Tag: life

Gwendoline and the geek

Gwendoline was not really interested in computers: in her view they were tools, like the men who worked on them. But unfortunately she was obliged to use one for her work, and so when it went wrong, she had to admit such men were useful.
The local branch of Overbyte was quiet when she went in. Aware of her inadequacies with modern electronics, she tried to enter unobserved. This was a doomed plan from the start: the staff of Overbyte were overwhelmingly male, each of their customers also tended to be overwhelmingly male. Gwendoline, on the other hand, was overwhelmingly female, and as she crossed the floor from door to counter, several pairs of eyes were drawn, by the delightfully refreshing tic-tic of stilettos, to watch her closely. It was time well spent: she was dressed in clothes which seemed to have shrunk in the wash but were gamely trying to do their duty. The watching men longed to say to them “Just relax, have a break. We’ll take it from here” By the time she reached the counter, however, they all seemed to be staring intently at their work… though buoyed up (or was that “boyed up”?) by the sight of Gwendoline’s overwhelming female attributes.

One member of staff, his member like a staff, greeted her with a broad smile and some subtle readjustments below counter level.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, the answers already blazing in his head.
Gwendoline tossed back her mane of auburn hair: when nervous she always impersonated shampoo adverts; she found it reassuring.
“I don’t know where to start…” she whispered shyly. Again, the staff member could have answered that for her, but he let her make the running.
“You have a problem with your computer?”
“Yes, I do”
Well, that was clear enough. It should be plain sailing from here on.
“I’m not very good with computers…” she said, her voice trailing away. “I’m hopeless with gadgets really” she paused, then corrected herself “well I have SOME gadgets which I am fine with…I know how all the buttons and things work…” she paused again, going just a teensy bit pink
“But not computers.”
The man laughed, and introduced himself as Sven. This wasn’t his name, but he found it worked better with women than Norman
“Well Sven, I can’t get it to do anything I want”
Sven looked surprised: she could have got HIM to do pretty much anything
“So is the screen locked up?” he asked
“No” She looked puzzled. “I just leave it on the desk. Is that wrong?”
“I mean does it not respond when you press anything?”
“That’s the problem Sven. No response no matter where I press.” She looked up at him, her huge blue eyes and softly pouting lips reminding him of the things he had been looking at on HIS computer just before she walked in
“…and I’m not used to that”
“I can imagine!” Sven exclaimed. “I suppose you’ve tried turning it off?”
Gwendoline gave him a firm stare from under her lashes. “Of course” she replied. She didn’t want to be taken for THAT much of a fool
“And have you – ”
“I’ve turned it on, yes” she said, with slow emphasis. “I know how to do that”
She let a little smile escape her lips: It crossed the desk at a fast run and jumped into Sven’s arms, where it made itself at home and Sven vowed to keep it as a pet.
“Yes, you certainly do, madam!”

In answer to his question about the model, Gwendoline drew a piece of paper from her pocket, on which she had written all the details. She pushed it across the counter, anxiously
“Are you any good with these?”
Sven smiled reassuringly: he was getting into his stride here; on surer ground.
“Oh yes. Well, I’m pretty experienced with all kinds, but I could tell you a tale or two about these babies”
“Really?” Gwendoline’s eyes opened wider than ever
“Oh yes! Some of the guys [he waved his arm to indicate the other members of staff] just deal with the front end stuff”
“Is that so?” she asked innocently
“Yes. They just do the simple stuff. But me, well I do the lot. Suppose – just suppose, that this turned out to be hard drive trouble -”
Gwendoline looked alarmed “Hard drive?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with a hard drive?”
There was an awkward pause. Gwendoline was unsure how to answer the question, but Sven seemed so helpful
“I’ve had a few” she said eventually “Could they have damaged the computer?”

