Date: Wed, 29 Jun 2011 21:12:25 +0100 (BST)
From: Mark Mcd <maninnotts@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Scally Simon 16

Once again Simon was woken by his mother knocking at the door.

"Simon! Me and your father are going out."

"OK. Where are you going?"

"Steve and Ann's. They're having a dinner party. Could be quite a late
one. Your brother is at Jake's, so you'll be on your own. You slept in your
clothes again? I think that tracksuit has become part of you!"

Simon blushed. It would take a while to get used to wearing his tracksuit
around and about, especially one so eye-catching. It would be a bit longer
before he could wear his other tracksuits as he didn't want to reveal too
many too quickly. He thought he could probably get away with his black
tracksuit bottoms though. He glanced at his phone: it was 7.30 and there
was a message from Nick asking what he was doing that night; he replied
telling him that he had a free house and invited him to come over. He
hadn't spent any time with Nick for about a week which was unusual as they
were close friends. Nick was definitely not a scally; he was solid
middle-class, did pretty well at school even though he was lazy for
appearances sake, and tended to wear jeans and a t-shirt or a hoody, but
definitely not sportswear. He did smoke, but not much, and it was more to
do with portraying an image than anything else. This left Simon with a
decision to make as to what clothes to wear; should he wear his tracksuit
and face Nick's comments, or play it safe and change into his jeans and
t-shirt? He decided to hedge his bets and changed into his black tracksuit
bottoms and Nike hoody; it was still sportswear, but wasn't as extreme as
his shiny PSG or white tracksuit. Whilst thinking about his white
tracksuit, he realised that it was probably a good time to put it through
the wash without his mother noticing; he could have it washed and drying
before she came home. He could also wash his PSG tracksuit at the same
time. He stripped off and changed into his black bottoms and hoody before
bundling the PSG and white tracksuit into a ball and placing them in the
washing machine; he selected the quick wash option and then returned to his
bedroom to roll a joint. As far as he knew, Nick didn't smoke pot, so it
would be a good idea to roll a few and have a smoke before he arrived. This
done, he headed out to the back garden and enjoyed looking at his
reflection in the window as he smoked the joint, savouring every drag as
the cannabis hit his lungs and the drug passed through his bloodstream to
the brain. His phone signalled a message: it was from Nick who had just got
off the bus.  Simon returned to his bedroom and waited.

The doorbell rang and Simon went to let Nick in. He caught Nick glancing up
and down as he took in what Simon was wearing; Simon wasn't sure what he
thought, but he was sure that Nick didn't entirely approve. He'd never seen
Nick wearing tracksuit bottoms, and the only hoodies he wore were
non-sportswear. In addition, he was usually highly critical of the scallies
as was Simon when in the presence of his friends, although usually somewhat
less scathing, so wearing tracksuit bottoms and a hoody himself felt quite
brave.

"Shall we go for a smoke?" asked Simon.

"Sure."

They headed outside and Simon pulled out his Camels, offering one to Nick
at the same time.

"What the fuck are they?"

"Camel non-filter. I picked up a carton of 200 pretty cheap. I actually
quite like them."

Nick took one and accepted a light from Simon. He pulled on it the same way
he would on a Marlboro Light, his usual brand, and was rewarded with a huge
shot of unfiltered smoke which immediately irritated his throat.

"Whoa! These things are strong!"

"Yeah, just the way I like them!"

"Take a bit of getting used to. I'll stick to the Marlboro Lights for now I
think. You always liked the stronger fags anyway."

They finished their cigarettes and headed back inside. Simon was aware of
the noise his tracksuit bottoms were making as he walked; although he tried
to minimise the sounds by walking with his legs slightly apart, the noisy
nylon could not be completely silenced, so it still swished as he walked
although to a lesser degree than normal.

"Fancy a drink?" asked Simon as they reached the living room.

"Sure, why not?"

Simon opened his parents' drinks cupboard and pulled out a bottle of
vodka. He was still a little unsteady from his earlier drinking, so maybe
some more vodka would make him feel a little better. He poured generous
measures for Nick and himself and they headed to his bedroom.

"Cheers!" said Simon as they clinked glasses and then drank deeply. Simon's
stomach still felt rather queasy, and was not immediately happy with the
new infusion of alcohol; he felt a slight pain in his stomach as it
complained about the renewed onslaught, but this was soon numbed by the
alcohol. He decided that he would test Nick's reaction and roll a joint; he
pulled out his papers and proceeded to crumble the cannabis into the
tobacco; Nick was trying to appear cool, but could not help watching.

