A Pint of Beer, a Bag of Chips, and Thou (4 page)

warm smell of candle wax and pine cones drew us in. The place

was packed already—St Saviour’s has a healthy congregation all

year round, due in no small part to my Aunty Gerry—but at

Christmas, everyone and his dog turns up. Though the dog has

to wait in the porch, mind.

“We’d better go up to the gallery,” I murmured, but Mum

spotted us. Well, with me in the psychedelic cardigan topped off

with Aunty Mags’s tea-cosy, and Neil still wound up in Aunty

Des’s scarf, she’d have had to have been struck blind not to.

She stood up and waved frantically, and an old man in the

pew behind turned puce as her breasts jiggled in front of him in

her low-cut top. “We’ve saved you a couple of spaces,” she

called, her voice carrying effortlessly all through the jostling,

laughing crowd to where Neil and I stood by the font.

“Sorry,” I murmured to Neil. “I tried to save you.”

“We’re in a church,” he said, shrugging as we made our

way up the aisle. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You want me to answer that?” We sidled into the pew,

and I laid my saxophone case on the kneeler. “Mum, this is Neil.”

She gave him a good look up and down before extending

a hand. “Lily.”

Her eyes went wide as Neil bent to brush a kiss across it.

“Oh, you’ll do,” she purred. “You’ll do very well indeed. I can’t

wait to get to know you better.”

“Mum! I haven’t even got to know him better myself, yet!”

“If we’re talking biblically, here,” Neil muttered in my ear, “I

think your mum and me are going to have to stay nodding

acquaintances.”

“Pen-pals is good, too,” I whispered back, glaring at Mum.

“If you look down the pew, you’ll see my aunties.”

Just because we don’t hold with her beliefs, they’ve

always said, doesn’t mean we can’t support your Aunty Gerry in

her chosen profession.

He looked. Aunty Mags showed him her dimples, and

Aunty Des waved a bony hand. “I knitted that,” she mouthed,

pointing at the Doctor Who scarf.

“It’s great,” he mouthed back, beaming, just as the organ

struck up and Aunty Gerry came out in her gleaming white, a

teddy bear dressed up as an angel.

The church fell silent as she opened wide her arms,

welcoming us all in, and taking a good, hard look at the lot of us

at the same time.
Judge not, that ye not be judged
, she always

says,
but there’s no harm in forming a preliminary opinion
. When her gaze reached me and Neil, she gave a wicked grin.

“Welcome, all of you, to our service where we put the

Mass into Christmas. All are welcome in God’s house, even if

they’ve only rolled in because the pubs have shut—that’s right,

you lot up in the gallery, I’ve got my eye on you and so’s my

boss.” It was an eye that twinkled, nonetheless.

Well, Aunty Gerry’s was, anyhow. I couldn’t answer for the

big guy.

“We’re going to start with hymn number seventeen on the

carol sheet, ‘Silent Night.’ And that’s no excuse for just mouthing

the words. I want to hear you raise a joyful sound to the Lord!”

She gave Miri at the organ a fond smile as the intro crashed out.

I could tell Neil wasn’t too sure what to do when we got to

the Peace. Me, I’ve always loved that part of the service.

Usually—yeah, all right, I’ll admit I’ve been to a few services, and

maybe I’m not so much of a heathen as I like to pretend—

usually, it’s just a handshake and a “Peace be with you.” But at

Midnight Mass, the place is filled with friends and neighbours

working their way down the pews to wish each other Happy

Christmas with a handclasp, a kiss, maybe even a hug.

The old guy behind us nearly had a stroke when Mum

leaned over the back of the pew to give him a full-on embrace.

Neil swallowed. I guessed he was thinking it’d be him next. I

pulled him in close and gave him a peck on the cheek—hey, we

were in church. The only tongues the Good Lord allows in his

house, my Aunty Gerry always says, are the ones you speak in.

“Happy Christmas,” I said, and glared at Mum over his shoulder

to make sure she’d restrain herself.

“Happy Christmas,” she said, and gave us each a chaste hug.