There was another pause. Sven stared at the ceiling for a long moment whilst he waited for his thoughts and other parts to settle. Gwendoline was looking at him, one hand pressed anxiously to her chest, which rather than concealing seemed to amplify her volumpty distractions. Below her hand the orboids heaved with concern.

“As I said, if it DID turn out to be a hard drive issue, I might well be able to sort it nevertheless.”
He started on a favourite anecdote “There was a woman came in here last year, everything seized up. No-one could get to the bottom of it. Eventually I had to do a housecall. I got right under her desk and I was able to sort her out from the back end”
“Wow!” Gwendoline was impressed
“So she didn’t mind about the computer after that then?”
“Sometimes, you have to just get stuck in. And other times…Well!” he laughed, another anecdote surfacing in his memory “Another customer, her hard drive was no more. She’d been quoted God knows how much to sort it. She came to me, and do you know, a quick bang on the desk and all was well! She was happy as Larry”
Gwendoline was most impressed. She was sure she had come to the right place.

“How’s your memory?” Sven asked her. Gwendoline looked baffled “Fine, I think”
“You might be a bit full” (She certainly looked it)
“If I could just get to see it I might be able to free up some space and that would get everything going”
“What? Really?”
“Yes. I could give you some megabytes”
Gwendoline’s hand flew to her neck. “Now there’s an idea!”
“But really I need to be hands-on”
That was something she could relate to.
They agreed that he would come to her house, and see if he could get everything going again.

Gwendoline was not disappointed. Sven arrived and in no time at all had indeed got under her desk and helped her out. Everything was freed up, Gwendoline ended up with megabytes she hadn’t had before. He showed her the proper use of the Insert key, and soon her locked Shift was off. She no longer wanted to Escape, and indeed savoured the new memory for a long time.

Thaddeus finds something All Gold

It was a crisp autumn morning – cheese and onion – when Thaddeus took a detour on his way home from work. There were workmen digging up the footpath, and whilst Thaddeus liked a good trench as much as the next person (if the next person was also keen on trenches) but the workmen’s enthusiasm for their work made the place impassable.
And so he passed a shop he had never really noticed before, called Sweet Nibbles. It was an “Olde Worlde” sweet shop, with jars in the window, and a tipped basket spilling a cornucopia of goodies onto a check cloth.
The door even had a little brass bell on a spring which make a Beatrix Potter-esque tinkle as he entered, which made him smile.
behind the counter stood a young woman with all the womanly attributes which can be attributed whilst standing behind a counter fully dressed. She wore a striped apron, the strings of which were wrapped and tied at the front, emphasising her waist, and struggling around her bazooples.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice dragging his gaze higher for the first time. It was a soft, sweet, rich voice, like the sort of sticky toffee pudding which is served in expensive restaurants. And the view at the higher level was very good too, though less squashy.

“I haven’t been in here before” he replied, looking around for a moment
“I know” She said quietly, “but we can change that.”
“Er…yes….well…” he hesitated
“What kind of sweets do you like?” she asked but he was looking around a little nonplussed (maths had never been his strong point) so she continued
“Do you like hard or soft sweets?”
“Errr…”
“Hard or soft?” she asked again, gently, and with emphasis
“Do you like something to…chew, or do you prefer something to…suck?”

He turned and looked straight at her, seeing clearly for the first time (a localised bank of fog having just cleared)and taking in her full, sour-cherry lips, her liquorice-black hair, and her eyes which were as dark as violet creams.

“I’m a sucker, really” he said with a chuckle
“I thought so” she said, bustling round the end of the counter and heading in the direction of the jars of hard sweets like a small ship in full sail.
Thaddeus could not help but notice the effect of the tightly wrapped apron on the back view as well: it was like watching two fudge footballs wrestling, and he decided there and then that he would also like to try some soft sweets.

She reached down a jar, twisted the lid and offered the contents to him.
“I always like a good gobstopper”
He shook his head. Audrey put the lid back and replaced the jar. “Just have a look around and tell me if you see anything which takes your fancy”
She stood back a little, the light through the window shining on her hair, curled like pontefract cakes, and gleaming on her tasty expanse of marshmammaries.

