Taylor (39) is driving Jimmy (13) home after a training session at an athletics track in Oxford. Beads of sweat cling to the tiny bristles on Taylor’s top lip. His teeth are clenched. Taylor’s van is not up to much: panels at the rear, not windows. He has kit in the back: unwashed running vests and sweaty socks.
TAYLOR: Straight home or … ?
JIMMY: Or what?
TAYLOR: I have some Wurther’s Originals.
Taylor stops the car, glances in the mirror, reverses past the gateway then drives forward, turning right. The van is now off the road, hidden from other motorists. Taylor reaches into the glove box. He gropes around, finds the Wurther’s Originals, and tosses the bag onto Jimmy’s lap.
TAYLOR: Help yourself.
Jimmy takes a Wurther’s Original. He removes the wrapper then sucks on the sweet. It clatters against his teeth.
Taylor turns towards Jimmy: one foot, his right, near the pedals, the other, his left, resting on the lump where the hand brake sits. Taylor’s crotch is stitched. He has black cotton stitching along the crotch line of his tracksuit bottoms. Jimmy stares at the stitching. Taylor notices. He grins.
Taylor discards his tracksuit top revealing a white tee shirt with sweat marks under the arm pits, on the neck line and on the chest. With his right hand Taylor then reaches towards Jimmy’s lap. Taylor takes a sweet from the bag.
TAYLOR: Another, Jimmy?
Taylor unwraps the Wurther’s Original, tossing the cellophane wrapping into the rear of his van. Jimmy is still sucking on his first sweet. He shakes his head.
TAYLOR: Oh come now, Jimmy. Try two. Two at once. You can manage that, can’t you?”
Jimmy shakes his head, a tad more rigorously this time, but Taylor pushes the second sweet towards Jimmy’s closed lips. Taylor tries to prise Jimmy’s lips open with the sweet. Behind his lips, Jimmy’s teeth are tightly shut. Taylor gives up. He pops the sweet into his own mouth.
TAYLOR: We could exchange sweets … you know, lips together, mouths open, tongues pushing, sweets exchanged. Bit of fun. Easy peasy.
JIMMY: But your lips are all sweaty!
TAYLOR: Salty, I bet. A Wurther’s Original with added salt. Yum yum.
JIMMY: That’s disgusting.
TAYLOR: Oh come on, Jimmy. Give it a try.