THE HUNTING PARTY.
(1200 words)
I remember distinctly the first time I felt really envious of him. I'd always been a little envious. But here he was using the word that women are universally supposed to hate and he was using it to flirt... and he was doing it successfully.
We were at a party thrown by one of Mike's friends. Mike was doing well for himself. He worked in banking. I'd moved into teaching. We'd only been out of university for three years but I was already feeling jaded with my choice of career. I was talking with several others about global warming, amongst other things, but was straining to hear Mike's much more interesting conversation. He'd attached himself to a woman, mid to late thirties, who was extremely attractive. She had that haughty air about her, a slightly spiteful, contemptuous look in her eyes. Only a man with extreme self confidence, or a fool, would approach this kind of women. Unattainable. I reached across to a nearby table on the pretext of getting a wine bottle, re positioning myself in the group so that I could watch, as well as listen to Mike's efforts.
'Yes, I hunt as often as I can...' the woman was saying. 'Unfortunately, the season's almost over so I'll have to revert to the gym to keep myself fit. What about you? Do you have any hobbies?'
'Oh yes,' said Mike, 'very similar to you... I love riding. Slightly different sort of riding, and the season's much longer. In fact, it lasts all year, but if you're good at it, it certainly keeps you fit.'
'Oh,' said the woman, looking rather bored, 'I'm intrigued.'
'Yes, it's the cunting season,' said mike, 'I love cunting.'
'I beg your pardon?' said the woman, plainly shocked.
'Cunting,' said Mike, enthusiastically, 'I'm an avid cunter.'
He held up his hand to prevent any possible expression of outrage.
'Let me explain,' he said, looking directly into the woman's eyes.
The woman didn't seem to know how to react but she held Mike's friendly eyes, interested in a conversation which was so out of place in this middle class setting... and there was something about him that made his remarks unthreatening.
I was still expecting the sound of a slap.
'Just let me explain how it works,' said Mike. 'First of all to be a good cunter takes an enormous amount of practice and dedication. You don't just become a cunter overnight. If you want to be accepted as a first rate cunt member it's best to practice with one cunt for a while before trying different cunts then you get the respect of the cunt fraternity.'
Mike said all this as enthusiastically as any novice explaining a new found hobby.
I couldn't believe it, the woman started to laugh.
'How many cunts have you been on?' she said, solemnly.
'Oh not that many, I'm still a relative novice and there've been a number of cunts that have turned me down.'
'Oh, why would they do that?'
'A bit too middle class some of them, they don't think I'm good enough for them.'
'Mmmmm,' said the woman, thoughtfully, 'in my experience middle class cunts can be a bit defensive. What about foreign cunts have you tried any of them?'
'Hmm, I'm not sure whether I'm quite ready for them, I've heard they can be a bit of a hairy ride.'
The woman started giggling. She was enjoying herself.
'Do you think the more members a cunt has, the more experienced it tends to be?'
'I'm not so sure. I think it depends on the enthusiasm of the individual cunt.'
'And when you say you have to be fit, how fit do you have to be?'
'Ah, well again, there are no set rules. I would say the fitter the better. For instance I joined a new cunt last week and it seemed I was riding forever. But having said that, some of the old cunts expect a lot more of you, and while they admire enthusiasm they also respect technique.'