“When I was a kid I used to love flying saucers, and jelly beans”
“Aaah” she replied, “But you’re older now. Perhaps you are ready to move on to something more…. sophisticated?”

“yes” he agreed, but hesitantly. “I’m still partial to Curly Wurlies”
“You’re not alone!” exclaimed Audrey. “Young lads never grow out of that, despite the current popularity of brazilian nuts”
He laughed and agreed “You never forget your first experience with a curly wurly”

“You’re quite a traditionalist in many ways aren’t you?” Audrey asked “What about milk bottles? – Mind you, they’re more chewy, and you said you preferred something to suck on”
“Oh no, I love milk bottles!” Thaddeus declared, having been thinking of little else for the last few minutes “Though I always suck on them too!”

“Mint balls perhaps?” Audrey suggested. Thaddeus smiled proudly and assured her they were in tip top condition.
“I haven’t had a dip-dab in ages” Audrey was shocked by this, and promised to put things right.
“Do you want dip-dab, or a fountain?” she asked; she could offer both
And as she turned towards him their eyes met, introduced themselves, and agreed to coffee later. Her fulminating jubblies heaved in anticipation, causing Thaddeus to gaze down at their marshmallowyness. It was no good; hard it had to be.

But a mixed bag is always better – something for everyone. Thaddeus always went on the hard side when choosing something sweet, and he knew he wanted to get in her snickers. Audrey just had time to flick the notice on the door from OPEN to CLOSED before they settled down to try all the goodies in the Jamboree bag…

Edwina and Hanky Panky

Edwina’s little treat, on her way home from work, was once a week to divert from her normal route for a little Hanky Panky. This was a pancake stall up a small alleyway, and the delicious smell of it wafted out onto the main street…a teasing mixture of honey, cinnamon, vanilla and all good things. She allowed herself once a week to be drawn round the corner into the alleyway by the smell which was even more irresistible in the confined space. So it was with the quickened pulse of expectation that she made that turn one evening, and walked in a daze of anticipation towards the stall.
In front of it, she looked up, expecting the usual woman to be serving. The woman knew Edwina’s favourite order…. But it was not her. It was a man, dark haired and brown eyed, with lips as full and kissable as a warm, moist pancake. Edwina had never imagined that ANYTHING could rival the pancake moment, but just then she was willing to risk it.
“Hello” he said, smiling. “Can I tempt you with anything?”
Edwina had instantaneously forgotten her usual pancake order: she wanted to be tempted with something else entirely. Her mouth was dry, her tongue, which would normally be slipping back and forth across her anticipating lips, seemed huge and unwieldy. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just nodded, unaware that her tongue was, of its own volition, slipping back and forth across her lips. The man serving had noticed though.

He helped the situation along by continuing “we can do lemon, with honey or sugar, cinnamon, chocolate spread, caramelised banana…” His voice trailed off, as his attention was becoming focussed more and more on Edwina’s lips.
“How do you like them? Large, small? Thick or thin? I can do everything”
Edwina did not doubt this.
“I like large. And thick please”
He smiled and turned around to make the pancakes. Edwina’s gaze slithered over him as he turned, taking in the tightness of his T-shirt and the muscles of his arms as he deftly, with the flamboyance of a mixologist, poured batter from a huge jug onto the hotplate. It poured in a thick stream, until it made a big circle. The last few drops lay like a pearl necklace across the lip of the hotplate. Then he turned back to Edwina.
“Which would you like?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure…everything!”
He laughed. “That’s a BIG order!”
She pulled herself together abruptly. “No. Not on the pancakes. But I am rather hungry” she added, pressing her hand to her belly. This had the effect of lifting her fabulous breastage right into Antonio’s (for that was his name)eyeline.
“Me too…” he replied, and turned back momentarily to titivate the pancake. Edwina admired his delicate touch, working gently round the edges first, tickling, lifting, stroking with the edge with the palette knife, before giving a firm thrust underneath into the very centre to work it free. He flipped it over neatly before going to work on its other side. She was glad to see he wasn’t a tosser.

