The Irish Colleen

 The Rugby Team and the Girl in the Red Mini-Skirt

She had that Pre-Raphaelite hair, masses of it but red. Redheads are not supposed to wear scarlet but it did not matter it was part of her attraction. She sat legs crossed, elbows on the table supporting the hand with the cigarette and blowing smoke through her luscious bright, shiny red lips.  Red hair, red lips red skirt, mini of course, it was a combination the young rugby team were unable to resist. She emptied one glass and drew towards her another pint of the amber liquid which  seemed to glow with her radiance and seemed more so as it  contrasted to her dark haired, black clothed, thin companion. 

The rugby team jostled for positions. They either sat next to her or in front of her in rows of two or three like an audience. She knew very well that she was holding court and revelled in it. They hung on her every word, panted at every movement and fidgeted with desire.

Their faces were like open books. Eyes wide open in disbelief. Was she real? Would they get to touch her? Who would be the lucky one?

The younger children who previously had  had the attention of the rugby team tried to break it up by running round in and out and shouting rude comments. They soon realised that this was more important than their games. They were being ignored so they drew back and hung around the periphery watching intently and creating a second audience. 

A group of people on the deck above leaned over the veranda and watched creating an enthralled  gallery.

At this point the manager of the team arrived with a camera and the lads jumped up to pose. They surrounded the girls like background scenery and smiled and joked while the camera flashed.

The team pleased the audience and entertained them by singing coarse rugby songs, not comparably to Irish love songs but the colleen didn't seem to mind. She was coming to the end of her second or third pint and was drunk with the liquor and the adoration.

The finale occurred with her chosen one when they stood up to kiss surrounded by the sportsmen and encouraged by comments like harder, press harder, more, more,longer, longer.

The Prologue

The team made their way to the vehicle deck strutting and jostling for positions. Some still singing - not together but each alone in some sort of competition to be , to be what? Bigger, louder, more noticed, sexier? I don't think they even knew.

The two Irish colleens tottered behind them. Miss red skirt in the highest, strappiest sandals I've ever seen. Her eyes looked dulled by drink now and she clung unsteadily to her friend.

They watched as the glass door swung shut in front of them almost knocking them over. Not one of the rugby team even looked around or waved. They turned around and joined the younger children who had followed them. They smiled sadly and walked away.