"I didn't know you smoked pot."

"I do now and again. Makes me feel really relaxed. Have you tried it
before?"

"A couple of drags at a party, but that's it!"

Simon made sure to add a lot of cannabis to the joint and they headed back
outside, his tracksuit bottoms swishing as they walked. He lit the joint
and took three big drags, almost gagging on the strength due to the amount
of cannabis he had added. He took two more gentle drags and handed it to
Nick who puffed cautiously. Nick was not as used to the drug as Simon and
felt his head spinning slightly with the mix of alcohol and cannabis fairly
quickly, so he took a couple more short drags and handed it back to Simon,
refusing any further offers.  Simon was quite happy to finish it alone and
enjoyed the increasing stoned sensation as the joint added to the cannabis
already circulating in his bloodstream.

"So what have you been up to lately?" asked Nick.

"Not a lot. Been studying a bit and busy with other stuff."

"You taken up going to the gym?"

"No, why?" scoffed Simon.

"Just wondering why you were wearing tracksuit bottoms. Didn't have you
down for wearing that sort of gear."

"These are my brothers. All my jeans are in the wash. Actually, they're
quite comfy."

"Very chav though."

"They're not that bad. Just a pair of black tracksuit bottoms."

"It's a slippery slope" Laughed Nick.

Simon liked Nick as a friend; they had always got along well since meeting
when starting secondary school five years ago. However, Simon had always
been aware of his own liking for sportswear and was aware that none of his
normal circle of friends felt the same way, or at least they didn't show
it. Dale and his friends on the other hand wore it like a uniform; in fact,
they wore it in place of their school uniform for much of the time. Still,
he had worn his tracksuit bottoms in front of Nick and felt that he could
do the same in future if he felt like it.  The thought of being able to
wear his favourite gear whenever he wanted made him feel horny. Of course,
what he really wanted was to be able to wear any of his gear whenever he
wanted: the PSG tracksuit, the white tracksuit. However, he didn't see that
he could ever bring himself to wear either when he was around Nick. Still,
it was a step in the right direction as far as Simon was concerned.

They sat drinking their vodka and chatting about what was happening at
school. Simon realised he'd missed quite a bit of homework due to skipping
classes towards the end of the week, so Nick was able to give him some
information as to essays and deadlines; he noted down the dates and then
decided to roll another joint which they went outside to smoke; Nick didn't
have any more however, and couldn't help but notice how hard Simon was
dragging on the joint to tease out every last bit of cannabis. He wasn't
sure whether to be impressed or worried, but figured that it was Simon's
decision and he was a wise kid who wouldn't go too far. They finished some
more vodka between them, by which time both teens were feeling rather
drunk, especially Simon who was really topping up from his earlier
session. He saw Nick out to the door and went back to his bedroom. The
vodka bottle was almost empty; luckily there was another in the cupboard so
he hoped his parents wouldn't notice the empty one. To make sure, he
finished it off and stuffed the empty bottle at the bottom of the bin went
he went outside for another joint. This one sent him spinning over the
edge, and it was a real effort to make it back to his bedroom; he lay flat
on the bed and fell asleep.

"Simon, we're home!"

Simon awoke with a start. According to his phone it was one AM. He felt
very groggy, the cumulative effects of the day's drinking and smoking
taking a real toll on his head which was pounding from a hangover. A
cigarette would probably help, but he'd have to wait until his parents went
to bed.

"Hi mum." Said Simon, poking his head around the door. "How was the dinner
party?"

"We had a great time. Do you want a cup of tea?"

"Yes please." It had been a while since Simon had drunk something
non-alcoholic, so it would probably help with his hangover; a paracetamol
would probably be a good thing too. He went into the kitchen where his
mother was busying herself filling the kettle and getting the cups out.

"Your father's gone to bed already; too much red wine!"

Simon laughed; he knew how he felt.

"Is that a new top?"

"Yes. I got it with the tracksuit. It was 50% off."

"Looks nice."

"Thanks."

"What did you do this evening?"

"Nick came over and we watched a DVD."

"Good. I like Nick, he's a nice lad."

They chatted idly for about twenty minutes, drinking their tea, and then
his mother went to bed.

