Housewarming

We finally moved out of Raven's parent's house into our own one bedroomed flat in a far less affluent area. The inevitable housewarming party eventually landed.

***

Saturday 8 April 1978 - 8.30pm, or thereabouts

The fruits of our labours lay under the tablecloth on the kitchen table, mini sausage roles, sandwiches with various fillings, odd looking spicy parcels called samosas from the Indian shop in town, biscuits, little butterfly cakes; something for everyone. We'd even splashed out on a couple of party-sevens, and some cans of cheap lager.

At around eight, the first guests arrived; my good friend, Steph and her longtime boyfriend, Little Dave. Steff had dressed as usual in a figure-hugging Jersey midi dress, spoilt by the outline of her bra and knickers, as usual; she had a full bottle of vodka. Dave carried a pile of cans.

"Jesus, Steff. You pushed the boat out."

"Well, it is your first social event in your first proper home," she replied

"Barely. Looks like it hasn't been decorated since the war."

"First world war," Jay butted in.

"It's got what you might call character," said Dave, passing us a card in an envelope.

"Still," I said, "we've got our own front door, even if it is only the ground floor of a Victorian terrace in Seaforth."

"They'd have been posh when Victoria was alive," Dave offered.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Jay left us and returned with Pam and Richard. Richard was in his usual scruffy jeans and tee-shirt. By contrast, Pam sported an oversized Who tee-shirt, which was pulled tight and tied in a bow under her armpit, accentuating one perfect tit. Her nipples had entered the room before she did, as they strained to pierce the cotton. Punctuating her tight abdomen, her prominent belly button jostled for superiority. Barely holding in her pubic bush, the waistband of her cut-down denims hung on the bony protrusions of her hips, and stretched enough to leave the tiniest of gaps between it and the skin of her belly. Cut in a deep V from her hips to her crotch, the denim stretched so tight that it cleaved her vulva, the shape of which was certainly obvious. It certainly put my regular full-length kaftan firmly in the category of dowdy old maid.

Jay, of course, was transfixed. I caught his eye.

"Erm, very fetching fashion," he said.

"Yes," I said. "Are you going back to fetch the rest?" I spotted Little Dave staring as well.

"You should try letting your hair down a bit, San," Pam fired back.

"If I'm going to let my hair down, I'd rather it be that on my head rather than pubes poking out of my hot-pants."

"What?" She looked down and felt her crotch to make sure. "They're not."

"More by good luck than good planning." She glared at me. "I'm kidding. I'm just jealous that I can't dress like that."

"Of course you can."

"It's easy for you to say, being such a skinny bitch."

"Saucer of milk, anyone?" Dave chimed in.

"Ha ha!" I said. "Let's get a drink."

Steph and I followed Pam to the kitchen to deposit the alcohol. Pam took a couple of cans back for her and Richard.

"Bloody hell, San," Steff said when Pam was out of earshot. "She may as well be naked."

"She likes to arouse."

"She can't be wearing knickers under there."

"We should ask her."

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me. And on the subject," I paused.

"What?"

"That dress is really sexy."

"Thanks, San."

"But it's spoiled by the outline of your bra and knickers."

"I couldn't possibly."

"You have got a better figure than Pamela. Of course you can."

"No. I mean, I couldn't."

Believe me, it will feel so much better."

"Maybe sometime."

"By the end of the night." I said. "I'll take you out of that bra."

"Not a chance."

"Steph, take a look at me. Do you see any outline of a bra?"

"No. But..."

"But nothing. If I can go without, you can."

"Hey, ladies!" I looked at the door and Big Dave had entered.

"Hey, you!"

"Looking as gorgeous as ever. Both of you."

"Thanks," Steph and I said in unison.

"But, erm," Big Dave stared at Steff, "you need to lose the bra."

Steph blushed. "Behave." She turned and walked out.

Big Dave walked further into the kitchen and put down his cans and a bottle of Bacardi. Behind him walked a blond biker girl in what looked like new leathers, including heavily studded jacket and trousers. Knee-length boots completed the ensemble.

"With you?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, and offered no further information, so I walked out with a can of lager.

Back in the main room, a few more had arrived, including Suzie and Dennis from the old place. I walked across to Steph. "Hey, kid," I said as I nudged her. "Watch."

I turned to Pam. "Pam," I said.

"What?" she replied.

"I know you're not wearing a bra under that shirt."

"Is it that obvious?"

"No. No, really." My sarcasm matched Pam's. "But, surely you can't be wearing knickers under there."

"San!" Steph elbowed me.

