One Reply to “6.30.2015 Journal Prompt”

  1. The Brewsters, they’s like a club and no girls allowed. They’s all related somehow and it’s like all of ‘em is cut from the same cloth. Old Brewster, he’s known as a bit of a dog in heat. There isn’t a girl in these parts who hasn’t been the object of his attentions at one time or another – not ‘less you count Sally Sparks in your calculations and she’s blind in one eye and’s got only one arm, and she’s as fat as a cow what’s in calf, and on top of that she’s not quite the full shilling. And old rutting-dog Brewster, well he says he never would, not with Simple Sally Sparks, not less he was drunk as a lord and daft in his head and all other girls in the world was turned against him.

    And maybe he’s the father of more than Red and Willis. There’s a bit of him in his nephews and nieces, that’s what they say, and with a man like that, you never do know. He tried it on with me once. Jesus, he’s old enough to be my da and a few years more to him than that, and he bought me a drink in the Tally Bar when I was just eighteen. Then he just followed me into the ladies toilet, bold as bull or brass, and he said I was pretty as peaches and cream, or strawberries, his voice all husk and hiss, and he kissed me. I slapped his face when his hand touched my titties and that was as far as he got.

    I see ‘em sometimes, the whole club of ‘em. They all gather together at old man Brewster’s yard. Tommy, he’s the oldest of the kids and he’s maybe twenty already. He looks at me and it’s just the same look as old man Brewster throws my way, and Tommy licks his lips the same. He aint got the same balls as his old man, but he’s got the same eye. And Sean, he’s the looker; thin as a whistle and he’s near always without his shirt. He wears a dead snake like a kerchief wrapped ‘bout his neck, and I like him best of all. He acts like he’s one of ‘em, but underneath he’s more respectful. And there’s fat Red and fat Willis and they is just boys with boys’ dicks in their hands and they is more interest in food than girls.

    Sean Brewster, like I said he’s the looker, and he walked me home once. It was dark as duck’s arses, and I could smell Sean walking beside me, close enough his arm touched mine. He smelled clean, smelled of aftershave, something with lemons and green tea and cucumber in it. He was without his shirt, same as always, and I asked him if he wasn’t cold. He shrugged and he said he was warm enough walking next to me.

    I swear he wouldn’t have done a thing, not if I hadn’t taken the lead. That’s how respectful he is and how different. He almost turned to go when we was at my front gate. It was me as kissed him, and it was the same gentle kiss as his Uncle, old man Brewster. I reached Sean’s hand up to my titty and he just held it, soft as if he was holding a small bird in his palm. That was it. He didn’t push his luck like I wanted him to.

    And I look at him sometimes, standing in old man Brewster’s yard, and remembering that night he walked me home maybe I look at him the way old man and Tommy look at me. And I lick my lips and I touch my hair and I smile, and fuck if Sean don’t get that the smile is for him and only him.

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