Wednesday, 30 September 2015

Mouth

"Item three on the agenda - er... no item three?"
"Who wrote that?"

Everyone looked at me. As the secretary, I had - of course - written that. Incredibly pleased with myself, I smirked and attempted a whistle. I've always found it difficult to whistle, so all I ended up with was a "shh" sound. Not as convincing.

"Item four. Fresher's Week next year. Who's still here?"

I didn't raise my hand. A few people did - those of us who were staying on for MAs or who hadn't finished their degree courses yet. I made a quick Zsasz-like tally on my notes and joined in the general banter that followed, which quickly degenerated into mocking the habit my university had of putting strange nicknames onto the back of fresher representatives' T-shirts - ranging from WOT-WOT! (for a posh girl) to GIANT (for a sexual boy) to PLAYMATE (for the least original girl in the world) to CAT (not a cat). Being a fresher rep never appealed to me, and we assumed that - although our society appeared to be providing most of the entertainment - none of us would take up that mantle.

"Oh... I may be a fresher rep next year," chirped the small blonde girl who played the piano. "So I'm not sure if I'm going to... why are you all looking at me like that?"

I held my pen at the ready.

"What's your name going to be?"
"Er... MOUTH?" she suggested.
"MOUTH?!"
"It's what my friends call me..."

"None of us call you MOUTH," I pointed out.
"To be fair, you didn't ask."
"Good point," I said, adding that to the minutes and then sketching a bass clef.

*

I got home after the meeting and the post-meeting drinks, threw my bag of percussion (with a sonorous crash) into the corner and logged onto my computer in order to write up the minutes. However, just before I did so, I decided to check out MySpace (yes, really, that's how long ago this was) and, among the assorted friends and people-I'd-added-just-because, I noticed "Mouth" popping up. I'd never actually been to her page. I clicked.

There was a link to one of those quizzes. Click.

Do your parents know about the people you sleep with?
umm... the important ones i guess lol

I laughed.

How many one-night stands did you have last year?
2... and there were 2 that were 2 night stands lol

This one both amused and troubled me. I'd been at university for three years and not had sex myself once. I knew it was happening - of course; I even have my own stories of sex destroying things in the first year - but I'd never really seen any particular evidence that my university was one of those hotbeds of promiscuity that the right-wing press and two years of horny sixth form would have one believe. Still, these were one- (or two-) night stands; no biggie, really.

Do you have a crush on anyone and do they know about it?
umm... yeah a few people... and i am sleeping with some of them lol

Some of them.

Some of them.

More than one person.

Not a poly relationship. Not someone sleeping around. Not even somebody cheating. But somebody single who was having sex with some of the people she had a crush on. On a regular basis.

My imagination, before I could slam on the brakes, spiralled out of control faster than Billy Whizz on steroids. This girl, this small blonde girl who played the piano and whose friends may or may not have referred to her as "Mouth", was openly sexual. She had one- (and two-) night stands that happened more than once in the same academic year. She was having sexual intercourse with more than one person regularly.

My brain filled in the blanks. She had sex every night. She had a little book (or possibly a Rolodex), in which she juggled the people with whom she slept. She had sex for every single reason possible, whether it was for affection or for lust, or just because she was angry or needed to blow off steam. She was probably having sex right now, as I was reading her MySpace, as a way to decompress after a committee meeting of the society she was part of.

And she was freely admitting to it on MySpace. In three simple Q&As, this blonde mouth-related piano player transitioned from somebody who I always found unassuming to be a cheerful, playful paragon of everything that the reckless promiscuous lifestyle of university students stood for. Here she sat, gleeful in the knowledge that she was freely delivering and receiving pleasure most divine at her own liberty, and there I was at the other end, watching all of this via the little window in my brain that wouldn't. shut. up.

As you can imagine, I didn't get around to typing up the minutes that night.

*

Almost ten years on and that idea still excites me. I can hardly remember what "Mouth" looked like, or even what she was studying, but that's not important. What tittilates me, intrigues and beguiles me, and even brings me to orgasm at some points (more than I'd like to admit, actually, but I've just done so, so more fool me), is the idea that somebody could be so comfortable, so self-assured and so at one with her sexuality... that she could not only have casual sex, but also a number of short-term sexual partners at the same time, possibly even on rotation, simply because she liked to have sex.

Having seen what I've seen since then, this should no longer be surprising.

And it isn't.

But I still think it's hot.

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