Something Beginning With

When I was at school, I played netball with a girl called Susan Armstrong. One day she was just standing on the court itching her head and daydreaming. When the ball suddenly came towards her, she put her hands up in a panic to catch it, but she was still holding on to her hair and she yanked out the whole handful. It never grew back. The skin underneath was tighter and shinier than her face. It was like looking at the moon. She couldn’t have minded because she used to show it to everyone.

Mind you, she was a bit of an exhibitionist. When she left school, she went to work in a fish and chip shop and had to wear a little hat over her head. Maybe it was because she couldn’t let us see her bald patch any more that she would let us smell her arm. It was as if the oil and vinegar from all those fish suppers had soaked into her skin. I used to love smelling Susan’s arm, but one day when there was no one else around I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward and licking her. Not hard. My tongue didn’t actually reach the flesh, it just brushed the hairs on her arm backwards and forwards. I could almost feel each grain of salt in my mouth.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.