Saturday, 24 December 2011

Flaps

The young raver texted me yesterday evening to tell me that my friend-who-is-a-teacher was holding a Christmas dinner that evening, and if I was coming, could I bring crisps? I was rocking Zelda old-skool at the time, but I replied that of course I would, and why hadn't anyone told me earlier? Anyway, I went along and helped said friend-who-is-a-teacher, along with the young raver and another, younger, prettier friend, to set up. We ate the crisps in record time, and eventually Mane and his younger brother showed up and we could get started on the nut roast and masses of potatoes.

We didn't make it through all the potatoes.

"What does age before beauty mean?" asked the friend I have yet to name. "When someone says it, are they calling me ugly, or old?"
"Both," said the friend-who-is-a-teacher.
"I always say ladies first," quipped the young raver, "before I add, 'and men just before'!"

There was a general ripple of something close to, but not actually amounting to, a laugh.

"What's that?" asked Mane's younger brother.
"He's thinking he cleverly puts men before women," someone explained. "It's a bit like a joke, only not that funny."
"Ah!" I piped up. "What I thought was that he was talking about who orgasms during sex! Ladies always orgasm first, because men can't hold it in before they start? Or something like that?"

There was another ripple.

"It's not my usual topic of conversation," chipped in the friend-who-is-a-teacher, "orgasms around the dinner table."
"It's a pleasant subject," I pointed out.
"Haaaaark," said the young raver, as something stuck in his throat and he struggled to breathe.
"You sound just like your mum when she's giving me a blowjob," said Mane's younger brother.

Yes, he actually said that. That's the sort of conversation my friends have.

While the young raver extricated whatever it is he had inhaled, the table wobbled dangerously, both sides threatening to break through the thin wooden slats holding them up.
"Oh, my flaps are weak," said the friend-who-is-a-teacher, poker-faced, causing the unnamed friend to snort into her glass of rosé.
"What?" said all the boys.
"Just taking about my flaps, as I tend to do," she laughed.

I've always known my friends were dirty. But it took one comment from me to set the tone for the evening.

2 comments:

Catharine said...

you are worse than your friends! I am shocked!

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