by steve higgs
‘Hey, dad, how’s it going?’ I asked.
‘Pretty good, kid.’
‘What you been up to?’
‘I tried out some frontin’ in the hood yesterday.’
I gave him my most quizzical single eyebrow lift.
He gave me a grin. ‘A young gentleman was rapping about it on the radio. He made it sound most entertaining, so I gave it a go. It seemed that all I needed was a Bentley with some bitches in the back. I had to make do with the Ford Escort and your mother and I may have not quite achieved the effect he intended as, to be honest, it was pretty much like any other journey with your mum. Still, the intention was there and that has to count for something.'
‘How did I turn out so normal, dad?’
‘Honestly boy, I have no idea.’ he laughed.
Mother arrived carrying Dozer. He was upside down and being cradled like a baby. He was clearly quite content with this arrangement and looked to be going to sleep as she stroked his belly.
‘Good morning, Tempest.’
‘Good morning, mother.’ The pleasantries concluded I turned to dad. ‘Shall we get started?’ I asked.
‘I’ll just finish washing up the breakfast things. Then I’ll be out.’
‘Haven’t you finished that yet, Michael?’ my mother asked.
‘Clearly not, you cantankerous old bag.' replied my father smiling. He headed for the kitchen, keeping a close eye on his wife and leaping out of the way of the inevitable and well-earned kick when it came.
A short while later, both of us are were beginning to perspire from the effort of shifting the heavy flower pots with their large plants in. Mother was directing our efforts from the comfort of a garden chair while continuing to stroke Dozer, who was at least now the right way up and sprawled asleep on her lap.
The task of getting the plants in before the first frosts of late autumn damaged the tender stems, took little more than two hours, but I was glad to be finished. Mother had supplied tea and biscuits while we worked. Now we were sweeping the remains of a few fallen leaves and cooling down. It was cool enough outside that we needed a jumper or jacket, but the heavy lifting had dictated we strip down to t-shirts. Now that we had stopped all the heavy lifting the cool air was nipping at our exposed skin.
‘Let’s get inside.’ I suggested.
‘Agreed.’ Dad said. Mother was already inside.
‘Would you boys like a sandwich?’ My mother called out from the kitchen as we went in.
‘Cheese and pickle.’ My father replied.
‘Not for me, thank you.’ I said after a brief consideration of my options. I was going to use the fact that it was lunchtime and that I was hungry as an excuse to visit the coffee shop near my office and I would ask Hayley to accompany me on a date.
I kissed my mother, shook my father’s hand and shooed the dogs out to the car.
Grabbing Life by the Balls (AKA Growing a Set). Saturday, 9th October 1257hrs
I checked my watch: 1257hrs. It seemed like a perfectly good time to get some lunch. Lunch was usually something healthy that I had prepared in advance as it is all too easy to encounter unnecessary calories and eating out or eating on the run just encourages that to happen. In my fridge at home, I had some fruit, a home-made granola bar, water and a Tupperware pot filled with a vegan salad. It was left over from yesterday when I had not managed to fit my lunch in. Rather than go home for it though, I was going for lunch at the coffee house in Rochester. It was time to deal with an altogether different need.
I had parked my car in its usual spot behind my office and left the dogs on the passenger seat rather than take them to the coffee shop. I was sure they would be welcome but rather too distracted by all the people and food. It was cool enough that I had no concern about leaving the dogs in the car for a short period. They would just sleep.
Hayley worked at the coffee shop. The two of us had been flirting harmlessly for months until a week or so ago when the flirting amped up a notch. We had exchanged numbers and Hayley had enquired if she could use my penis as a pogo stick. Hayley it seemed, knew what she wanted and was not inclined to dither about making her desires known. I had failed to commit to her request thus far because foolishly I had been pinning my hopes on Amanda wanting the same. Now though, Amanda worked for me and the chance of wearing her as a hat seemed not only less likely, but now also the other side of some invisible employee/employer barrier.