"Actually," said Pam, "I am. But not the granny panties you wear. It's called a thong." She unbuttoned her shorts and pulled down the zip to show me, and everyone else. No pubes showed; she'd been trimming.

"Fucking hell, Pam." I said. "Put it away. I was only curious."

"Now you know," she said, while buttoning up again. "They're a new fashion. So new, no one has heard of them. Watch. Five years' time, everyone will wear them."

"But not everyone will flash them," said Steph.

"Well, you could do with loosening up and getting rid of that bra."

"As if!" Steph shot back.

"Hey San." I turned to see Larry with a bottle of vodka in his hand. "Where's the mixers? Orange Juice? Pineapple."

"Oh, shit. I forgot. I'll go get some."

"I'll go," said Jay.

"No! It's okay. You carry on drooling over Pam." I retrieved my purse and rushed out, colliding with Rory.

"Where are you off to?" He asked.

"Off licence. I forgot the mixers."

"I'll go for you."

"No. Honestly. Go in. Have fun."

***

I arrived back to a much fuller flat than I'd left. Music was playing from the mixed tape we'd put together during the week; George had lent us a spare tape recorder he had. I dropped all the mixers in the kitchen and returned to the front room. I stopped dead as I spotted a woman in the corner. Tall and blond, her attire was strong competition for Pam's. A zip-up, knitted, green cardigan was open to her navel; she wore nothing under it. Below that, a mini-skirt, the kind of which I hadn't seen since Twiggy was popular, highlighted tanned thighs, which were half covered in leather from the mile high boots. Anger bubbled from the pit of my stomach. What the fuck was this woman doing here?

"What the fuck are you doing here, Lily?" I shouted.

"That's a fine way to greet your best mate," she retorted. "And it's Lilith now. I've grown up."

"Ex-best-mate!" I spat. "I think you need..."

"Hey!" The familiar voice came from behind me. "She brought me."

"And what the fuck are you doing here?"

"It's my sisters's house warming!" said Janine, my not-quite-seventeen-year-old sister.

"You're fucking sixteen. I don't want you here."

"Oh, fucking ease up on her, grandma," said Lillian, my former best friend and Jay's ex-lover.

"Hey. I'll behave." Janine grinned at me, eyes pleading.

"If I get so much as a hint that you have sipped alcohol, or anyone tries to touch you, you'll both be out so fast your feet will spark."

I turned back to the woman who now calls herself Lilith. "And you can fuck right off."

"Hey, hey." I turned as Jay grabbed my elbow. "Grudges will just eat you up. You loved each other once."

"And you stole my boyfriend." Lilith piped up.

"I did not steal your boyfriend. You'd well chucked him out of your life..."

"You shagged him first, though!"

"Sandra! Did you?" said my sister.

"Jinni. Go to the kitchen. You shouldn't hear this."

"I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Okay. While she was still going out with Jay, she was seeing Stevie Smith." I turned to Lilith. "And that's why I went with Jay. And that's why we fell out!"

"San!" Jay shouted. "Is that true?"

"Shit. Jay." I said. "You weren't supposed to find out like that."

"And you kept it from me?"

"I didn't want to see you hurt."

Jay stormed out. I turned to Lilith. "Less than five minutes! The trouble you caused."

I followed Jay to the kitchen. "What the fuck! Did you have something to do with that?"

"No, I fucking didn't."

"The fucking state of her. Like she's not getting shagged tonight! Dressed like a street tart."

"Get off you fucking high horse, San. You knew she was screwing someone else and kept it from me."

"Hey, hey! Cool it dudes." I turned to the voice. Zeb had appeared sucking on a joint. "It's supposed to be a happy time. Out of the clutches of the landlady from hell, in your own flat. Cool it. Smile."

"He knew she was coming," I said. The fumes reached my nostrils.

"No, I didn't. She never told me my girlfriend was shagging a mate."

"Who. The chick with the legs?" said Zeb.

"Yeah. Lily."

"Is she still your girlfriend?"

"Of course not."

"Then chill, brother. No harm done."

"She lied."

"She kept something from you. I'm sure she had reasons."

"What?"

"Would you have believed her?"

"You'd have hated me for stirring up trouble," I added.

Jay responded. "So you lured me to bed!"

"Didn't take much seducing as I remember."

"Guys," Zeb interrupted. "Troubled water under the bridge. All gone. You love each other. That's all that matters now."

"Hmph!" Jay said and walked out.

"That bitch has to go." I said.

