Dude Looks Like a Lady

We broke apart, breathless and embarrassed. I look up at Mikey’s face and see his blush. I hand him his boxers.

“You might want to put these on.” He nods, and pulls them on. He takes the zip to my jacket, which was up by my neck and pulls it down. He then pushes the jacket off my shoulders, down to my elbows, down to my wrists and down to the floor. He crouches on the floor and begins un – lacing my Docs, and removing them from my feet.

He takes my hand and leads me through to the lounge. He sits at one end of the sofa, and I sit at the other. We sit in silence, each regarding the other. Too scared to break the silence. The oppressive silence that was suffocating me. Pulling on my vocal chords and snapping them. Severing them so only my body language could pass on the vital information I needed Mikey to know.

“What do you think to us pretending that we’re just friends for a bit? Removing our rings and getting to know each other?” Mikey suggests, breaking the silence with a cracking voice.

I consider the point, my head cocked to one side. I nod slowly, “Once we’re on tour, maybe. It sounds good.”

He smiles, gently, “I was so worried you’d blow up at me.” He tells me, reaching for a hand. I place my small hand in his own and smile at him. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

I laugh and nod, crossing my legs. I close my eyes and swallow, sorting my thoughts. “I was born Louisa Joan Smith. A nice plain name. I was born on Midsummer day after forty – eight hours of labour for my Mum. I’m of European heritage.” I pause and think of other things to say, “Oh, yeah, I’m twenty four.”

“You’re three years younger than me?!” Mikey shrieks. I nod, blushing. He leans forward and kisses me, “I should have been easier on you – sorry.”

I laugh, “I’m quite a tough little thing.” I tell him, kissing him softly. “So yeah, I was born in nineteen eighty – three. Uhm, I love riding horses, kick boxing, normal boxing, Karley, driving horses, motorbike racing, archery and gun shooting. I don’t like spiders, and I’m not keen on slugs. I enjoy cooking and cleaning. I find large crowds scary and I scrub up well. I have a degree in Mixed Modern Languages, and PA qualifications. I went to finishing school, but I much prefer the company of men and the aura of a pub. I love Indian food, but I don’t like very spicy food. I’m a fan of sushi and coffee – but I’m not as bad as you. I only smoke when I’m stressed or upset. My vices are a typical red headed temper, an acidic tongue and an English sense of humour. I’m perverse, I’m blunt and I run away from things that scare me. I’ve seen death and life, and I’m not afraid of either. I have two tattoos – a hung heart over my heart and a broken heart, stuck together with tape with the words, “Our Used Romance” written in italics beneath it. I have three piercings in each ear, a nose piercing and a tongue piercing. I’m not afraid of needles, which is kind of obvious. I like pain and I like inducing pain on people.” Mikey chuckles as I say this. My eyes drift over his body, and I can see the tell tale marks of my mouth and nails. “I lived on a farm for most of my life, so I like animals and I enjoy being with them. I’ve had to fix many a car, so I’m quite good at mechanics. I’m used to having animals in the strangest of places – such as my bed. Half the time I prefer animals to people. I love my parents dearly and they brought me up to care for others over myself. I’m bi. I have a half sister – my Mum remarried. My sister and I get on with each other better if we’re miles apart. My Dad was in hospital a good few times, but he taught me to enjoy the finer points in life, such as a good beer. I’m not a very social person, but my nearest and dearest are the people I would kill for. If you get me on a good day I can be as charming as you like, but on a bad day stay away. I’m practically impossible to live with, and I dislike silences.” I pause and think, cocking my head to the side, “I don’t think there’s anything else.” I pause, “Oh, wait. I love rock music. Mainly old – school, but I have a love for all things different and alternative.” I cough, and clear my throat, “Your turn.” I whisper.

Mikey nods and heads into the kitchen. I frown and turn to face the kitchen, he returns and hands me some water. “Drink. Your throat will feel better then.” I nod and gratefully drink from it. “I’m gonna ask you some questions, now.”

I laugh, “You make it sounds like a therapy session.”

“You sound like you know about them?”

“I do.” I pause, “I scared all of the ones I had off.”

His mouth drops, “Really?”

“I told you – I have anger management problems!”

He laughs, “Ok, favourite colour?”

I consider it, “I don’t think I have one. I’m not a very favourite person.”

He looks slightly confused, but nods, “Favourite food?”

“Indian curry. Chicken Tikka Masala.” I tell him, without hesitance.

“Favourite drink?”

“Time of day?” He looks confused, “Depending on the time and type of day it changes. I mean, think about it being mid – day on the coldest day of the year. You wouldn’t want an ice cold beer would you? But Midsummer Day? There’s nothing better.”

He nods, “So you don’t have a favourite?”

I shrug, “I think frappacino’s can be drunk whenever.”

He laughs, “Favourite person?”

I look confused and think for about ten minutes, “I don’t think I have one.” I tell him slowly, “I mean, I have people I admire, but still..”

He nods “Favourite season?”

“Summer.”

He laughs. “Ok – that’s all I can think of at the moment. No. Wait – favourite band?”

“Uhm, based on the people – The Used. Based on the music? The Used.” His jaw drops in shock.

“What about my band?”

“I don’t know anyone from your band but you and Frank. And The Used just blow you lot away musically, sorry.”

He pouts, “We’ll have to change that, won’t we?” He launches himself at me and starts tickling me, crowing, “Who’s your favourite band?”