It had been a dry year for me so far. Big Ben assured it was because I am a complete wazzock when it comes to women and that I have missed plenty of opportunities. Big Ben though would have shagged Hayley, Amanda, their sisters and their mothers the day he met them and thought nothing more about them, so his advice was parked and would stay that way. As I headed across the street, I wondered what I should say to Hayley. I didn't need to launch a charm offensive to woo her, nor did I need to play coy. Perhaps I could just enquire if she was available for a date later that week? It seemed too passive, she is a strong woman that knows her own mind and has already made her intentions clear. So, I should be assertive and tell her the time has come for her to get a damned good seeing to. Or was that just too laddish?
My idle musing had led me across the street and into the coffee shop. It was busy today. I rarely go in, other than first thing in the morning, so I was not used to seeing the lunchtime crowd. I joined the queue behind a pair of chaps in work fatigues, their cargo pants worn from use and dotted here and there with paint or other fluids that had stuck or stained but had no negative effect on the usefulness of the garment.
Hayley appeared from the kitchen bearing two plates on which were what looked like toasted sandwiches. My stomach growled as the scent assailed my nostrils. Perhaps my diet could allow me such an indulgence for once. I had seen on their menu a salt beef sandwich, which I knew was a hefty offering, loaded with slice after slice of beef and swiss cheese plus mustard and pickles. I would compensate by hitting the gym again tonight and drinking water instead of getting the hot chocolate I had planned.
I tried to catch Hayley’s eye as she went past. She was oblivious to my presence though. The queue moved forward and I with it. I estimated my wait would be no longer than two minutes before I was ordering. Hayley swept past on the other side of the shop once more and disappeared into the kitchen to collect the next order. Now that I thought of it, lunchtime was probably the worst time to talk to her as they were so busy. It did not matter though, if I failed to speak with her now, I would come back later. Texting works just fine but, and forgive me if this is old-fashioned, if you intend to invite a young lady out then one should do so in person.
I reached the front of the queue and ordered a large bottle of sparkling water with a glass and ice and the sandwich to eat in. I was handed a little stand thing with a number on it so that my food order could be brought to my table. I took it and my beverage to the nearest available seat and plopped myself down to wait.
The wait was no more than a few minutes, my patience rewarded with Hayley herself bringing my sandwich out. I saw her coming and was watching for the moment when she recognised me. It happened only after she paused to scan the room for the order number on my table. Having seen it, she looked at me and her face lit up in what appeared to be genuine pleasure. This certainly boosted my ego.
‘Hello, Tempest.’ she purred at me as she neared.
‘Hello, lovely.' I answered meaning it. Hayley had on her usual work clothes combination of jeans, t-shirt, and trainers with an apron tied around her waist. The t-shirt had a coffee stain above her left breast and several grease spots dotted about. Despite the unflattering clothes she looked knockout still. Her hair was a deep lustrous brunette that fell to well below her shoulders. It was tied up today in a loose swirl. Her eyes, set just a few inches above her gloriously full smile, were a deep chocolate brown and seemed to dance with perpetual pleasure. Hayley was full of curves rather than lean or athletic and the whole package was just so enticing.
Hayley place
d the sandwich in front of me and sat down in the chair next to me. Customers be damned. ‘So, what brings you in here today, Tempest?’ her voice was deliberately demure.
I had always loved the flirting game. Even if I had never been great at converting the flirting into something more, I was good at this bit. ‘Dear lady, I am here only for you.’ It might be a line, but it was also true. ‘I have resisted the need to be close to you for too long, so perhaps it is now time to end the flirting and spend some time together.’
Hayley's eyes dilated as I spoke, they were locked with mine and as I watched the tip of her sexy tongue darted out to wet her lips. It might have been an unconscious act, but it went straight to my groin where someone was already beginning to stir. She had been sitting with her back against the chair and one leg crossed over the other. She uncrossed them now and leaned forward to bring her face close to mine. She placed a warm, small hand on my right thigh and whispered ‘I'm going to sit on your face the first chance I get. Text me.'