"Hey, pussy cat. Take the higher ground. She's no more a threat than you allow her to be. Don't be that woman. The jealous girlfriend. Take a draw on this." He offered me his joint.

"You do talk sense sometime." I pulled on the joint. The hit surged through me as soon as the smoke hit my lungs.

"Yes I do." He pulled me into a hug. "Now, go have a good time. Like you always do."

***

I returned to the living room, large vodka and orange in hand. Lilith hadn't moved, but Storm had sidled up to her. "Why have my friends been keeping such a stunning beauty hidden?" He knew how to turn on the charm. I was certain he wouldn't have been so charming if she'd been dressed like me.

I looked around the room. Between Lil and Pam, they held the gaze of all the male eyes in the room. I wandered down the corridor towards the kitchen just as Janine stepped out of the bathroom.

"Let me smell your breath," I said.

"You're not my mum, you know."

"Yes, but I bet she doesn't know you're at a party. At mine. With all my randy mates and lots of booze."

"Of course she does."

"You sure?"

"No. Don't be daft."

"Okay," I said. "Eleven o'clock, you get a taxi home. One of the lads will walk you to the phone box to call one."

"Eleven..."

"You can go now, if you want."

"Okay."

"So, who are the two slags with Lily?"

"San!"

"Okay. Who are the two women with her?"

"Well, the other blonde is Jill."

"What? Little Jillie? Her sister.

"Yes."

"God! She's grown. Where did those t... where did those boobs come from? Should she even be here?"

"She's a lot older than me, you know."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot. Who's the other one?"

"Mate of Jill's."

"Gate crashers!"

"Suppose."

I supervised Janine making an orange and lemonade for herself and accompanied her back to the party. My ex best mate had sat on the arm of the settee, legs crossed. She would flash her crotch if she uncrossed them. A couple of men were staring in hope. She reached across to take someone's joint, allowing her cardigan to gape open. How the fuck could I compete with that? I thought.

Denis chatted with Pam and Rich. Well, he was intent on Pam, and Richard was a spare. Little Dave and Steph had sat on the folded up mattress; of course, he was staring intently at Pam's crotch.

"You should try letting your hair down a bit, San." Pam's words echoed through my brain, along with the Leb I'd just smoked. I took a gulp of vodka and orange and returned to the kitchen for a top up.

"Jesus. Have you seen what that bint is wearing?" Denis had walked in behind me.

"You mean almost wearing?"

"Yeah. Tits are almost out."

"I assume you mean the one with the legs up to her neck and thigh-high boots."

"Yep. That's her."

"Jay's ex."

"Really? Jay went out with that?"

"Thanks, Denis. That really makes me feel good about myself."

"Sorry, San. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay. I'm used to being the ugly duckling."

"You know the thing about the ugly ducking? She was really a beautiful swan."

"Yes. She was." I took my drink and walked out. I peeled off into the bedroom, where I sat on our bed, which was another mattress on the floor. The light from the kitchen reflected around the backyard and spilled over through the bare window, into the bedroom, casting a warm glow on the wall. I pondered for a while, stared at my reflexion in the mirror against the wall, and looked down at my Mama Cass Kaftan. The images of Pam and Lilith kept buzzing across my mind.

"You know the thing about the ugly ducking? She was really a beautiful swan." Denis's words reverberated. I looked at the clothes rack in the corner, at the collection of Jay's shirts. I swigged back a mouthful of alcohol, stood and walked to the table lamp, which stood on the floor, turning it on to allow a bit more illumination, then to the rack.

Jay had collected some lovely shirts over the years, and some hideous ones. He rarely wore any of them. I breathed in the smell of my lover, and pulled down a purple satin shirt, which no straight man had worn for years, though I would; I hung it back. The purple and lilac paisley was too hippy for punk 1970s. I rather fancied the orange paisley, but left it on the rack. Holding a scarlet satin shirt at arm's length, I turned to the light, held it against me. I smoothed the fabric over my tits and down to the hem, which rested a little above my knees.

Stripping down to my knickers, I slid my arms into the sleeves, buttoned it all the way up and tried to look in the mirror. It needed tilting, but the reflection was quality. It looked good, but something was missing!

Rummaging through a drawer, I found Jay's broad, studded leather belt. It had been a peace offering from Big Dave. I buckled it up around my waist, over one hip with the loose end dangling. With the belt tightened, the hem hung halfway down my thighs. Deciding the sleeves would look better short, I rolled them up to just below my elbows.

