Sunday, 30 May 2021

Uncanny Love Tales – (042) Scratching an itch

 

Ben Williams and Peta Westphal were colleagues, but by no means friends, in fact they really didn’t like each other, so no one was more surprised than they were that they ended up in her Hotel room on the night of their company’s Summer Ball.

“So, that was surprising” Ben said as they lay in bed

“I can’t argue there” she agreed

“I didn’t even think we liked each other” Ben said

“We don’t, didn’t” she said and pulled a face

“Well we must like each other a bit” he suggested “On some level at least”

“Well, maybe not “like”” she said as they sat in bed drinking wine

“How does that work?” He asked

“Well it’s like this” she explained, “my work is my life, for now anyway, and I enjoy my own company, and I’m not really a sexual being”

“I can’t say I noticed that” he pointed out

“Well every now and then I get an itch that I need someone else to scratch” she confided

“And the rest of the time?” he asked

“The rest of the time I do my own scratching”

“That I’d like to see” he said, but she just gave him a look, then after another glass of wine she elaborated

“When I first met you, I knew instantly that you were a man who wouldn’t be looking for ties and I found that very attractive”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not” He said

“Be honest isn’t that what she thought when you first met me?” Peta asked

“Pretty much” Ben replied after a moment’s thought

“Good because I’m not looking for a life partner, just a “friend” with benefits”

“Oh” he exclaimed and then Peta drained her wine glass and said

“Now I think I would like another go with your scratcher”

 


SETTING SAIL

 

Though you have been

A fair wind

Billowing my sails

My heart still craves

New shores

To beach my skiff upon

And it aches

For fresh new lands

Beneath my feet

So I must go

For you deserve better

And it would not

Be fair on you

If I were to settle

For my first port of call

CATCH OF THE DAY

With my fishing line of gold,

Hook, baited with pearls

I cast into the waters

As the ebb tide swirls

To catch myself one

Of the underwater girls

And land a pretty mermaid

With seaweed in her curls

Uncanny Love Tales – (041) Still waters run deep

The village of Brocklington was about six miles downstream of the River Deighton and was where Marian Yacoub was the post mistress.

She was a rather plain middle-aged woman just the wrong side of 40, who was quite small and slim, choosing to dress in all black, and was a very stern looking woman, who rarely smiled, with Short brown hair and wire rimmed spectacles over which she peers superciliously at all and sundry.

The general consensus in the village was that she was a dried up old spinster, but Pete Smith, landlord of the Mulberry Tree, knew that still waters ran deep and that there was more to the harsh faced Post Mistress than met the eye, because she was also his mistress.

He knew what lay beneath the drab exterior of her black attire, though everyone believed she wore thick black tights, he knew she only ever wore stockings, and her underwear, when she chose to wear any, was always black and always sexy.

Pete also knew you should never judge a book by its cover and if the poisonous clique in the village knew her as he did they would have known there was nothing cold, or dried up about her, but having said that he would not want any of them to share her bed, or her heart, as he did.

 

I HAD A VIVID DREAM

 

I had a vivid dream

And you were there

Lovely as the day we met.

I smelt your perfume

It was heavenly

A fragrance so evocative

I was intoxicated

It was blessed Euphoria.

I felt your caress

Tender like the first time

It was so real

My flesh tingled

The hairs on my neck stood up.

I kissed your lips

Like I did so many times

And my heart missed a beat

Just as it always did.

I would have stayed with you

Forever in your embrace

I wanted to stay

But I was dragged away

To awake in the real world

Where you no longer reside

And I was once again alone

But for a short time

I had you back

Even if it was just a dream

But what a special dream

A priceless dream

A dream, that if I could

I would dream again and again

WHEN I FIRST MET HER

 

When I first met her

I was attracted by her looks

My first thought was not

I wonder if she cooks

But her literary inadequacy’s

One certainly brooks

She was only ever interested

In my cheque books

WHEN I FIRST MET HER

When I first met her

I was attracted by her looks

My first thought was not

I wonder if she cooks

But her literary inadequacy’s

One certainly brooks

She was only ever interested

In my cheque books