My pulse hammered out a quick staccato beat at the thought and Mr. Wriggly did his famous submarine impression and went up periscope. Hayley stood, brushed her lips against my cheek as she went and headed back to the kitchen without another glance.
Well, goodness, I was horny now. My pulse was returning to normal, but I dared not get out of my seat lest I scare small children with the lump in my trousers. I swigged some water and tucked into my sandwich. Reflecting on it later, the sandwich itself was glorious, but at the time it never registered as my thoughts were so focused on the potentially very naked and willing Hayley.
My Sister. Saturday, 9th October 1415hrs
I had taken my time leaving the coffee shop, but as expected, the dogs had barely registered that I had been gone and were asleep in a ball on the passenger seat where I had left them. As I opened the door to my car, I was rewarded with the joyful scent of warm furry creatures. Before I pulled away, I had duly sent a text to Hayley inviting her to join me tonight for dinner out. I suggested we eat at 2000hrs tonight. Her reply had come back in less than a minute, sent from the kitchen where she was still invisibly working. It thanked me for the invite, accepted and advised me that she would pick me up from my house.
A date with Hayley tonight. It was an exciting prospect which was greatly distracting me from the task of driving my car. I chastised myself for daydreaming and gave myself a mental shake. Thinking more clearly now, instead of fantasising about Hayley taking her knickers off, I called a restaurant I knew served great food and reserved a table.
Pulling onto the drive at my house, I sent a fresh text, ‘Dear Hayley, I have reserved a table at the Wild Oak in Aylesford for 2000hrs. I look forward to seeing you this evening.'
The Wild Oak in nearby village Aylesford was a gastro-pub where I had eaten a few times. It was well known in the area and I was surprised to have been able to get a table. The food was excellent and expensive enough to give the impression one was not skimping, while also not so outrageously expensive that the cost could barely be justified. They served a lot of locally sourced game and fish paired with seasonal vegetables. The lighting and tables were arranged to create the impression of intimacy even when surrounded by other diners. I was already looking forward to it.
It occurred to me that Hayley may very well wish to come to my house after dinner. I kept the place tidy but was a little paranoid that it may smell of dog without me noticing as I would be oblivious to the smell. I decided a thirty-minute blitz clean would do no harm, but as my sister, Rachael was due soon I would leave the polish, duster and vacuum cleaner out to remind me. A text pinged through to my phone just as I was getting the vacuum cleaner out of its cupboard. I snagged it from the counter and, pleased to see that it was from Hayley, opened the message to read it.
‘Thank you for booking dinner. I will pick you up at 715. Xx.’ I translated it into proper time: 1915hrs. Hayley wanted to pick me up rather than the other way around.
I saw no reason to argue so acknowledged with a quick, ‘See you then. X.' I had already spent enough time daydreaming about what might happen after dinner given some of the things Hayley had already said to me, so I did my best to put thoughts of rampant gorilla sex from my head and got the Barker Mill case file out.
My thoughts kept returning to Hayley though and the very real possibility that she and I might have sex at some point in the not too distant future. I was finding this thoroughly distracting. Distracting to the point that I had read the same passage three times now without taking anything in. I was reading a brief history of the Barker Steel Mill which I had found online. Thus far it had not told me anything of worth, but I was trying to absorb as much information as possible as one never knows what might be the missing clue. Of course, tonight I would be out with Hayley. Two minutes later, I realised that once again I had drifted off to the place where Hayley was laying on my bed wearing nothing but high heels and a thong and beckoning with a finger that I join her.
I chastised myself for my teenage levels of horniness but abandoned my reading. Perhaps I should get the housework done now. I set about polishing the worktops and windowsills in each room. My activities attracted a suspicious eye from Bull - he was not keen on activity. Dusting complete, I turned on the vacuum cleaner. None of these tasks required my brain so I could idly fantasise about naked women without it affecting my work and, in the hope, that I might get over it before Rachael turned up with her kids.