I lifted the mirror onto the chest of drawers and looked at the effect. In the subdued light. Sandra, I thought, you look so much better. Even more so once I'd taken my ponytail down. Almost, I thought, and unbuttoned the shirt, right down to the belt, opening it up into a V shape and folding back the impractically large collar to make impractically large lapels, thus revealing what might have been cleavage had my tits been firm and pert. Take that, bitch, I thought.

I put the mirror back on the floor, glimpsing my tits' reflection as I did. Nice! As it tilted, my satin French-knickers reflected from under the shirt. They don't go with the shirt, I thought, so I removed them. I didn't replace them.

Rummaging through another box, I found my only pair of heels - well, those legs did nothing for stilettos normally. The shoes were white strap backs, a modest three inches tall; what Germain Greer would later tell us to call FMs. Though the term had been around at least when Marilyn Monroe was alive, it was not commonly known in reserved British circles. I practiced in them from time to time so I was ready for an event that required them - like a Jay and Sandra house warming party with stunningly attractive gatecrashers.

I wasn't so practiced that I could stand on one foot to fasten the shoes, so I sat on the bed. As I raised a knee to reach, I caught the reflection under Jay's shirt. Oops, I thought. Must remember not to sit on that mattress; I considered finding suitable underwear, but I felt naughty. As I looked in the mirror, it struck me that something was missing. Aha! Make-up! It took a while to find my bag of bits, but I did. I kept it subtle; you know, the sort of application that makes people realise you're looking different, but not sure how. I turned off the light.

I pulled open the living room door, leaned my back against the frame, one foot against the jamb, and sipped my drink while staring into the room. One by one, the eyes turned to me.

"Fucking hell, girl," said Rory. "Where have you been hiding, Mrs Hyde?"

"Sandra," Steph said as she looked up. "You look... Different."

"The swan has emerged," said Dennis.

Pam walked up to me, slid her hand around my neck and flicked up my hair. "Sandra, you let your hair down. You look stunning." She leaned in and whispered. "You go show that two-timing bitch."

"Thank you, Pam," I said. "That's unexpected, but it means a lot from you."

"Any time, girl."

Jay left his conversation with his ex-shag and walked over to me. "What are you doing?"

"Letting my hair down." I almost spat the words at him.

"I'm not complaining, but... Wow! You look fabulous in that. Who'd have through my shirt could look so sexy? You might want to fasten a couple of buttons, though."

I grinned and walked into the room. I'd made my play.

***

"That shirt would look lovely at the bottom of my bed, darling." The voice came from behind me.

"Fuck off!" I spun around to look right into Larry's massive eyes. Three-inch heels give a short girl an advantage sometimes.

"Fucking hell San. I didn't realise it was you. You look..."

"Sexier?"

"No! I mean, you always look sexy. You're just... have you got make-up on?"

"Thought I'd try a change of image."

He tried to look into my shirt. "It suits you."

"My face is up here, sunshine," I said, lifting his head by the chin.

"Yeah. Sorry. I just... Oh, fuck." He looked around. "Storm! How ya doin' man?" He walked away to strike up a conversation with Storm.

"Here, kid. Have a blast on that." Big Dave offered me another spliff.

"I'd better not. Already had a drag on Zeb's and a couple of stiff vodkas."

"It's not the only stiff thing you'll get, dressed like that."

"Dave! I'm happily attached."

"And you have a special agreement."

"How the fuck...?"

Dave tapped the side of his nose and walked away. I went to the kitchen for a drink to find more guest.

"Well, hello Sandra." The dark brown American voice came from Bram's mouth. The gorgeous Athena stood next to him, arm around his waist.

"Hello you guys. Glad you could make it." Bram and Thena were the only Black people I'd ever met at that point. My end of Liverpool was very white. Bram was from the Bronx and had never lost his accent. Thena was born in Oxford and spoke with a quintessentially English accent. I hugged them both.

"I'm here too, you know." Raven, dressed as usual in black, with black hair, and black and purple make up, seemed to blend in the shadows.

"Raven!" I hugged her like a best friend. "Sorry."

"Hey, girl. You'd better move away or I might start remembering my time at the girl's school." I moved back. "Jesus, San. I've never seen you looking so..."

"Tarty?"

"I was going to say sexy."

"Yeah thanks."

"What's with the butterfly?"

"Sorry. What?"

"You know. Emerging from your cocoon."

"Jay's ex is here dressed like a hooker. So I thought I'd bring out some competition."

"I love it."

"And who are you?" I addressed an unfamiliar red head who was smoking a joint.

"Oh, I came with Larry."

"He never said he was courting." Not while he was trying to seduce me, he didn't.