The first one was almost done now. She would have to make up her mind.
“Spread honey all over it” she said, her voice breathy with excitement
Antonio gently lifted the pancake and laid it onto a plate. He picked up a ladle from a big jar of honey and lifted it with a flick, trailing a stream of honey. The rest he poured in a loving swirl across the pancake, them smoothed it tenderly with the back of the ladle so that it covered every little part.
With the palette knife again he neatly flipped and turned the edges of the pancake into a manageable shape, and turned to show Edwina.
“I love having this done to me” she whispered “I mean, I love having it done FOR me, …I’m not a very good cook…” she trailed off, blushing a little.
Antonio smiled, and his brown eyes sparkled like dustings of cinnamon.
“Shall I do it again?”
Edwina nodded eagerly, and he reached for the batter jug. “Do you want it large and thick again?”
“Oh yes!” she answered, reaching forward so she could almost touch her pancake, and almost touch Antonio. Both were in front of her, just out of reach.
He poured out the batter for her second pancake. “What do you want on this one?”
“Give me everything!” Edwina cried, unable to contain herself any longer. Antonio looked around in surprise, and saw the gorgeous Edwina push open the half swing door at the side of the stall, and burst through, her bulptuous chest heaving with excitement. It was enough to make him drop his ladle.

He squatted down to pick it up, and found Edwina there too, her lovely face, all pink-cheeked and eyeworthy, close to his own. Her warm breath was on his cheek. On the hotplate the pancake batter solidified. There was no-one there to tickle the edges of it, to flick and thrust and flip and smear with honey, because he was down on the floor of the stall applying his many talents to the delicious customer who loved Hanky Panky

Elfrida gets a spanner in the works

The vibrations were getting stronger, even making Elfrida’s knees tremble. It had been like this for a while, and she had not minded at all: in fact it made her drive to work so much pleasanter that she sometimes took a detour to prolong it. But there was no getting away from the fact that the situation was deteriorating, and she would have to take action.
At the traffic lights on the way home from work she could not resist pressing her stiletto-clad toe onto the throttle. Hard. Just to feel the shuddering increase. The effect was slightly spoiled by the huge cloud of black smoke which was now filling the her rear view mirror. Smoke up the rear was disconcerting and spoiled her enjoyment of the shudder. With some reluctance she diverted from her usual routes (several, of varying length, depending on her mood)and pulled into a garage forecourt. She brought the car to a halt in a cloud of smoke.

The mechanic, Sam, had heard the car approaching, and came out to have a look. He was watching as Elfrida opened the door and extended her long stocking-clad legs out onto the concrete of the forecourt. The mechanic was mesmerised: he had never seen anyone with extendable legs before. When she eventually got out of the car, they made her quite tall.

As she walked over to the office (she was a little ungainly on account of the leg issue) Sam, felt a pulse of interest. She was beautiful, with the sort of long blonde hair which other women are apt to sneer at, but which men will NEVER have a bad word for. Her cheeks were flushed pink, like Barbie’s toilet, and her lips were full and pouty.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked, doing the traditional mechanic thing of wiping his oily hands on an oily rag. This has no effect on the oiliness of either but is part of a mechanic’s training.
Elfrida stretched her full, pouty lips into a smile, which caused even more pulsing of interest in Sam. “My vibrations have got really bad” she confessed, shaking her pretty head, – which generated one of those special hair tosses.

