Now, you'll obviously have read my previous tale, so you will have been looking at all those notsodropdeadgorgeousshedoesn'tlookslikeafilmstargirls with a more nuance eye; basically will they shag? And the answer is often yes. An example: although in this case it didn't get as far as it might have, in those days HL was fit and well and we were trying to emulate rabbits. Ah me, those were the days! But to continue, a small town newspaper office with two girls, one plump and plain dark haired, the other slim and blonde, although no raving beauty, but as I have said, how few women are. The dark haired girl comes to the counter and I start to talk to her. The other girl has seen me, but like I say, I'm no Adonis so she keeps working. I keep talking to the dark girl, looking her in the eye and smiling and talk turns to chat; she is reacting. The other girl notices this, and jealously flares, she knows she is more attractive and if a bloke is chatting up then she should be receiving that chat up. So she gets up and comes to help. Now, at this point you would transfer your attention to her wouldn't you? Wrong. Keep going with the other girl. Don't put the blonde down, but you can use her jealousy to give an ego boost to the target, who it turns out has nice eyes and a smile that lights up her face, as I said, they're rarely all bad. Under other circumstances this would have gone further, but sometimes you just have to leave with the thought that you could have scored. In any case the dark haired girl got an ego boost and that's no bad thing.
It was a while after the end of the last tale that I got to chat to a very pretty girl. We had some campers in the field and I was in my workshop finishing off a project that Her Loveliness had instigated. There must be, she told me, a market for shepherds' huts. When HL makes a suggestion I usually act on it, particularly when I am skating on thin ice over the rather unfortunate pregnancies of Ruth, Louise and Joan, for which, you may recall, I had some responsibility. HL works on the principle that once is happenstance, twice is coincidence and the third time is just plain silly, and she may well be right, but I felt that it wasn't a good idea to push my luck. So a shepherd's hut was having the finishing touches applied.
I was in fact finishing painting the external boarding when I felt a presence behind me. I turned round and there was the prettiest girl you have ever seen. She had curly blonde hair, the cutest elfin face with a turned up nose and wore a long summer frock and flip flops. She stood about forty to forty-five inches high and was all of six years old. Okay, maybe seven.
"Hello," I said, smiling.
"'Lo," she replied after a moment's hesitation and with a very serious expression.
"My name's Roger," I went on, "what's your name?"
"Elle," she smiled shyly.
There was a pause.
She digested this.
"It's a Shepherd's hut."
She looked at it.
"Yes, they always have wheels."
She was silent for a moment, and then we heard a voice calling 'Elle', and a moment later something much more to my taste appeared. She was a size eighteen, perhaps a twenty at a guess, a cuddly female if I ever saw one and with the kind of pretty face that only well built girls can have, apple cheeked and curvy, almost a Lucy Attwell drawing, but grown up of course. Dark wavy hair past her shoulders and a long summer frock similar to Elle's.
"There you are sweetheart," she exclaimed.
She looked at me expectantly, "She's not bothering you I hope?"
At this point Elle demonstrated manners beyond her years.
"'S Auntykate," she said. "Woger." She affected introductions.
"Hello Woger," said Auntykate with a giggle.
"Hello, Auntykate." I replied.
Throughout this exchange our eyes never left each others.
Kate was the first to break the silence.
"What is it?" she asked, indicating the shepherd's hut.
"'S a shep'd's hut," Elle told her.
"It's got wheels," said Kate.
"Yes," I said, "they do."
There was another second's silence.
"Oh there you are," said a new voice.
A blonde girl entered the workshop, which was becoming almost crowded compared with my usual solitary working. She was clearly Elle's mummy, you could see the likeness and the juvenile prettiness giving way to something, well, not quite so attractive.
"They're not bothering you I hope? Ooh! What's that? She asked, suddenly realising that we were standing in front of...
"It's a shepherd's hut," said Kate, knowledgably.
"It's got wheels," said Elle's mum.
"It's a characteristic," I said.
