Dead Famous

“Me too, I’ll have him after you’ve finished with him,” said Moon, “’cos I reckon you’re dead fookin’ lush, Jazz. I can say it in here because it’s dark and I’m pissed and you can’t see me going red, but at the end of the day I’d bang your fookin’ brains out if I had a chance, so fair play to ya ’cos I think you’re brilliant.”

“Bang his brains out? That’d take all of ten seconds!” shouted Garry.

“You’re just jealous, Gazzer,” Jazz shouted back, “because it’s two nil to me! Two nil! Two nil! Two nil.” Jazz had turned his score into a chant.

Sally returned from the toilet. There was much groaning and giggling as she squeezed her way in among the naked bodies.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Jazz,” she said. “Listening to you and Gazzer I’m glad I’m a lesbian.”

“Yes, you’d better watch it, Jazz,” Dervla added. “I’m thinking about changing my vote.”

“Well, I’ll have Hamish, then,” Kelly shouted. “Because he’s a doctor and you’ve got to respect that, haven’t you?”

Actually Kelly fancied Jazz, like all the other girls except Sally, but she nominated Hamish because she wanted to be nice to him. She had been feeling guilty about the strange half-formed suspicion that she had harboured after their drunken night together and in particular about the fact that she had spoken to Peeping Tom about the matter. Not in so many words, of course, but she had gone to the confession box to ask whether anything had happened, which was a pretty clear indication of what she was thinking. That had been really bad of her. It must have looked to everyone like she was worried that Hamish had attempted to take advantage of her drunken state. Kelly knew that was a pretty major thing to imply about anybody, particularly a doctor, and particularly since she had by now definitely decided in her mind that nothing untoward had occurred in Copulation Cabin that night. Kelly wanted to make amends, and she reckoned by naming him as her preferred partner she was making clear that she harboured no further suspicions.

Hamish was thrilled. He had noted Kelly’s unscheduled trip to the confession box and had been horribly disturbed by it. Now, however, he knew that he was safe. Kelly had named him as her partner of choice, and if she had been harbouring any suspicions about his character or conduct she would scarcely have done that, would she?

“Besides which,” Kelly continued, “doctors have such sensitive hands, and a girl does love a gentle touch.”

Garry and Jazz cheered drunkenly. Hamish gulped at the hot salty air. “Sensitive hands”?… “gentle touch”? Was it a coincidence? Did she know? Had she been conscious all along and enjoying his… his explorations, his… digital penetration?. It was possible surely, after all Kelly was quite a wild one. Hamish smiled broadly, a big happy smile which nobody could see. It was all going to be all right, maybe even better than all right. Maybe he might even get another chance at her.

“Cheers, Kelly!” Hamish shouted out. “I’m deeply flattered and most certainly reciprocate the nomination.”

“And I shall join you, my son,” Garry shouted. “No offence to the other girls, but it’s got to be Kelly, ain’t it? I mean just for the knockers alone.”

“Forget it, Garry,” Hamish replied. “Personally I’m not into threesomes.”

“Listen to these two!” Kelly shrieked. “I’m being fought over, girls. I think it’s dead romantic” Which, considering she was sitting naked in a communal sweatbox, showed how drunk Kelly had become.

“What about you, then, Sally?” Jazz asked. “Who’d you have if you had to have someone?”

“I’d have Dervla, thank you very much,” Sally replied quietly. “I think we’d make a lovely couple at the next Pride Festival.”

“Well, I’m delighted and flattered,” said Dervla from somewhere in the darkness. “I think that’s a terribly sweet thing to say, Sally, and if I batted for your team I should take you up on the offer without further ado.”

“All right!” shouted Garry. “Can I watch?”

“So you’ve got two nominations then, Dervo,” said Jazz. “Impressive score, girl. Equal to the Jazz meister.”

“Do lezzo votes count, then?” asked Garry. “I mean, I’m not being homo whatsit or nothing, but I’d have thought they’d be in a different category, wouldn’t they?”

“What absolute rubbish, Garry,” snapped Dervla, “and you are being homo whatsit.”

“No way,” Garry defended himself. “I’m a big supporter of lesbian love. I could watch it all day. In fact I’ve got some excellent videos if anyone’s interested, for when we all get out.”

This comment put Kelly in mind of David and her little secret bit of knowledge about him. So Garry collected porn. She wondered whether he had any of the Fuck Orgy series. “Who do you nominate, then, David?” she asked.

“To have sex with, out of our little group?” David replied, his voice being heard in the pitch-black sweatbox for the first time. “Why, who else but myself? For me sex is nothing without love and commitment, and you all know that I love no one on this earth so much as I love moi.”

They all laughed, as David had hoped they would. He was perfectly well aware that he must have been coming across to the public as extremely vain. He always came across as extremely vain, and the reason for this was because he was extremely vain. But the funny thing about David’s vanity was that it was both his most irritating and his most charming feature. There was something almost endearing or at least comical about how much David loved himself, and as people got to know him they began to see the fun in it. David hoped that this would work for him in the house. All his life he had progressed from being the one people simply hated, through being the one people loved to hate, until eventually ending up being a person people hated themselves for loving. It was a complex equation, but it was pretty much how things worked socially for David, and he thought he might have a similar relationship with the public. He imagined that his little joke about sex with himself (should it be broadcast) would do much to improve his standing with the voting public. David was an acquired taste, and he believed that once the penny dropped with people that he knew how vain he was, they would start to like him more.

“Not bad, not bad,” said Geraldine crouching over the monitoring controls. “At least they’re talking about sex. Got some lovely stuff to broadcast there. I loved David’s wanking joke. He’s really coming into his own. Might put a few quid on him to make the final three. Wouldn’t that be a surprise?”

“I hope they continue to speak up,” the sound editor said. “Don’t forget they aren’t wearing their radio mikes. We’re relying on the ones dropping from the ceiling.”

“I know that, but what could we do? You can’t fit bloody battery packs onto naked people. They’d get in the way. Besides, what would you hang the mikes off?”

“All right, come on, then,” said Moon. “Another truth question. Who’s got one, then? Here, I’ve got one. Has anybody ever paid for sex?”

“Fahkin’ hell, Moon,” Gazzer laughed. “I’ve paid for it the next day all right, when I told the girlfriend I’d just knocked off her sister or her best mate or whatever.”

“No, I mean paid money for gratification. Been with a tart or summat.”

The reason Moon was asking became clear with her next comment. “All right, then. Who’s ever been paid for sex, because I know I fookin’ ’ave.”

This revelation definitely caused a flurry of interest.

“I’m not proud of it or anything, but at the end of the day I needed the money, right. I were doing arts and social studies at Preston uni, when it was the poly, and I hadn’t got the fees, and I were fooked if I was going to stand behind a bar all night making the same money I could get in twenty minutes lying on my back.”

Everyone was enjoying themselves except Sally. She hated Moon so much, her endless boasting and storytelling. So what if she’d been a prostitute? Who cared? Besides, Sally didn’t believe it. She didn’t believe anything that Moon said any more, and she never ever would again.

“I’ve been in a porn movie,” Kelly said. “Does that count as being paid for sex?”

Silent in the darkness, David tensed. Where was she going with this?

“Well, it depends if you’ve actually done it for the camera or not,” Garry said. “I’ve got this film, it’s called LA 100 and all it is, right, you’ll never believe this, but it’s true. All it is is this bird