“That’s bollocks, Greenfield,” said Dean Murphy, hurling a half-deflated tennis ball against the wall of the gym. “There’s no way you’ve nobbed Gemma Hadley. For starters, cos she’s well fit, and for seconders, because you’re a total gay.”
Martin Greenfield pushed his hands into the pockets of his parka.
It was a joke, once. It might still be a joke, but it’s been going on for so long that I don’t think I can tell any more. It certainly isn’t funny any more. But then there are plenty of jokes that aren’t funny.
He always used to say that normal human relationships were a fiction, a fantasy, because – he said – they were always founded on language. And language, he said, was always a lie, because it could only ever be a crude approximation, a rough sketch, of what truly went on in the deeps of the human soul. Humans, he said, were doomed to mistruth. Life was a lie. Love was a lie.
I press my lips together, turning my silence into a rigid smile. I am determined to give nothing away. Let this charlatan work for his guinea.
He sighs understandingly. His breath is warm and stale, like bread left too long near the stove. He is a stout, florid gentleman, who wears a loud green check and smells faintly of pomade. Mr. Fritsch, Medium to the Gentry, does not inspire confidence in me; but to whom else can I turn?
Kayla, 29, was pretty, but in a pinched way, both literally thin and narrowly perched on a section of the border between beauty and ugliness that was particularly precarious. She was sitting awkwardly on some badly-carpeted stairs, holding her labia open with a greedy expression on her face. Even on her spare frame, the pose made her stomach ruffle into rolls. Her inner thighs had acne.
Sofia, 21, on the other hand, was burnished like lino. This wasn’t an afterthought for her. She’d had a spray tan to cover her knicker-marks. Her anus and vagina were partly shaded puckers in an otherwise smooth bronze surface.
Longtime contributors Niall Boyce, Jonathan Pinnock & Richard Smyth all have books out which you'd be well advised to buy, then read, then buy for others. All genres are catered for, from novels (Niall's Veronica Britton) and short stories (Jonathan's Dot Dash) to nonfiction (Richard's Bumfodder)
KATY LIAR'S DEBUT NOVEL
Liar Katy Darby's debut novel, a Victorian drama called The Unpierced Heart (previously titled The Whores' Asylum) is now out in Penguin paperback. It's had nice reviews in The Independent on Sunday, Sunday Times & Metro (4*).
OUR INTERVIEW WITH ANNEXE MAG!
They came, they saw, they asked us a bunch of interesting questions. Interview by Nick of Annexe Magazine with Katy of LL: here