After the service, everyone had a smile on their face. I

offloaded my saxophone onto Mum, and Neil and I walked out into

the porch to see snowflakes drifting down from the clouds. “Wil

you look at that?” I said in wonder. “It never snows in London at

Christmas.” I leaned down to give my Aunty Gerry a kiss. “Know

someone in high places, do you?” I asked her with a grin.

“That I do, my lad, and He’s told me to remind you what

naughty boys get in their stockings.”

“What’s that, then?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“A great pair of legs—what else?” She cackled, and gave

Neil a nod and a handshake. “I take it Miri and I
won’t
be seeing you back at the Rectory, then?”

“Not this year,” I said. “But give Miri a kiss from her

favourite nephew, will you?”

“I’ll give her several. From her
only
nephew. Now, hold on

a mo, I’ve got something for you.” She reached behind her for a

moment then held out a crumpled carrier bag. “Happy

Christmas—and remember: if you can’t be good—”

“—be careful,” I finished for her. I was guessing she’d got

me the same present as last year, then. “Thanks, Aunty Gerry.

You’re a peach.”

I kissed her cheek again, and she made shooing

gestures. “Now get along with you! I’ve got the rest of the parish

to shake hands with!”

I shoved the present into one of my voluminous pockets—

Mum’s cardigan coming up trumps again—as we crunched on

settling snow back through the churchyard.

“Miri?” Neil asked

“She’s the organist. And Aunty Gerry’s significant other.”

“Right.” Neil chuckled, a warm, soft sound like mulled

wine on a cold winter’s night. “That explains a few things.”

We headed away from the crowd, cutting through side

streets, and stopped under a streetlamp. Its light shone off the

snowflakes that had fallen in Neil’s hair, blending with the silver

and turning it to white gold. It seemed like another bit of magic

had happened; we were alone, not another soul on the street.

This was the crossing of the ways. “So…what’s it going to be?” I

asked. “Down the hill to the Tube station—or up the hill and back

to my place?”

“I’ve got to go,” Neil said, sounding like the words

wrenched his heart as much as they wrenched mine. “Promised

my sister I’d drive down for lunch tomorrow. The kids are

expecting me to bring ‘em presents—they’re five and seven. I

can’t let them down. And if I don’t get some sleep tonight I’ll

never make it down to Devon in one piece.”

I stroked his cheek, the stubble rasping against my

fingertips. “And if you came home with me, I can guarantee you

wouldn’t get any sleep,” I said softly. Neil’s eyes closed under

the caress, and his breath warmed my fingers, a teasing hint of

the heat we could raise between us, if we only had the time.

Desperate, I looked around—and saw the entrance to a

narrow alleyway between two boarded-up shops. I grabbed Neil

by the hand and pulled him down it with me. It was free of winos,

pre-digested booze, and other detritus of the night, thank God for

a Christmas miracle.

“So I’d reckon it’s time we had that kiss we were saving

for later,” I said, my voice coming out a little breathless.

“Well, it’s definitely later, now.” Neil glanced at his watch,

not that he’d be able to see it in the sallow glow of the now-

distant street light. “It’s so late, if we’re not careful it’s going to start getting early.”

“Can’t have that, now, can we?” I pulled him to me and

slipped my arms around his waist, inside his trench coat. He felt

warm and solid—in fact a certain part of him was getting more

solid by the minute. Probably warmer, too.

“Never kissed anyone with a mohawk,” he said, his voice

low and rough. His hands slid up to cup my face. “Wanted to.

There was this boy who lived round the corner from my mum’s—

I never even spoke to him, though. He was straight, and he

wouldn’t have looked twice at me even if he hadn’t been.” A

smile curled his breath. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me, if

you’d known me back then. And I don’t mean just because you’d

have been in nappies. Weedy little thing, I was then.”

“Fil ed out nicely now, though.” I let my hands slip to his

arse, and kneaded it to show him just one of the areas I was talking

about. “Fine wine’s not the only thing that gets bet er with age.”

“I wouldn’t know. Give me a pint of beer any day.”