“I could tell summat was going on!” said Sam
Elfrida flushed pinker than ever and looked rather awkward. “Could you really?” she smoothed her skirt and fanned herself a little with her hand. “Was it that obvious?”
“It certainly was! That was a LOT of smoke”

Sam drove the car into the workshop, and lifted the bonnet, waving away more smoke as he did so.
There was hot oil splattered everywhere. “Mind away!” he said firmly to Elfrida, who was leaning in behind him to look.
“You’re not really meant to even be here, in the workshop” he said, regretfully. She stepped closer to him, and one of her fulsome norks brushed lightly against his back. He almost fell forward onto the hot engine, but just managed to save himself. He straightened up, in more ways than just his posture, and discovered that Elfrida had not moved, so as he stood up her right bap squashed warmly and softly against his ribs. This prompted another, stronger pulse of interest. This juxtaposition was not something he had anticipated as he had pulled on his overalls that morning. He was now grateful for two aspects of them: they were forgivingly baggy, and they had access slots at trouser pocket height which permitted manual adjustments when necessary.
They were necessary now.

“Careful! You’ll get yourself all oily!” Elfrida squirmed, with a little thrill of excitement at this thought – even though the oil in question was not as she would have preferred.
“Listening to that noise as you arrived, I’d say we’ve got quite a lot to do here” said Sam, apologetically. But Elfrida thought that was rather good news.
“I’ll take a stab in the dark at your big end”
Elfrida was a curvy damsel, and it was refreshing to hear his enthusiasm.
“You may have blown a gasket too”
He was a bit ahead of himself with that one, but it was definitely on the cards, she thought.
“You should really get serviced regularly” He said. Elfrida couldn’t agree more

Sam leaned forward under the bonnet, trying to concentrate. After a moment he straightened up (even more) to find Elfrida even closer, her whole body pressed lightly against him.
“What do you think?” she asked, in her sultry purring voice. (She had a number of voices, due to a short career as an impressionist)”Are my tappets a problem?”
No they were not. they actually felt very nice.
Sam’s voice was shaky. He hadn’t had her experience.
“I think your belt’s a bit loose. I’ll tighten that while I’m in there”
She wriggled with anticipation. “When can you start?” she asked, this time in a voice like Ian Duncan Smith, which Sam found startling. Never mind. A guy likes to be surprised.

“it’s quiet at the moment. I finished off a mini a little while ago. I could fit you in right now”
“My thoughts exactly!” said Elfrida eagerly, and immediately reached for his monkey wrench.
Sam liked women who knew what they wanted. He slapped the wrench into her hand.
“Do you know what to do with it?”
“I can learn on the job” Elfrida whispered “I’ve handled a lot of spanners over the years. It’s all in the grip, and having a strong wrist”
“But do you know where to start?” Sam asked
“Oh yes” came her reply

Sam was right about her blowing a gasket

Delphine goes dogging

The Little Chuffington Annual Dog Show was not Crufts. More a Crafts Show than a Crufts Show. In addition to the dogs there were marquees of stalls where local people sold small painted signs in pastel colours which read things like “I’m the boss round here and I have my wife’s permission to say so” and ridiculously expensive handmade dangly Christmas decorations. They were bought by large blousy women dressed in voluminous drapey mushroom coloured cardigans, with massive arty necklaces and a higher incidence of scarfage than in the general population.

For Delphine it was all about the dogs, though. She executed a chicaine around the stall offering to create a child’s name in pastel-coloured wooden letters, and the one selling variations on gold-sprayed pine cones for Christmas decorations.
She was drawn to the main marquee by the combination of snoofling, gruffling and wuffing noises (punctuated by the odd visceral howl)and the collective smell of scores of dogs and their coiffed and perfumed owners.