"Don't stay up too late." Said his mother as she went into her bedroom. He
could hear his father snoring as he slept off the red wine. He waited for
about ten minutes before heading into his own room and lighting a cigarette
out of the window. He inhaled deeply, feeling the pleasure as the nicotine
hit his bloodstream causing his heart rate to accelerate and his brain to
relax. There was no denying that he was having to smoke more cigarettes to
keep his nicotine levels topped up; checking the packet that he had bought
at lunchtime he saw that only two remained. He'd smoked about thirty
cigarettes that day, including those he'd used in joints. He certainly felt
it; when drinking he naturally smoked more anyway, and the extra strain
placed on his lungs by the alcohol and cigarettes contributed to the heavy
feeling in his chest which eased once he'd smoked a couple after waking. He
decided to have one more joint before getting some sleep. Although he'd
slept earlier in the day and that evening, his body craved more as sleeping
whilst under the influence of alcohol did not seem to ease his
tiredness. He leant out of the window and smoked his joint to the roach in
double-quick time and then climbed under the covers, feeling his rock-hard
cock with his hand as he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke of his own accord at seven thirty. It was fairly light outside
but, being a Sunday, everything seemed fairly quiet. The house was also
quiet; his parents were sleeping off last night's party and no doubt his
elder brother was also still asleep as he hadn't come home by the time
Simon went to bed. His cock was pushing hard against his tracksuit bottoms,
and he rubbed his hand over the nylon material to increase the feeling of
pleasure. His chest felt congested, as was now normal after sleeping, but
felt a little easier than it had yesterday morning. He gave a little cough,
but all felt well. In his hoody pocket he still had one of the joints he
had rolled up the previous evening, so he lent out of the window and smoked
it, enjoying both the feeling of the smoke hitting his lungs and the buzz
he got from the cannabis.  He smoked calmly, letting the smoke linger in
his lungs and then exhaling a thin stream of smoke. He could feel mucus
rising in his throat as he finished the joint and flicked the remains out
of the window and gave a short cough; he felt the mucus rise a bit further,
but it was caught halfway down his throat. He coughed more sharply, trying
to shift it, but to no avail. He went into the kitchen and poured a glass
of water; this soothed his throat, but the obstruction in his throat
remained. He took two paracetamol, finished the water and headed back into
his bedroom. After leaning out of the window to smoke another cigarette he
drifted back to sleep.

"Simon. Are you getting up today?"

He checked the clock on his phone: midday.

"Yes mum."

He was feeling a little less groggy than before, but felt a lot of
congestion on his chest and he was desperate for a cigarette. Checking his
phone, he saw that he had a message from Dale asking what he was doing for
the day. Dale's mother was going to be out for the day, so he invited Simon
over to his place. Simon went into the kitchen and his heart dropped when
he caught sight of the clothes drying on the airer: his tracksuits were
both hanging out to dry. The PSG tracksuit was not a problem, but he hadn't
yet shown the white one to his family. He guiltily accepted a cup of tea
from his mother and ate a bowl of cereal. His stomach was still a little
unsettled from his escapades yesterday and it was about all he could
stomach. They chatted a little about general topics and he informed his
mother that he would be spending the day over at Nick's.

"OK dear. Remember it's Sunday, so I want you home by seven."

He went to his room and quickly sprayed some deodorant under his clothes;
he was really desperate for a cigarette and didn't want to waste time
showering. He did have time to roll a joint however, and then pulled his
black tracksuit jacket over the top of his hoody. As soon as he left the
front door he lit a Camel and paused for a moment as he took the first long
drag and inhaled the thick smoke deep into his lungs. He let it linger for
a moment before taking another big drag and taking it even deeper, giving
the smoke plenty of time to settle in his chest and deliver the nicotine
into his bloodstream. He started walking towards the park as he felt his
nicotine craving subside and took regular drags to ensure that he fed his
addiction. As soon as he reached a bench he sat down and lit the
joint. Although cannabis is not physically addictive, Simon felt that the
drug had the effect of soothing him even beyond the tobacco. Smoking his
first joint of the day had become something he looked forward to more than
his first cigarette, and the buzz it gave him brightened up his morning. A
few specks of burning hash fell from the tip and burned into his tracksuit
bottoms, but he wasn't too bothered as they were already fairly pock-marked
with small burns.

He received a text from Andy: "Got something for you on the Lacoste front;
two tracksuits. You interested? I'll send pics."