"They always have wheels," I replied. "So that they can be towed from place to place for the shepherds to live in."
After a brief introduction it turned out that, almost inevitably, Elle's mum was called Sarah. I sometimes think that every other girl is called Sarah. Or Sara. I knew a bloke who married one, divorced, and then married the other.
"Can we have a look inside?" asked Kate.
"'S please," said Elle.
How could I refuse? I showed them up the steps and they 'oohed' and 'aahed' about the admittedly rather Spartan interior. Kate sat on the bed.
"This feels comfy," she said, looking me straight in the eye.
I grinned, "Well, if you'd like to try it..."
"I just might..." she replied, her eyes full of promise.
I helped them down the steps and they left, Kate looking back over her shoulder, giving me a wink and a big smile. Well, a nod's as good as a wink to a blind man they say and I went back to work.
Now, I do appreciate that you probably think I'm a randy old ram but the truth is that I'd been going through a rather dry patch recently, a veritable drought to be honest, in view of the previous few months, and let's face it, Kate would make a statue hard.
I'd better fill you in on what had happened since HL discovered about the slightly pregnant ladies. Three of them, and to be honest rather more than slightly pregnant.
The first thing she did was take Joan into town with her to meet Ruth and Louise. I never did find out what happened at that meeting, neither HL or Joan would tell me, and the girls just dissolved into fits of giggles, rolled their eyes and said things like 'wouldn't you like to know'. Well, yes actually, I would. I don't think there was anything other than an agreement, or understanding between them which certainly wasn't to my benefit, and I wondered if I could get at the girls' computer, knowing those two they almost certainly recorded whatever it was.
I was able to um ... take care of the girls up until they gave birth, within minutes of each other of course, and great fun was had by all during that time. Mother, Joan, too, was active until the last moment, about a month later so that was okay. Ruth and Louise had given birth to a boy and a girl, Maxine and Maxwell. I told them it was daft and would cause problems but would they listen to me. Nah. I can never remember which way round they are and to be honest I'm not sure they can, and Joan had twin girls. Yes, lightning does strike twice. She had heard that the next thing would probably be triplets so she had taken off for her sisters until the pill took effect, declaring that she had plenty enough children to last her the rest of her life. Probably right. After the births the girls had refused to allow me near them other than with my fingers and tongue, but Percy was definitely not allowed where he considered he belonged. The problem was that they didn't want to take the pill, and they didn't believe that condoms were safe, and they didn't want another pregnancy. Yet. Or that's what they told me. Whilst they were generous in taking care of the little fellow, to say nothing of the attraction of four milky tits, there is nothing that comes anywhere near the satisfaction of the velvet Tardis.
So with the girls out of the action and Joan away I was going a bit short. I didn't really expect anything to come of the flirtation with Kate, but as I've said before, my imagination is capable of running a full riot. And then some.
My office is over the workshop and since I like a little independence I make sure I can make coffee when I want or have a cold one if I am there in the evening. Just in case, before I went in to get supper I checked that there was a bottle of chardonnay in the fridge. Well, you would wouldn't you? After supper, as I often do, I wandered back to the workshop to review the day's work. HL was engrossed in some antiques type programme on the box and barely noticed my departure. As I entered the workshop with the daylight beginning to fade I detected a slight sound from the direction of the shepherd's hut. I went up to the office, got the wine and a couple of glasses and made my way over to the hut and up the steps to be greeted by the sight of the voluptuous Kate reclining on the bed. I set the glasses on the small table, unscrewed the top and poured the wine. I have to say I am a fan of screw topped wine bottles because they make it so much easier to abstain from drinking the whole bottle in one go. The major drawback, and I shall not believe you if you say you haven't done this, is that you naturally put the cap back on. So when you go to pour a second glass you invariably forget to remove it. And you look a right arse.
I handed a glass to Kate, gazing into her eyes as she took it.
"To you, pretty lady," I raised my glass and then sipped.
"Thank you, kind sir. But are you trying to get me drunk so that you can have your wicked way with me?"
.... There is more of this story ...