It was the most popular marquee and was very crowded. As Delphine looked around her eye was caught by a young man with a particularly splendid cocker spaniel attached to his lead.. Delphine was a sucker for a winsome cocker, and immediately made her way over to him.
“Can I stroke your cocker?” she asked shyly, glancing up at him through her lush lashes.
How could he refuse? Or why?
“Oh go ahead!” he said warmly (he was wearing a thick jumper) “he loves it”
Delphine gave it a good stroking, noticing how the cocker enjoyed it. She then tickled it underneath. But it soon became rather too excited, so, with a smile of thanks to the man, she moved on.
She wanted to have a peke at some poodles, but in the crowded tent she couldn’t find them, and pushed past the Lhasa Apsos, the Malamutes and the Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retrievers until eventually in despair she stopped a woman with a pinscher, a bitch who refused to help. This was disconcerting: Delphine had expected dogging people to be friendlier: She had understood that they welcomed everyone without question, or so it was suggested on the website. However she was resolved to get the poodles and finally she pushed her way through a tight throng of people and there she saw them: All the poodles and poodle crosses… labradoodles, Schauzerdoodles, St Berdoodles, even a Staffordshire Bullpoodle. She was fascinated, and after a few minutes she noticed a handsome man in the crowd and she eased her way over to him. He was standing with one hand in the pocket of his tight jeans, and the other behind him.
“Have you got your cocker there?” she asked him
“Oh ! No, I was just putting my phone back in my pocket”
Delphine smiled at him again, and he noticed how the light through the canvas roof played on her hair, like a crowd of children in a sandpit.
“Are you into dogs?” he asked
“I love all their different body shapes, the different breeds. I’m really into doggy style”
“Are you now?” he replied, with a grin. “In that case would you like to see a mastiff?”
Delphine hesitated for a moment: she hadn’t realised he was Italian.
“I’m holding it out of the way because it’s so big”
Delphine nodded. She really did want to see it. her excitement at the prospect gave her cheeks a winsome flush, which the man misinterpreted as nerves
“You can stroke him. It’ll be fine. He knows how to be gentle. But it’s so crowded here. Let’s go somewhere quieter where he can really play around”
They managed to push their way through the crowd and out of the marquee. Delphine was awestruck at how the man could part a crowd with a mastiff. Once they had broken through the crush, they walked round the back of the marquee where there was open space and nobody around.
“There. Now you can see him in all his glory”
He certainly was magnificent. He had been well rubbed down and now shone with health and vigour in the late afternoon sun. Delphine gave him a stroke, and realised that although he responded keenly, he was not crazy as the cocker.
“He wants to be off the leash” the man said, “Do you think I should let him?”
Delphine was hesitant, but keen to see the beast move. “If you think you can control him” she said, breathless with excitement.
“I’m not sure I can” said the man, his eyes glittering, as if a small child had put glitter in them. “But he wouldn’t hurt anyone”
He unclipped the lead, and they watched the great beast surge forward. Delphine gasped. She had realised that there was more than one massive beast surging forward. The man turned to her
“I once had a bichon frize” he whispered, leaning towards her, “but you’re much more my type, a bichon heat”
Delphine heart was thumping in her chest. This meant that the basics of life were being maintained, and she had no need to worry
“Can I hold him?” she asked. The man nodded “He’s quite a pointer”
“He’s so strong!” she exclaimed “I had no idea”
“You can chow down if you like” he hinted “If you look closely you’ll see a ridgeback”
Delphine looked, and she did manage to make that out…What a beast! As fast as a Whippet, as strong as a Rottweiler, as tenacious as a Doberman, but as gentle as a Spaniel. And such agility! It could leap over, duck under, rush into tunnels. All with such enthusiasm. And then he gave her the most enthusiastic licking she had ever known!

Marilyn gets her ticket clipped

The 21.47 from Lechlade was running a little late. This was fortunate as Marilyn was too. She had run, teetering along the station approach, clattered over the bridge, wobbled dangerously down the wrought iron steps (so tricky with stilettos) and staggered, gasping and unsteady through the doors of the carriage as they were shutting. Luckily the nearest seat was free and she collapsed into it. She was so busy getting her breath back that she failed to notice the carriage’s only other occupant.
He, however had noticed her. He noticed the precariously high heels (so flattering!) the tightness of her dress, the heaving of her bosom as she recovered herself. Strictly speaking, as he did not think in Victorian terms, he had noticed the heaving of her bosoms, which was much more in accordance with his way of thinking. It was very satisfactory. THEY were very satisfactory. He was still in full agreement with himself on this when she looked up and saw him staring.