He waited for a couple of minutes and opened the two photos that Andy had
sent. His cock immediately tried to burst through his tracksuit
bottoms. The first picture was of a Lacoste tracksuit with royal blue
bottoms, and a jacket which was mostly royal blue apart from a large white
horizontal stripe which ran from the arms just above the elbow and across
the front. On the right sleeve `LACOSTE' was printed in large royal blue
letters. The second tracksuit was of the same design except in red. He
texted back to Andy that he was definitely interested in both and asked how
much they would cost.

"60 for the two" came the response. Less than half the cost if he bought
them in the shop. He figured that he could probably sell one to Conor for
sixty, so he told Andy he would take them both.

"Great. Meet me in Croydon at 4pm. Wear the butt plug and cock ring I gave
you yesterday"

When he had placed the PSG tracksuit in the washing machine, Simon had
transferred the butt plug and cock ring into the pockets of the black
tracksuit; he didn't want his mother finding those items. He'd be able to
put them on when he got to Dale's.

He forwarded the picture of the red tracksuit to Conor along with a quote
of sixty pounds and walked to the bus stop, his tracksuit swishing as he
strutted across the park. Waiting for the bus smoking a cigarette, Conor
responded and said that he would take it, which meant that Simon would get
his tracksuit for free. He was obviously very happy, looking forward to
getting his Lacoste tracksuit, and raised his hood over his head to
increase his scally appearance, his cock tenting proudly in his tracksuit
bottoms, but constrained somewhat by his boxer shorts. The bus was
relatively empty on a Sunday afternoon, and he headed straight for the back
of the top deck where he plucked up the courage to light a cigarette and
sat puffing happily as the smoke drifted past the empty seats.

He pressed the bell as the bus pulled off from the traffic lights just
before the entrance to Dale's estate and descended the stairs onto the
street. He lit another cigarette as soon as he alighted and walked along
the alleyways towards Dale's block. He was getting used to the estate by
now, and even gave a nod to one of the lads he had seen the other night as
he passed. The lift still had the familiar smell of stale urine, and Simon
was glad when the doors opened and he was able to step out into the fresh
air. He knocked on Dale's door and was greeted by a strong smell of
cannabis smoke as Dale stood there wearing his white hooded Max Ltd Nike
tracksuit. Simon loved him in that tracksuit and wanted to hug him right
there, but restrained himself, even if he could not control his cock. Did
Dale take a quick glance at his crotch as he held the door for Simon?

They followed the smell of smoke and went into Dale's room. Dale swept a
load of sportswear onto the floor and motioned Simon to sit in the chair
and make himself comfortable.

"Back in your black tracksuit I see?"

"Yeah. The other two are in the wash."

"I know that feeling. Nearly all of mine seem to be in the wash all of the
time. I guess it's because mum is either too tired from work or too drunk
to get it all done! I often have to go through the laundry and pick out the
least dirty one to wear!"

Simon thought about Dale wearing dirty sports gear and it excited him; the
thought of this teenage hunk wearing smelly kit, forcing it into his face
was enough to make him shiver with anticipation. Alas, it was unlikely to
happen. However, he did like his own gear getting dirty and had already
worn filthy gear out and about; many scallies walked around in dirty
clothes with the smell poorly disguised by generous coverings of Lynx
deodorant, just as he was wearing today. He rolled and lit a joint, smoking
it peacefully thinking it would be good to spend a day without drinking any
alcohol. He seemed to be recovering from his hangover, but was still very
tired and he could do with a break before going back to school the next
day. He had no such compunctions about smoking pot however, and rolled a
succession of joints, happily smoking them down to the roach and becoming
very stoned. Dale was engaged in a similar activity.

"Nothing like a quiet Sunday having a nice smoke." Said Dale.

"Yeah. So what happened yesterday? I was soaking when I woke up!"

"Andy said you looked real peaceful lying there, so we didn't wake you. It
wasn't raining when we left. Sorry mate; I know I should have woken you."

"That's ok. I dried out a bit later on. That white tracksuit is interesting
when it's wet though!"

"What do you mean?"

"I was walking back to the station and I could swear that the rain made it
see-through. I was paranoid that people were looking at me!"

They probably were, thought Dale; the tracksuit was fairly see-through even
when it was dry.

"Nah mate. You were just paranoid because of the smokes!" Dale reassured
him. "Fucking awesome trackie though."

"I'm getting a Lacoste one. Andy sorted one out for me."

"Cool. Can't wait to see it. He gets some good stuff. I bet you look really
good in it."

