Free Scaredy cat by Mark Billingham

Nicklin had gone. For a moment he was frightened, but then he heard them just outside, murmuring. He looked out through the broken window towards the embankment opposite. There was a housing estate at the top, where Smart lived, and he'd seen people emptying their bins down there, using the grassy, green bank as a rubbish tip. Shitting in it, every bit as much as Karen or Nicklin did.
    He still loved the place though. He knew where there was a foxes' earth hidden in the roots of a large oak tree. He'd once found a baby jay at the foot of the very same tree, bright blue and puffed-up, meowing like a cat, calling for its mother. He knew where to find massive blackberries and which species of butterfly were attracted by the bud that flourished all over the place, and he knew where he could find slow worms and grass snakes nesting beneath rusting sheets of corrugated iron...
    He was startled by a footstep next to him, the sound of broken glass being ground into concrete. He turned quickly to see Nicklin at his shoulder, smiling like he'd finally found something.
    'Karen wants to do it with you.' His tone, matter of fact. Palmer said nothing. Nicklin took a drag on his cigarette, waited, and shrugged. 'I'll tell her you're not up for it then, shall I?'
    'Everything?' Palmer's voice, helium-high, his breathing ragged.
    'That's what she said. She's had it with loads of blokes, done all sorts, it's not a big deal really. Probably suck you off as well...' He ran a hand across his head. His normally thick black hair had been cut suede head-short for the summer.
    'What does she want me to do?'
    'Just fuck her, mate.' Then a snort and a laugh. Nicklin's voice high too, his movements jerky. Excited...
    Palmer turned to look at him, his palm already pressing against the front of his trousers. 'No... I want to. I just mean, does she want me to go outside or will she... ? Come on, Stu... what?' Trying to force a smile. Mates together. Not scared.
    'Just get it out. She's probably got her pants off already. I'll go and get her.' Nicklin flicked his cigarette into the corner and strolled outside.
    After a few seconds, Palmer could hear him round the side of the building, whispering to Karen. He strained to hear the noise of clothing being removed, listened for the sounds that he always imagined he would hear before sex - a moan in the throat, a catch in the breath. The only breathing he could hear was his own; rapid, desperate, unsexy, as he loosened his belt and reached for his zip. He turned away from the doorway and stared at the wall, trying to calm down. Trying not to think of the things she was going to do to him. Someone had scrawled a cock on the dusty grey breezeblocks. He looked down at his own, far less impressive member and began to rub at the red marks around his belly where his waistband had pinched. He heard movement in the doorway behind him. Her voice was almost enough to end it before it had even begun.
    'Ready then, Martin?'
    His hand had moved to his cock without him even realising it. He was moaning softly and stroking himself even as he was turning round to look at her, smiling...
    Karen and Nicklin stood in the doorway, their mouths open, clutching on to one another, waiting for the best moment to let the laughter out. Karen was the first to crack, but the laugh died almost as soon as it came out of her mouth and she looked quickly away. Nicklin began to howl, slapping his sides as Palmer had seen people do in films. Nicklin saw the look on his victim's face and spat out his scorn in between the laughs. 'Fuck, Palmer, it was a joke. I was joking...'
    Karen glanced back. 'Jesus . . .'
    Nicklin pointed at Palmer's crotch with a groan of disgust and Palmer's fist tightened instinctively around his soft, shriveled penis. Karen leaned against the doorframe. 'Jesus, Martin...'
    'You've upset her now,' Nicklin said. Karen began to cry softly and the amusement vanished from Nicklin's voice in an instant. 'You really have upset