Marilyn didn’t mind this at all. In fact she was rather glad that her efforts getting the buttons done up on the front of the dress had been worthwhile. She smiled back, and then opened her magazine, pausing now and again to settle herself into her seat, an action which involved a surprising amount of chest lifting. The man across the carriage was surprised, certainly.

She glanced at him over her magazine from time to time. He was casually dressed, young, with hair which flopped across his forehead. She noticed that: it indicated a lack of body. Indications can be deceptive though, as her next glance showed him to have plenty of body.
That very next glance also showed him to have been looking at her at the same time! She allowed a flicker of a hint of a smile to play across her lips (which were luscious, of course) like a cellist with a large instrument between his thighs, before glancing away in a manner intended to be teasing. It worked. It teased. Marilyn was good at this, and after a few more moments she reached into her bag and drew out a sandwich. The man was impressed: he had not expected her to be an artist as well.
She ate it carefully, taking tiny girlish nibbles, and licking her lips (which were, as mentioned, luscious) frequently. A crumb dropped down her front, bouncing on her frontage and from that delicious launchpad, careening down until it encountered a gap between the straining buttons. The gap engulfed it into the warm depths of her capacious cleavage. The man watched, mesmerized, entertaining hitherto unexpected dreams of life as a crumb, and all the opportunities it might offer.
These opportunities expanded as she, whilst exploring the inviting crevasse in pursuit of the crumb, suddenly exposed the buttons to stresses they were not designed to take, and the front of her dress burst open. At that moment the opportunities for a fulfilling career as a crumb were not the only thing which expanded: lo and behold the man was soon fidgeting in his seat as well.
“Oh gosh, look at me!” Exclaimed Marilyn unnecessarily. She began to try to flick off the crumb, now attached to one swelling bosom. This had the effect of seeing up a resonance frequency amongst the contents of her dress, and causing further agitation across the carriage.
“May I help you?” The man asked, in a voice which seemed surprisingly squeaky. She looked slightly surprised, but then he held out a paper tissue. Marilyn, though all ready to be outraged at his forwardness, then was immediately disappointed by his politeness. She took the tissue and began to dab at the crumb.
Suddenly, because trains have a sense of narrative and an understanding of the human condition, the carriage jolted severely, and Marilyn going herself thrown across the aisle. With only a minimum of contrivance on her part she managed to fall into the lap of the young floppy haired man opposite. Not so floppy now!
He was obliged by circumstances and inclination to steady her with both his arms, which was particularly useful as only moments later they entered a tunnel.
“Oh my goodness!” Exclaimed Marilyn, several times at intervals, and with a range of different inflections.
It was a long tunnel. Which was almost what Marilyn said after she stopped saying “Oh my goodness!” and which seemed to please the young man a great deal. In fact Marilyn herself seemed to please the young man a great deal too.
The errant crumb got lost in all this…but it was not missed. The buttons went astray too, and it was lucky Marilyn had a cardigan to wrap herself in afterwards. Her magazine ended up torn and scattered across the floor, the rest of her sandwich forgotten.
As for the young man, he found himself enjoying the experience of a tunnel. In a tunnel. He had been a railway enthusiast since boyhood, but in all his childish fantasies he had never imagined exploring sidings, touching a set of points, the pounding of pistons, the building pressure of steam, the exhilarating whistle of the express! He had never clipped a ticket like Marilyn.