Simon blushed and turned to rolling another joint; he lit a cigarette
whilst doing so and let it dangle from his mouth, exhaling through his nose
as he sucked smoke into his mouth.

"I'm meeting him in Croydon at about 4."

"Croydon? Yes, I've been there. It's a dump. Mind you, I can talk living
here!"

They both laughed.

"I've got five Lacoste tracksuits." Said Dale. "I fucking love them. They
make the best quality and the best colours. I'll show you some."

He started by pulling out the red one that Simon had seen him wearing. It
still looked as horny as when he'd first seen it and tried to imagine
wearing it himself.

"Want to try it?" asked Dale, as if reading Simon's thoughts.

"Yeah, why not? It looks amazing."

"One of the best in my opinion."

Simon slipped out of his tracksuit bottoms and unzipped his top, tossing it
on the floor; he tried to conceal the growing bulge in his boxers as he
pushed his leg into the red Lacoste tracksuit bottoms. He pulled them up
over his bulge, and tied the drawstring around his waist.  Next, he grabbed
the jacket and slid his hands into the arms before pulling the zip up to
his chin.

"Red really suits ya mate." Said Dale

Simon felt around the tracksuits bottoms and jacket, running his hand over
the shimmering red nylon material, his sense of touch heightening the warm
sensation in his cock as it responded to the stimulus of his favourite
material and the thought of wearing a bright red tracksuit. It wasn't as
noisy as his other tracksuits; as he moved there was some noise, but it
didn't compare to the PSG or black Nike tracksuit. What it lacked in noise,
it made up for in quality and colour however: the all-red bottoms, and red
top with large white band running from the left shoulder to halfway down
the top and along the right arm was very distinctive; the left arm was red
and the right arm white. The contrast was stark, and he knew that it would
make people look at him as he walked down the street in the same way he
couldn't resist looking at Dale when he was wearing it. He sat down and
rolled a joint whilst Dale rummaged around in his wardrobe a bit more.

He finished rolling and lit up, wiping some ash from the tracksuit bottoms
as a burning ember of paper fell from the tip. As he did so he noticed a
few small burns where burning hash had clearly fallen from joints and
smouldered around the crotch area melting the easily burnt material. That
was why the labels all said "Keep away from fire". He was careful not to
add to the burns, making sure that he leaned forward as he dragged on the
joint, savouring the smoke as it tickled his throat and numbed his
brain. He was getting nicely stoned; it was unusual to be smoking without
drinking at the same time and it seemed an ideal way to while away a Sunday
afternoon.

Dale emerged from his cupboard with another Lacoste tracksuit.

"Haven't worn this one for a while." He stated, holding it up for Simon to
see.

It was composed of white bottoms, and an orange and white jacket. The
design was similar to the red one he was currently wearing, with the orange
taking the place of the white on the red one. Dale removed his white
tracksuit and pushed his feet into the white tracksuit bottoms, and then
zipped up the jacket.

"What do you think?"

"Very cool." Responded Simon. It didn't look as good as the red one in his
opinion, but he loved the bottoms which were pure white, although not at
all transparent as the Lacoste material was of a high quality and hence was
thicker. He passed the joint to Dale and lit another cigarette.

"So you like the red tracky then?" asked Dale.

"Yes. It's fucking wicked."

"You look great in it. Can't have it though! It's one of my favourites."

Simon tried not to look disappointed. He hadn't expected Dale to give it to
him, but hearing it confirmed left him feeling slightly deflated.  He
consoled himself by lighting a cigarette and set about rolling another
joint.

"That's cool mate. Can't expect you to give away your gear! Anyway, I'll
have my own Lacoste tracky later." Simon's mood brightened as he remembered
this, taking a huge drag on his unfiltered Camel and exhaling through his
nose. He took another large drag and added "I think the one Andy is getting
for me is very nice."

"Never thought I'd hear a non-scally say something like that! Lacoste
trackies are about as scally as it gets, especially the bright ones."

"Hey, I can like them without being a scally can't I?" joked Simon. "The
orange and white one isn't as good as this one though. I like the white
bottoms, but the orange doesn't look as good as the red I think."

"Yeah, I love white bottoms too. I got the red one after this, which is why
I don't wear this so much. Although, I sometimes wear the white bottoms
with the red top."

Dale searched through the extensive selection of sportswear in his wardrobe
once again, this time pulling out another Lacoste tracksuit with white
bottoms. This time, the top was white on the bottom half, and black on the
top with a royal blue stripe between the white and black which extended
down the arms. On the back, at the top of the white section, LACOSTE was
embroidered in large letters. He unzipped the orange top, and pulled on the
new one before performing a twirl for Simon.

