Читать книгу What Rhymes with Bastard? - Linda Robertson - Страница 8

My Landlord is a Pervert

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My landlord doesn’t live here, and that’s a piece of luck

Coz he isn’t very fussy about what he likes to fuck.

My landlord is a pervert, and that’s all right with me,

He keeps the house in order, and sometimes stays for tea.

He keeps his books at our place – philosophical texts,

Nietzsche, Kant and Hegel on the ins and outs of sex.

My landlord is a pervert, and that’s all right with me,

He keeps the house in order, and sometimes stays for tea.

He is awfully fond of enemas and he does them in the park,

Finds an unsuspecting vagrant and makes his muddy mark.6

My landlord is a pervert, and that’s all right with me,

He keeps the house in order, and sometimes stays for tea.

He is best friends with a male prostitute and a Satanist called Steve,

They hang out in hard-core nightclubs with sailors on shore leave.

My landlord is a pervert, and that’s all right with me,

He keeps the house in order, and sometimes stays for tea!

‘That’s great, Bun! So, can we do it standing up?’

‘No.’

‘Please.’

‘I’ll get cold.’

‘Go on – put your wedding shoes on and then you’ll be tall enough.’

He was starting to get snotty, and I couldn’t stand being frozen out. ‘Back in a sec,’ I said, and trotted off to the kitchen for a swig of vodka. The wedding shoes were six-inch platforms with black leather ankle straps. I did up all the little thongs and wobbled to a precarious upright.

‘Christ, Lins.’ He grinned. ‘You’re so fuckable! Stand up! There you go. See, we’re nearly the same height now so we can do it like this. It’ll fit.’

I felt horribly exposed without a bed on one side of me, like a giant whiting fillet. The 3-D nudity was especially awkward in those ridiculous shoes. And how was I supposed to come? I couldn’t twiddle myself to a climax with Jack in the way. Still, it was probably worth it; otherwise he’d be a grumpy sod. Five more minutes, I told myself, and I’d be back on the bed, reading my book.

‘Bend your knees a bit, Bun.’

I assumed the don’t-get-pee-on-your-shoes position while he shoved, blindly.

‘Help me, then, Lins. A bit of guidance, for God’s sake.’

I sighed. ‘Is this going to happen every time I wear these shoes?’

He oiled the machinery with spit and tried again. ‘Aah, that’s it.’ Uuup down up down up down up down up down up down up down up down up … My shoulder-blade kept knocking against the door jamb. And I was cold.

The best thing about fucking was that I got to lie down.

What Rhymes with Bastard?

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