Naturally then, my next thought then was of Amanda laying on my bed wearing nothing but heels and a thong, her heavy chest heaving in anticipation of imminent fondling. I jumped as the vacuum cleaner ate the bottom edge of a curtain and began to drag it inside. Suddenly back in the real world, the vacuum cleaner was starting to lift off the ground as it pulled more of the floor-length curtain inside. Panicked slightly, I yanked it back but succeeded only in pulling the curtain rail loose from its mooring above the window. The doorbell chimed, and I was surprised I could hear it over the vacuum cleaner which was now making a grinding noise. It was beginning to choke on my curtain, which untethered on one side had offered the hungry machine more free material to gobble up.
Finally, my brain caught up and I switched the machine off, ending its reign of terror. The curtain rail was hanging down at an angle from the side still attached. I would need to take the whole thing off and fix it later. On the carpet, the guilty looking vacuum cleaner had over a foot of material inside it. I hoped it was not destroyed. The doorbell went again. I left the evil vacuum cleaner where it was with a pointless threat to deal with it later.
I was expecting my sister. Sure enough, there was a Rachael sized blob through the frosted glass flanked by two smaller blobs on either side. I shooed the dogs out of the way and opened the door. There was my twin sister, standing on the doorstep with her children. At six months pregnant she was sporting a considerable bump but somehow still looked tall, slim and athletic. It had often been said that I had got the brains while she got the figure and looks. Growing up we had both been in sports clubs, martial arts clubs etcetera and had both competed in and out of school. It was Rachael though that brought home the trophies, rarely me. She had gone on to compete briefly for a National gymnastics squad when she left school. Then she met a man, dropped everything to get married and before too long the children started arriving. Her employment history was brief and mostly listed retail work. In contrast, I had gathered letters to list after my name from various centres of education and had pursued a career. The children had both arrived during periods when I was out of the country on operations in some drab part of the world, so I had seen neither as a small baby and had until this year spent so little time in the UK that they barely knew who I was. Now though, I was the strange uncle that caught ghosts, or so it seemed that was their understanding. It was close enough.
‘Hello, Fallon. Hello, Martha.’ I greeted the two children. Fallon was four and still holding mummy’s hand. He was a little wet around his nose and face in the way that
some children perpetually are. Martha was six going on forty-five and too old to hold mummy’s hand now.
‘Hello, Tempest.’ said my sister while my nephew and niece continued to stare wordlessly at me.
‘Would you like to come in?’ I asked
‘That would be better than staying outside.’ she replied flippantly. The kids needed no further instruction. Fallon let go of his mother’s hand and disappeared into the house under my left arm. Martha went past me on the right. Before Rachael could waddle across the short distance to the house, they had opened the kitchen door and were already giggling at the dogs.
Rachael and I air kissed as I closed the door behind her. It was only the second time she had come to my house. She lived with her husband near his family in Hampshire. I had yet to visit their house and had not seen or spoken to her husband Chris in what was probably two years now.
‘Good to see you, sis. Would you like a tea?’
‘Yes please.’ she answered following me through to the kitchen.
‘Do the children drink tea?’
‘Not really. Juice or water mostly.’
‘How about coke?’ I offered after a fast mental-tally of the soft drink options in my house. I drank tea or water and only had coke in the house because it went so well with rum.
Rachael answered my question with a hard, ‘No. They will be bouncing off the walls if you give them coke.'
I considered that I might like to see that. It sounded fun. ‘I have water then.’ Was what I said though. I took two small glasses from a cupboard and handed Rachael drinks for the children while the kettle began bubbling behind me.
‘Is the garden safe?’ she asked.
‘In what way? It has no escape routes if that is what you mean. I have to keep all holes in the fence smaller than a Dachshund can fit through or they would be off adventuring in seconds.’