"That's awesome." Said Simon. He loved the royal blue colour, and the white
bottoms really made it stand out. He packed three large drags of the joint
into his lungs and handed it to Dale before starting to roll another. Dale,
mimicking Simon's style, drained the joint quickly, stubbed it out, and
then went back into his wardrobe. He pulled out yet another Lacoste
tracksuit, this time all royal blue. Simon loved the colour; even in the
dim light of Dale's smoky bedroom it was very eye-catching. Wearing it on
the street would catch all sorts of looks from other people. He lit the
joint he had just finished rolling and checked his watch: 2.30; time to
smoke another joint and then head to the station. He watched Dale change
into the blue tracksuit as he licked the gum on the rolling paper, inserted
the roach, and lit the joint. His cock hardened as Dale pulled on the
jacket and pulled up the zip; he looked magnificent!

"It's awesome isn't it?" said Dale

"Yeah, really cool."

"The material is a bit different from the other Lacoste trackies as well;
it's a bit rougher. Have a feel."

Simon didn't need telling twice and moved over to Dale and felt his wrist
covered in the rough polyester material. He was right, it was different,
and in a good way too. He got a real thrill from feeling Dale through the
material; his cock hardened even more and he had to adjust his position
slightly to try and prevent it pushing against Dale's thigh.

"The material perforated with tiny holes as well" said Dale, "around the
shoulders and back. Look." Dale motioned towards his upper chest and Simon
ran his hand along his upper torso, easing slowly along feeling something
like electricity as his sensitive finger tips felt along Dale's body. He
took a drag on his joint and handed it to Dale before resuming his previous
seat.

"Got to head off in a minute." Said Simon.

"OK. Fancy a hit on the bong first mate?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Dale prepped the material for the bucket bong, and carefully lit the
tobacco and cannabis mix on the foil, before motioning Simon down to take a
drag. Simon leant over, his tracksuit jacket running up his bottom as he
did so, and placed his mouth over the entrance to the bottle. He inhaled
sharply as he pushed down on the bottle, feeling the thick smoke packing
his lungs with an intensity he had never felt before. However, the smoke
was cooled by the water, so it did not irritate his throat and lungs. He
stood back from the bottle and sat down again before releasing a vast cloud
of smoke which surprised him as it kept coming even after several
exhalations. Then, the cannabis hit him; it was a much more intense high
than from smoking joints alone, and his head felt very heavy. He lit a
cigarette and inhaled sharply, hardly feeling the unfiltered smoke as it
travelled down his throat and into his lungs. He was definitely feeling a
bit sleepy now and decided to have another joint before leaving. He
completed rolling and lit up before rolling up another three for later
on. Having finished smoking half of his joint, he gave the rest to Dale and
the announced that it was time to leave.

"OK mate, see you later. Don't forget to get changed!" Said Dale.

Simon had forgotten he was wearing the red tracksuit; he quickly changed
into his black tracksuit, pulled up the hood and waved goodbye as he left
the flat and made for the bus stop.

Whilst walking, he couldn't help but think back to feeling Dale in his
tracksuit; the tracksuit itself was a real turn-on for him and would have
made him feel very horny, but the fact that it was Dale he was feeling had
almost sent him over the edge. There was no doubt about it, he had strong
feelings for Dale and longed to get to know him intimately. He dressed as a
scally, as did Andy, but Dale was different: rough-edged, but he was a nice
guy underneath. Andy was ok, but he couldn't help but feel that Andy was
using him for his own purposes, although he did of course get something in
return. He absent-mindedly smoked two cigarettes whilst waiting for the bus
and was still lost in thoughts about Dale as he got off at London
Bridge. He checked the departures for Croydon, and saw a train leaving in
three minutes.  He dashed through the station and rand to the platform,
fumbling with his oyster card as he came to the barrier. With a final rush,
he boarded through the last door just as a beeping sound announced the
closure of the doors. He slumped in a seat to catch his breath. His young
teenage chest rose and fell as his lungs struggled to provide enough oxygen
following his unusual exercise. His breathing was hoarse and sounded a
little wheezy due to the high levels of smoking over the recent days, and
he was sweating fairly heavily despite the weather being cold. After a
while he settled down with a few coughs and relaxed in the seat, feeling an
urgent need for a cigarette.