There’s a monkey in the jungle
Watchin’ a vapour trail
Caught up in the conflict
Between his brain and his tail
I had every reason for going to the club at 9pm. I couldn’t really thrash about on the dancefloor with the sweating, heaving mass who usually rolled in at around 11, and although I usually stayed until everyone chucked out at 2am, half of my night would be drinking something soft. In a corner. Alone.
So I went in at nine, danced for two hours and then resigned myself to my quiet existence otherwise. People I knew, and people I liked, drifted in and out at various points, and sometimes people liked to watch me dance. But, again, I was usually alone.
On this night, however, I didn’t feel alone. I hadn’t been alone for a week, and I was still enjoying the high.
I knew the DJ by sight; I liked him, too – he had a good taste in music and would usually play some James for me if I asked. Despite this, I never quite caught his name; the one whose name I did know had graduated to Actual Clubs™. The university’s union bar was busy, but still… a union bar.
“Excuse me,” I said as politely as I could while having to raise my voice over the thundering din, “but could you play 19/2000 by Gorillaz?”
“Original or remix?”
“Soulchild remix, if you have it!”
“OK, hang on…” he replied, shuffling through a pile of what I recognised as NOW That’s What I Call Music! collections. “It’s here somewhere. Do you want it dedicated to someone?”
“Yes, please, can you dedicate it to Louise?”
“Sure thing. THIS ONE’S FOR LOUISE!” he yelled into the tannoy before Gorillaz (I’m not sure which one – probably 2D?) informed us all that it was the music that we choose. “What’s she done for you?”
He probably didn’t mean that to be such a loaded question. I’d honestly no idea how to answer, either.
I mean, what exactly should I say? Maybe I could mention the way her soft folds tightened around my erection as she mounted me in her car. Perhaps I could talk about the way she bent over her bath expectantly just after sex and clearly ready for more. I could even mention how good she felt during public bathroom sex, but then the public bathroom next to the DJ booth was also somewhere I’d had an orgasm (albeit alone, on my first night there). I’d be disrespecting it, or something.
“She just likes the song,” I shrugged, not untruthfully. The first time we met, 19/2000 had just come out, and she had been texting me snippets of the lyrics whenever she was bored.
It made a change from the ASCII-style porn that Emma kept texting me.
Anyway, the DJ seemed satisfied enough with my answer.
“Hey, do you want to hear some James?” he asked, as I turned to walk away. “I like Laid, how about Laid?”
Oh my Glod, does he know? my dickbrain suddenly started asking. Can he tell? Do I still have that ‘just-had-a-week-of-sex’ glow on me, even though I had a shower recently? Is it that obvious?
“Yes please,” I gabbled, and left as quickly as possible, choosing to avoid the dancefloor with my completely inappropriate erection and instead head to the bar for my first soft drink of the night.
Where, pulling out my ‘phone, I started texting Louise the lyrics.