’
‘You don’t need to find anyone else, there’s one right here.’ He pats the bed.
‘Prove it.’
And he does, for the next forty-five minutes.
He pulls my clothes off and pays attention to every part of my body.
It’s sensual. We’ve got all the time in the world.
He’s slow too when he’s inside me, taking his time for us both to connect and feel each other.
This isn’t shagging. This is sort of sex you have when you really like someone, when you get enjoyment out of seeing the other person enjoy themselves. He’s considerate, attentive, loving.
The Irish Sea is blowing a gale up the promenade.
We take shelter in an arcade. I change a five-pound note into pound coins then exchange a quid into 2ps.
I feed the tipping machine with my copper, receiving a limited return on my investment.
I exchange another pound coin, then another, then another.
There’s a science to the 2p machine, you’ve got to wait until the moving ledge begins to move out from the back before you drop your shrapnel or you risk doubling up the pennies.
The machine spits out yellow tickets. Olly is doing the same on the machine next to me, he’s having more success. I’ve sneaked a peep at the token exchange, I’ve got my eye on a garden gnome flashing his arse. Soumia will love it.
‘How good are your shooting skills?’ Olly’s leading me towards an arcade game called Zombie Killers.
There’s a booth with a huge tv screen with Zombies running towards you. Two guns sit in a bracket above a couple of low stools. We take a gun each. Olly inserts two pound coins and selects a two-player game.
‘Prepared to get whipped,’ he says.
We’re both shooting like cowboys at the screen. The competition is on. I’ve missed every shot so far; I can see Olly’s points racking up on the screen. I’m tempted to shove him out the way to take victory.
‘You suck at this,’ he says, taking aim at a Zombie and blowing its head off.
‘You must be cheating,’ I nudge him to try and distract him, it doesn’t work.
Olly wins.
‘I’d be the first one to die in a zombie apocalypse,’ I say in gracious defeat.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll save you.’ Olly gives me a cute squeeze.
‘Cringe.’ I smirk, absolutely loving it. ‘Here, have my winnings.’
The machine has awarded me a measly number of yellow tokens compared to Olly’s lottery win. I break them from the dispenser and hand them to him. He takes them just a little too quickly.
‘Are you sure?’
He doesn’t wait for my response, he’s already on his way to the prize booth to claim his winnings.
I follow. ‘Look at you, you’re like a big kid.’
Soft toys and china ornaments hang from the booth, items that can only be described as tat.
Even the marbles have a ridiculous token exchange rate; we’d have to be here all week to come close to getting enough to get the gnome or anything half decent.
Olly settles on a rubber duck that’s wearing a cap and gown and a t-shirt that says Kiss me Quick.
It’s far too small for either of us but it’s pure Blackpool tat, I love it.
‘That duck’s cost you the best part of a tenner,’ I say. ‘You could have just got it from the pound shop.’
‘That’s not the point. We’ve earned this duck through hard work.’ He holds the t-shirt up to me. It’s pink with black writing and has a huge glittery pair of silver lips. ‘It suits you.’
‘You pillock, I’d have to lose five stone to even get half an arm in it.’
‘What shall we do next?’
‘Doughnuts.’
We make our way to the front of the arcade, which has a small take-away selling all things sugar related: ice cream, candyfloss, rock, sugar dummies, slush puppies, and mini doughnuts. The smell of frying oil and batter makes my mouth water as I prepare to feast on six savoury rings.
We grab the paper bag from the assistant and cross over the road to sit on a bench inside a tram stop, taking shelter from the gale force wind. We watch the Irish Sea punch the steps that lead to the beach when the tide is out.
‘Remember, you’re not allowed to lick your lips.’ I hold the bag open; it’s been warmed by the freshly fried batter.
‘Easy.’ He opens his mouth wide and shoves a doughnut in whole. Not a single grain of sugar escapes.
‘Impressive.’ I choose to take small bites out of mine. I don’t do half as good a job, the white granules form a small coating over my lips, I’m desperate to lick them.
‘Massive fail,’ Olly says taking one more. As he brings the doughnut to his mouth I nudge his hand, he smears sugar across his nose and cheek. ‘Oh, I’m going to get you for that.’
‘No, don’t, please.’
We’re both laughing as Olly jumps up, straddles me on the bench, traps my arms, then rubs a doughnut all over my face. I’m a sugary mess.
‘Who’s the boss?’ Olly teases.
‘Olly’s the boss, Olly’s the boss!’ I’m such a wimp.
We’re both giggling like school kids. He grabs my head and starts to lick the sugar off my face.
‘Yuk.’ I try to wiggle out of his hold, but he’s got me tight.
Olly finishes drooling all over me with a big kiss on the lips. We’re both smiling as he pulls away. There’s this surreal moment where I feel like I’ve known him all my life, yet at the same time, I feel I’m going to know him forever more. I can see he senses it to.
He unpins me. ‘Come on, let’s get you a brew. You’ve not had one all day, you must be having withdrawals.’
I don’t think he can get any more perfect.
We walk back in the general direction of the B&B, rubber duck securely in my coat pocket, protected from the elements. Olly’s holding my hand. I’ve always been too afraid to hold a man’s hand in public. His confidence is rubbing off on me.
‘Thank you.’ I say to him.
‘What for?’
‘It’s been a pretty good day.’ I avoid some dog shit on the floor.
‘Just pretty good? What would your perfect day be then?’
‘Hmmmm. A walk somewhere new to explore, some really good food, Mexican, then see a show.’
‘Any particular show?’
‘Wicked. I haven’t seen it yet. I have this silly thing where I only want to watch it on Broadway. I’ve no idea why. What about you, what’s your perfect day?’
‘I’d start the morning off with a quick shag with a handsome guy in Blackpool, then I’d spend loads of money trying to win a rubber duck I don’t need and pig out on some doughnuts.’
‘But what comes next?’ I ask.
‘Karaoke?’
‘At this time in the afternoon?’
‘I bet you could do a good impression of Freddie.’ Olly’s now walking backwards to see my reaction as he teases me.
‘Freddie?’
‘Mercury. I can see you singing I Want to Break Free. You’d look good in heels.’
‘You will never get me up singing.’ I’m sure I can feel my face coming out in hives at the thought of it.
‘My favourite man singing my favourite song.’
‘It’s never going to happen.’
‘Not even for me?’
‘Not even to sing backing vocals for Sugababes at Glastonbury. I’d rather turn straight.’