Wow. So much information to process in that little vignette. I know I’ve led a pretty staid life in comparison, but wowser, it sounds like Nat’s a bit of a wild ride.
‘I’m going to have to be honest and say I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know about any of it. I’ve never been with a bisexual... anyone, much less had my boyfriend suggest a threesome.’
‘No? When it’s done right, it’s like fucking a unicorn!’
The barman sets her drink down in front of her. It has colourful layers—yellow, orange, and blue—and a little cocktail umbrella. The kind I haven’t seen in a decade.
Taking a mouthful, Nat puts the glass down. ‘Now, that’s what I’m talking about.’
‘Nice, is it?’
‘It’s like sex,’ she says with a satisfied sigh.
‘Better than sex?’ I ask cheekily.
‘Depends on the measure,’ she answers in an instant. I think she’s referring to the alcohol content until she adds, ‘Depends on the dick.’
‘Does size make a difference?’ How much do I need to drink to be comfortable taking part in surreal conversations? This must be what it’s like to try conversation after dropping acid, rather than just drinking beer.
‘It’s no good having a man wi’ a big dick if he hasn’t scoobie, you know?’ I shake my head because I’ve no idea what she’s talking about. ‘If he hasn’t a scoobie do?’ she says, slightly exasperated, adding, ‘if he hasn’t a clue!’
‘Oh. Got it. Thanks for the translation.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she says with a sigh. ‘But one thing’s for sure; it’s easier to get yourself off with a big dick than a little one, especially if you’re in the driver’s seat. You know, on top? Unless he’s a preemie,’ she says, pulling an inelegant face. ‘ ‘Cause then, my friend, your orgasm is doomed.’
I feel my cheeks heat, wondering how impolite it would be to ask her to keep her voice down.
‘Why the questions, though? I thought you had a long-term boyfriend?’
‘I do.’ Not. I do not have a boyfriend and will eventually get around to telling people what a bastard he is. Hopefully, after I get laid this weekend. ‘I was having a discussion with a colleague on sexuality recently. Something you said triggered a recollection on a female perception of, erm, penis size.’
She doesn’t look too convinced.
‘I can head up that panel.’ She snorts. ‘Ha—headup that panel! How about Female Orgasm by Phallic Size—Fact or Fallacy?’ She begins laughing bawdily while my responding smile is a touch blander.
‘If you ask me, sounds more like your colleague was tryin’ to find out how big your man’s dick is. I’d watch her if I were you. Some women like a man better if he’s got a girlfriend.’
‘You mean bisexual women?’
‘No, I mean whores.’
Something buzzes on Nat’s person, and she pulls out a phone from inside her bra, flipping it open.
‘And so it begins,’ she says with a sigh. ‘Looks like they’ve started scrapping already. I’d best get back to bash some heids. Heads,’ she adds, translating again. Then, from the back of her phone cover, she pulls out a Scottish ten-pound note.
‘No, my treat,’ I say, covering her hand with mine.
‘No,’ she insists. ‘I like to pay my way.’
And just like that, she leans in, smacking my cheek with her sticky pink lips, and then she’s gone. Without even finishing her colourful drink.
