10-minute reads: Disco Di - featured in The Times
Get the free free Kindle app (which you can use on any device), search 'naked novelist' on it and step out of your world and into someone else's with an intense and moving short story by Carol Muskoron...
She's getting on for seventy and she goes on the pull twice a week 'up Lazer City', - but she wasn't always known as Disco Di. Here's an excerpt from this thought-provoking, blatant short story...
'I’ve always liked sex. I remember the first time I got hot between the legs - must have been fifty years ago – best feeling in the world. Me and Perry Jones up against a tree behind the King’s Head in Stoke Newington.
I could only get the barman to serve me lemonade but Perry’d poured some of his bitter into my glass. When he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk, I thought I’d die of happiness. Off we went together, his arm round my shoulder, and all my mates beaming at me.
We walked up the road, me as snug as a bug tucked under his armpit, and when we got to the tree he stopped. And he kissed me. Full on. My knees went so weak that I swear if that tree hadn’t been there I’d have fallen over. Next his thing was digging into my belly and his hand was up my skirt. He was only rubbing me on the outside of knicks, but I felt like I was boiling over. And I didn’t want him to stop rubbing, ever.
I had a bit of pride though – didn’t let him go all the way then and there. Must have been the first and only time I ever held back. And all week long after that I was rubbing myself – in the bath, in the toilet at school, whenever I got the chance my hand was at my fanny.
‘Di! Supper’s ready! Di? Where are you?’ Every night that week I was late down to eat. Drove my mum mad it did, while I was upstairs under the bed covers, imagining my hand was Perry’s, feeling my few sparse hairs and all that glorious wetness. Where did it all come from, I wanted to know.
I lost my virginity to Perry the next week, up against the same tree after closing time. I was so wet it didn’t hurt a bit. And me and him did it on and off for years after that. I just couldn’t get enough. Plus, once Perry’d opened the floodgates, I was letting other fellas in too. Fucking was my thing – no two ways about it.
I’m sixty three now and I’m still getting it, not from Perry or my hubbie, mind. My Alf died fifteen years ago. I did without sex for five years after he went, but it’s good to be at it again. No meal to beat it, is there - even one served at The Hilton out of silver pots and under the poshest candelabras. Give me a fuck over all that any day.
I go up the disco twice a week – loads of good lookers up there. Never any other oldies but who cares. If they want to sit out the rest of their lives getting value for money out of their telly licences, that’s up to them. Me? I’m going to dance ’til I drop, and shag as many blokes as I can get my hands on. Most fellas really want the young ones of course, but young ones are harder to get than me. I’m easy. I let the fellas know it, too. Offered one a blow job while we were all standing in the queue waiting to get in the other week. He wasn’t interested, but his friend was up for it later.
’Course, they don’t always want to go the whole way. Sometimes I get a snog, or I might get my tits felt up. And if no one’s interested I just have a good old dance; next best thing to a fuck, a dance is. But lots of them will go for the fuck if you promise you won’t tell anyone. Fine by me. Everyone knows Disco Di gets it - they’re just not sure who from.
Thing is, I still look something. Anne French and Nivea – I swear by them. I can pass for forty once I’ve done my make-up. My hair’s bright blonde; classy little bob, I’ve got. My cheekbones are good – they count for a lot when you’re older. And I’ve still got my figure – slim pins, big bouncy tits. I dress up all sexy – I love a see-through blouse, a short skirt, high heels. And I tell blokes how experienced I am. ‘I could make you come in two minutes flat,’ I say. They love a woman who knows what she’s doing.'
To find out what happens buy Disco Di
Featured in Good Housekeeping: Philip the Dog
A fast-moving novel about a lawyer, a checkout girl, and a dying dog whose lives become inextricably entwined one fateful night in London.
'PHILIP THE DOG'
''Mad and in a good way' - Good Housekeeping Features:
'Terribly charming and original.' - Bloomsbury:
'Refreshingly different' -Random House
BUY PHILIP THE DOG
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