High Heels & Pink Glitter (the heavily edited version)

The Cheshire cat

"Why are you grinning away like a big Cheshire cat?" Dennis asked, as he parked the van at Anniesland Cross.

Ross leapt out of the passenger side and tried, but was unable, to wipe the smile off his face. "Just happy, boss. No' a crime, is it?"

Dennis exited the van, slamming his door shut. The two of them unlocked the back. It was one of those rare summer mornings when the ground was bone-dry thanks to the previous week's dry weather and the rising sun had already warmed everything in their immediate surroundings and patches of brown, crumbly dirt speckled the concrete. Tiny brown birds dotted about, chirping more loudly then their tiny bodies seemed capable of, happy to share the space with humans before cars filled up the car park.

"See, I dinnae trust folks who're cheery first thing in the morning. It's no' natural." Dennis shook his head. "In the afternoon when you're finished your work, aye. Or in the evenings when ye've a beer in your hand, and a wee honey on your knee... oh, is that it!"

"Is what it?" Ryan plugged in the electrics, powering up the small grill and the electric rings they used to cook bacons and eggs.

"You've been shagging, haven't ye? Ye've finally persuaded some daft wee lassie tae pop your cherry?"

Argh, and argh... Prickly red heat flooded Ryan's torso, rising upwards from his chest to his neck and face. God, was he that easy to read?

Dennis's burnished russet apple cheeks glinted in the sun. "Ha! Kent it! Was she blind? Stupit? Did ye have tae pay her?"

"Fuck off, she's none o' those things, she's..." too late, he realised he'd walked into it, admitting Dennis was right, even if his blasted hormones had confessed the deed without him saying anything.

Dennis clapped him on the back. "Well done, my son! You're a proper man now, even if a puff o' wind could knock ye over."

A woman, her eyes fixed on her phone, had appeared at the hatch. "Any chance of a coffee? And a scrambled egg roll?"

The request, thankfully, quietened Dennis down as he beat eggs, while Ryan buttered a roll and boiled water, turning away from both so neither of them could see his face. That Cheshire cat grin was impossible to suppress. It popped up again, despite the risk of Dennis noting it and continuing to take the piss.

He basked in the feeling—complete contentment, secure in the knowledge that he and Erin would do the same and the same again the next time they met up.

The first time took place the day Erin was stabbed. Well, stabbed was a bit dramatic. Her brother was the one who'd needed hospitalisation, although based on what Erin told him, his injuries weren't nearly as severe as those sustained by a guy at Ryan's school who'd been knifed the year before and who still needed a stick to help him walk.

But yeah, Erin had been awfy upset. Even though she often spoke about Ross in disparaging terms, when push came to shove, their shared genes created a closer bond than most siblings. The evening it happened, she'd called Ryan, her voice thick with tears.

He met her at her gran's house, which happened to be near Tadgh's flat. "Can I see where you live?" she asked, and he led her there while his heart skittered all over the place because he knew Tadgh was out for the evening.

She loved Cocoa, who wagged her tail in approval and rolled over, allowing Erin to tickle her belly, while Ryan fetched her a chilled Diet Coke from the fridge. After drinking half of it, she set the can on the floor, got to her feet and removed her school blouse and bra.

Ryan had seen it all before, but there was something about her strip-teasing in that flat when Tadgh might—though it was unlikely arrive home at any minute—that sent Ryan's heart into overdrive.

"Shall I... shall I... get a condom?" he asked, as she stepped out of her skirt to reveal only her lacey white knickers, white socks and navy-blue Mary-Janes with their small block heels.

"No need!" she grinned at him, bending over to pick up her blazer. "See, I'm such a Scout! Always be prepared!" She waggled the foil packet, and his heart, how was that even possible, raced some more.

They did it there, seeing as the sofa was much wider and longer than Ryan's bed in the box room. Erin had previously confessed she wasn't a virgin. Private school pupils went to a lot of parties in big houses where they could hide out of sight of parents and experiment with all the things they'd watched and read about online.

She unrolled the condom onto Ryan's cock as he lay back on the sofa, having rapidly divested his jeans, shirt, boxers and socks. Putting on a condom was something he'd tried a few times by himself out of curiosity and a feeling that he should know how to do it, but it was far more thrilling when done by someone else.

Not nearly as mind-blowing, however, as the next bit. Erin climbed astride him, took his cock in her hand and slid it inside of her. The groan he released emanated from the soles of his feet, and she grinned at him, pinning his arms above him and swaying gently back and forth, each tiny motion producing exquisite pressure that tightened up his balls and ran the entire length of his shaft.

"D'you like that?"

"Eh... aye. D'you?"

"Yeah, I like being in charge."

It was too hard—ha, see what he did there?—to talk and thrust at the same time, so he closed his eyes, lost in the blissful moment, letting Erin dictate the pace. When, finally, he came—an intense explosion of pleasure that sent waves vibrating through him—he knew he'd lasted long enough for Erin not to refer to him as Speedy Gonzalez if she talked to her pals.

Which, hopefully, she wouldn't.

"You've no' come, though? What d'ye want me to do?"

And she'd laid down next to him, guided his hand between her legs, which felt much wetter than usual, and let out a satisfactory, Oh God that's a-may-zing minutes later.

Memories of his night propelled Ryan through the morning, with occasional proddings from Dennis, Oi, lover boy! Pay attention, when he left bacon under the grill for too long, or forgot what customers ordered.

At lunchtime, as the queue snaked almost the entire way back to the breezeblock office building at the rear of the car park, a man strode towards them. Dennis peered in his direction as he piled cheese, ham and coleslaw into two rolls.

"Oh, look who it is!"

Ryan stared. Mark strode towards them, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, the sides of his too-large black Polo shirt fluttering in the breeze and his gaze locked on the van. The dark eyes swept over Ryan as soon as he caught sight of him.

Ryan's mouth ran dry. "What's he doin' here?"