It was a typical Saturday night for Adam and his friends, as they left the packed nightclub. Their t-shirts stuck to them as they entered the cool air. Carly ran to the usual bench on the street outside. Adam and Kev sauntered over, pushing her along to sit down.
"Fuck me, I'm knackered," Kev puffed out, as he collapsed on the bench. All three of them eyeing up the exiting revellers.
"How the fuck do girls get away with wearing so fucking little?" Adam laughed.
"Cause lads are easily pleased," scoffed Carly.
Both Adam and Kev got their phones out and dialled through for a taxi. "Ten minutes," beamed Kev.
"Bastard! mine's twenty," groaned Adam.
Adam lived in the south of the city, Kev and Carly to the north. So on this bench was where they always left each other on a Saturday night.
Kev's phone pinged and he jumped up, "this is ours." They both leapt into the taxi laughing, giving Adam the finger through the window.
"Bastards," he laughed.
He checked his phone, still no text. The crowd was now slimming down with just the odd straggler and drunk. Then his phone lit up, a text message telling him the taxi was due any minute, Silver Volvo. He scanned along the road and could see the car coming. 'About fucking time,' he thought. He gave the driver his name and jumped in the back seat.
It had been a great night but he was going home alone again. He'd chatted to loads of girls but all it got him was horny and alone. He was a handsome lad, slim with long blond hair but he tended to get more double-takes from lads than girls.
"Good night, mate?" the driver asked over his shoulder.
"Yes, not bad," Adam replied, his t-shirt and underwear now damp and sticking to him.
"Been watching the girls coming out of there. Fucking hell, got my cock hard," the driver laughed. "Where are you going to, mate?"
"Oh, Formby, you know by the beachfront?" Adam answered.