A spanner in my works

Suds! Suds! Everywhere. Darlene opened the door of her kitchen and was met by a huge mound of bubbles. Pausing only to scoop up a few handfuls and toss them playfully, she waded through and found her pad of Useful Numbers. She had never had to call a plumber before. But this was a crisis. Luckily a Pipes@Home engineer was not too far away. Darlene cleared the mess as best she could and then went upstairs to change out of her wet trousers. She had only just undressed when the doorbell rang. Not wanting to miss the engineer on any account, she grabbed her satin dressing gown and wrapped it around her voluptuous and still slightly damp body.
She descended the stairs two at a time, the dressing gown flapping around her shapely legs. This was the view which greeted the engineer waiting on the doorstep: The front door had a glass panel which now bore the imprint of his nose, pressed against it as he watched her approach.
She fumbled with the lock inside, he fumbled with his overalls outside
The door eventually opened, and a flustered Darlene beckoned the engineer inside
“Such a mess!” she exclaimed, but the engineer disagreed, telling her she looked fine really. Darlene blushed and played with her hair

In the kitchen there were still bubbles spreading in a slow tide across the floor.
“Stop cock! That’s what we need” said the engineer
“Stop cock? That never occurred to me” said Darlene, feeling foolish. Then she suddenly realised he was looking around for somewhere to put his bag
“Do you need somewhere to put your tools?” she asked “it’s not a very big kitchen and that’s a huge toolbag.”
She cleared a space for him and the engineer eased his toolbag onto the table.
“I expect we’ll find the stopcock under the sink” he said helpfully “why don’t you have a look?”

Darlene opened the door of her under-sink cupboard. The floor was still very wet so she bent carefully down, grasping her dressing gown with one hand to stop it falling into the puddles. Sure enough the stop cock was there. She tried to turn it with her free hand, but it was stiff.
“It’s so stiff!” she cried, but the engineer did not at first reply: he was adjusting his overalls again as he watched Darlene, her dressing gown the only filmy barrier obscuring her succulent butt as she bent over the cupboard.
“I said it very stiff” she repeated. There was a pause, and then the engineer muttered awkwardly “I’m sorry miss, it just happens”

Darleen turned round to look at him: he was young, with a strong jawline, muscular muscles and two good eyes. He also appeared to have a large spanner inside his overalls.
“Let me take care of this!” he said confidently, striding forward. Darlene could see he was carrying a pipe wrench and a sink plunger, one in each hand. So where was the huge spanner?

In a moment he had turned off the water and stemmed the rising tide of suds. “No more stop cock problems for you!” he said triumphantly. “Now I just need to flush through your pipes”
Darlene was flushed already, and couldn’t help but stay close and watch as he pulled out her washer and felt along her tubing with a firm but gentle stroking and squeezing action.
“What are you doing that for?” she asked. “I’m wondering if you have a blockage along here” he replied, and Darlene stood back a little to let him finish the job. She watched his strong back as he squeezed the tubing vigorously, and felt a deep, damp yearning to be that tubing.

“I think I’ve found the problem” he said suddenly, and in a flash he had whipped off her connections, released her tubing and the blockage, (a coin) fell to the floor. “Oh how marvellous!” Darlene exclaimed “Will you need to flush through now?”
The engineer straightened up awkwardly “I fear so, yes”
To lighten the moment, he glanced down at the coin on the floor and said
“My tip!”
Darlene looked searchingly at him, and yes, she thought she could see his tip…

In a sudden surge of passion, she flung open her satin dressing gown: the effect on the engineer was immediate, (though mollified by the fact that Darlene was still wearing her sweatshirt…she had only taken her trousers off when the doorbell rang)he sprang forward, taking her in his arms. The huge spanner seemed to get in the way a bit at first, but after a while they made room for it.

The engineer was good, very good. No leaks, and the pressure was higher than ever before. Darlene had worries about blockages in her tubing, or her stopcock or valves any more. Her engineer from Pipes@Home was right at home in her pipes…