Hando Got Lucky

Hando had a girl upstairs, Boz heard the noises and tossed around in his bed. He had no idea who she was, he’d been asleep when they came in. He thought she might be the one Hando was talking too down at The Crossing after the BBQ but they’d left together neither one of them counting themselves lucky.

All right that was it, he’d heard enough, “Hold it down up there.” He yelled out.

Wouldn’t be so bad if he had one too, he finally got up kicking a path through his dirty clothes to the refrigerator. He was out of beer, slamming the door he padded around checking the empties littering most surfaces, a swallow left here and there at least wet his tonsils. He found his smokes and emptied out a chair and lit up.

Soon the noise subsided.

“You like that do ya huh?’ Hando purred in her ear.

“You are something else Hando.”

Hando propped himself up in the bed with pillows and reached for his cigarettes. He offered one to Bet, the girl he’d met at The Crossing, she’d had to take her roommate home before she drove out to the garage where Hando lived upstairs and Boz hibernated downstairs.

She was clearly turned on by his tattoos and kept running her hands over them. “Where have you been?”

“Around, aren’t you glad you found me?”

“Oh hell yes.” She was an American working as a bartender and had been bumming around Europe and the continent for five years. “What are you anyway?”

“I’m an Australian.”

“No I mean all these tattoos, whatever made you do it?”

“What’s on the inside is on the outside, I am what I am…I’m a skinhead.”

“Oh yeah says so right here on your neck. I like it, whatever it is that you are.” She began teasing his nipples.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why I like them.”

“Because I said so.” He grabbed an handful of her hair and pulled her face to his, licked her lips and kissed her.

“Oh huh huh, treat me bad Hando.”

He smiled slightly.