“A pint of beer, a bag of chips, and thou?” I misquoted

with a grin.

“See? There you go again. Surprising me. I wouldn’t have

thought you’d know your Omar Khayyam from your elbow.”

“That’s my Aunty Des’s influence. She doesn’t only do

scarves, you know.” I reached out to unloop part of the scarf

from around his neck, and put it around mine. “There. Let’s see

you getting out of this.”

“Where there’s a will there’s a way. And I’ll be buggered if

I’ve got the slightest bit of will-power where you’re concerned,

my lad.”

“Then I’d say it’s time I gave you your Christmas present,”

I said softly.

“So which alternate universe did you pop to the shops in,

then? I’ll warn you now, I haven’t got you anything. I might be

wearing Doctor Who’s scarf but I haven’t got a bloody TARDIS.”

“Ah, well that’s the beauty of it. See, my Christmas

present to you is also your Christmas present to me.” I kissed

him again, and without losing eye contact, unwound the loop of

the scarf that was tying us together and lowered myself to my

knees. In my head, “Edge of Glory” was playing, clear as day.

Neil drew in a sharp breath, and shivered. “Sure about

this? It’s brass monkey weather out here.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything freeze off.”

“Gonna keep it warm for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Slowly, I pulled down his zip. His prick was

straining at his boxer shorts, so I eased it out gently with a hand.

“Doesn’t look like the cold’s affected it too badly.”

“You reckon? You should see me in a heatwave. Grown

men run screaming.” His eyes closed briefly as I stroked him up

and down. “Nah, it’s all down to you being so…fucking…hot.”

I stuck out my tongue to lick along the length of him,

savouring his saltiness and breathing in his musk.

“God, don’t stop,” Neil panted, as I palmed his balls and

swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. “Fucking

amazing, that is. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You know, you’ve got a dirty mouth on you,” I mused.

Then I wrapped my lips around his cock and started to suck. He

filled my mouth nicely, heavy on my tongue. My jaw was gonna

ache tomorrow; it’d be something to remember him by.

“Pot—fuck! Meet kettle. Christ, don’t stop.”

His hips were jerking, and I guessed he was having a

hard time holding back from just thrusting down my throat.

Damn, that was hot. I love it when a man loses control. I moved

a hand onto his shaft to stop him choking me by mistake, and

pumped him with my fist as I alternately sucked and licked at his

cock head.

Neil’s balls tightened in my hand, and the curses became

one continuous groan that was swallowed up by the darkness. I

was harder than cold iron, desperate for a touch, so as his cock

started to pulse I thrust a hand down my trousers and pumped

my aching stiffie in rhythm with his spurts. Each tug was a

crescendo of ecstasy. My breath caught and my head spun as I

came, swallowing Neil’s come as I shot out my own, as if his

orgasm was shooting right through my body and out through my

cock into my underwear.

As Neil’s cock slipped from my lips, I collapsed against his

hip. I felt dizzy, and I still couldn’t catch my breath.

Then I remembered I still had my hand in my pants, so I

yanked it back out again and gulped in snow-flavoured air, able

to breathe once more. Damn, those leather trousers were tight.

Neil’s hands were running over my head, stroking me

feverishly.

“Don’t muss the mohawk,” I told him, my voice hoarse and

shaky. “Ah. Bit late. Sorry. You might want to put your hat back

on before anyone sees you.”

I yanked my hand up to feel for the damage. “Hey—

there’s nothing wrong with it!”

Neil laughed, the bastard. “Course there isn’t! You think

I’d mess up your crowning glory?”

“Maybe not, but I just did,” I said ruefully, realising I’d just

rubbed my own spunk all over my hair. Couldn’t seem to stop

smiling, though.

Neil put his hands under my elbows and helped me to my

feet. Maybe the moon had come out or something, because

there was enough light to see he was wearing a smile to match

my own as he zipped himself back up. I gave my hand a wipe on

my T-shirt, just to be sure, then put my arms around him and

kissed him, letting him taste himself in my mouth.