Jennifer, Jennifer
A
savoury dish
Made
in her mother’s image
To
her mother’s recipe
Just
younger and fresher
A
very delicate dish
Skin
cool white
Pale
then lips
Eyes
eager and expressive
Plump
of breast
Round
rumped
Slender
limbed
Tender
loined
Succulent
and moist
Very
definitely
A
perfect starter
When I walked into the room
I
saw her, wearing her favourite
Fleecy
dressing gown
Curled
up in the big armchair
Her
little feet tucked beneath her
And
she was hugging a cushion
Almost
as big as she
Her
tiny frame
Was
almost lost
In
the overstuffed chair
And
instantly an unabated
Wave
of love washed over me
And
I immediately wanted her
She
was such a scrawny little thing
Barely
a hundred pounds
Soaking
wet
And
I had seen her that way
Many
times
But
I loved her totally
With
every fibre of my being
We
had been married
For
ten years now
And
still she excited me
Making
love to her was electric
It
was like being plugged into the national grid
From
the first time to the last
She
was just the sexiest girl I’d ever seen
I
stood over her
And
stared down at her
For
the longest time
She
was sleeping so soundly
I
didn’t really want to wake her
I
should have let her sleep
But
she would not have thanked me
In
fact, she would have been miffed
So,
I knelt beside her
And
roused her gently
And
as she stirred from her slumber
Her
eyes opened and then widened
When
she saw me
And
she smiled me that come to bed smile
“I
waited up for you
Because
I’m feeling fruity”
So,
my sexy girl was roused and aroused
So,
I took her in my arms
And
carried her to bed
Pretty Girl on a bicycle
In
a low-cut top
Whose
baps almost popped out
I
didn’t think they’d stop
They
were such nice ones
And
they were just there
So,
what else could I do
Except
stand and stare
It
was only a brief delight
Which
I thought would suffice
She
smiled and shook her head
As
she saw me say “very nice”
Then
she rode up the road
But was back in a trice
The Finchbottom Vale nestles comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean
Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, and to the
east 15 miles inland from Sharpington-By-Sea, equidistant between the seaside
resort and Pepperstock Green was the rambling village of Brookley and at its
heart was St Mildred’s Church.
The
villager’s spiritual needs were met by its vicar Rev Cecil Payne who lived
at the adjacent vicarage with his wife Lily and their six unmarried daughters,
Chrissie, Daniela, Hazel, Heather, Katie and Elise.
For Lily her hopes involved the
grandchildren that were not forthcoming whereas Cecil just wanted them to
spread their wings, but as Easter loomed, there was no sign of either of them
getting their wish, but the power of prayer was a wonderful thing and both
parents prayed for their daughters.
The
sweetest of whom was 20-year-old Heather and the reason she was unattached was
that she wasn’t sure that there was anyone worthy enough for her give up her
good works for.
She was a shining girl, intelligent but not
academically so, but she was inclined towards an unquenchable sense of public
duty.
Not that
she didn’t occasionally take time out to look for “the one” but she failed to
locate him on the occasions when she did.
She was
arguably the prettiest of the Payne girls, in fact Heather
was very attractive but not showily so, very feminine, brunette and petite, and everyone who knew her was surprised that
she had never had a steady boyfriend and since the time in year ten at school
when she bloomed she had run the gauntlet of well-meaning friends, throwing
what they considered to be suitable candidates in her path, but she side
stepped them all.
There was something special in her nature, a
simple goodness, she believed in goodness and not surprisingly, everlasting
life and of course good and evil.
The problem
with finding “the one” was that she was too fussy, apart from him needing to be
tall and dark, “the one” needed to meet her usual criteria, handsome, kind,
loving and be true of heart.
But in addition, she was searching for someone
with a moral compass, a practicing Christian naturally, a church goer at least occasionally,
though not someone permanently on their knees, a devout man but not a pious
one.
She wanted a man who was worldly but not
tainted, attractive but not vain, masculine but possessed of modesty.
A man with good dress sense, free of tattoos
and body piercings, well mannered, and gentlemanly, definitely not someone who
drank from a bottle.
However, with every passing week Heather had
become convinced she was looking for someone who didn’t really exist.
At the beginning of Lent a new Choirmaster, Robert Perry,
arrived at St Mildred’s from nearby Sharpington after their existing music
director had a heart attack, and over the following weeks she realised that he met most, if not all, of her criteria, plus
he
was blessed with great kindness, a quality in her opinion unfailingly, underappreciated
in the modern world, which was a
quality that she had not bargained for.
But she soon dismissed him as a prospect and
cleared him off her radar, firstly because he was seven years older than her,
although that in itself was not a deal breaker, but he also spent a lot of time
away from the village and was quite secretive about where he went.
Robert too was searching, he was searching for
a woman who shared his faith and who put others before themselves, a good woman
and he had sought her all of his life and he had met several possible
contenders over the years, not unsurprisingly given the fact that he was a
significant member of the church and well respected among the ecclesiastical
music field, but the ones who caught his eye always fell short of his ideals,
so he ended up
walking the righteous path alone.
He found several members of the choir met his
criteria
and none more so than Heather but that did not
influence his decision to give her the solo at the Easter service.
From the moment he arrived at St Mildred’s it
was obvious she was the go to girl when it was time for a soloist he could rely
on, and her work ethic was exceptional, and he pushed her to her limits which
each additional performance.
But as Easter approached they had to intensify
the rehearsals, as at the beginning of Holy week, her sister Hazel, who was
also the church organist, tripped down the church steps and broke her arm.
Hazel was a very accomplished musician, and it
took a couple of days phoning around the county to find someone of a decent
enough standard to fill her shoes.
But even though they found someone relatively
quickly and of a suitable standard they still lost two days rehearsal which was
time that had to be made up.
Everyone involved gave total commitment and
worked diligently to make up for lost time and when it got the evening of
Maundy Thursday there was only Heather’s Good Friday solo that they had to
polish, neither her or Robert were in the best of moods as neither of them had
intended to still be practicing that late into Holy week and they both had
somewhere else they needed to be, and they didn’t want to be late.
Robert made them even later when he insisted
on her doing it one more time, and he did that because he became mesmerised by
her angelic voice and was struck for the first time by the fact that not only
did she sound like an angel, but she looked like one as well.
However, stand in Organist Harry Paul called a
halt to proceedings when Robert asked to go again.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, it’s getting
late and you can’t improve on perfection”
“No, you’re quite right” he agreed with his
eyes still fixed on Heather
“Oh no” she said looking at her watch “Look at
the time”
“Somewhere to be?” Robert asked
“Yes” she replied and put her coat on but
didn’t elaborate.
He supposed she must have a date or something
equally frivolous, and then he looked at his own watch.
“Oh, dear it is rather late” he said, “Do you
have somewhere to be as well?” she asked as he put his own coat on
“Yes, I do” he replied, “and I particularly
wanted to be there on time”
“Oh yes? What is it a new restaurant?” she
asked
“Of a sort” he replied
“What about you?” Robert asked as they left
the church “Do you have a date?”
“Certainly not” she said with afront “I have
more important things to do with my time”
“Well I’ll see you tomorrow at the service” he
said as he was digesting her answer
“Quite so” she agreed “I hope you make it on
time”
“You too” he replied and walked to his car as
she headed in the opposite direction to the Vicarage.
As she lived so close she was fed, showered,
changed and on her way out the door before Robert had even reached his front
door in Sharpington.
When he did, he closed the door behind him and
went straight to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich.
He ate it far too quickly to be good for him, in
fact he was still chewing as he stepped into the shower and as he did so he
knew he would have heartburn for the rest of the night.
He dried himself and dressed in warm clothes
and was then on his way.
He drove into town and parked on the promenade
and checked his watch as he hurriedly walked toward his destination, as he was
twenty minutes late.
He looked through the window and saw it was
quite busy and a queue had formed so he walked around to the side door and
walked in and undid his coat as he did he said
“I’m terribly sorry I’m so late I was unavoidably
detained”
“Well they all say that” Heather said as she
turned around and Robert smiled when he saw that it was his angel.
And at that moment they both realised that their mutual searches for “the one” had come to an end and it happened at the Sharpington soup kitchen.
Pretty Girl on a bicycle
In
a summer dress
Leaning
over the handlebars
To
make better progress
When
gravity intervened
As
if in answer to a prayer
And
presented to the viewer
The
most perfect pair
Sweet, sweet Emily
My
sweet confection
With
Demerara skin
A
honeyed morsel
Wrapped
in white silk
Just
visible beneath
Her
pristine shirt
Tantalising
the senses
Are
the chocolate peaks
Of
plump brown muffins
Sweet
caramel delights
Perfectly
formed
In
provocative silhouette
To
whet the appetite
Sweet,
sweet Emily
My
sweet confection
My
favourite desert
When the burning sun sinks low
Setting
the western sky aglow
And
the evening shadows grow
