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That woman

  Sat 6th July 2019

I had a very carefully made up woman half my age stare at me the other day as I prepared to take my trousers off, as her colleague ran her hands over my body. It ended badly: I went to work in an airport.

We had to go on a training course, which started at seven fucking thirty on Saturday. It was mind-bendingly boring. What a farce of a non-industry "training" can be. Apparently, people comes from different backgrounds and I will expected to treat them all with respect.

I'm serving and washing up in the "executive" lounge, from which one literally looks down on the hoi polloi who are uninterested in such a small privilege. I'm with an international group of younger people, mainly women, and as is the wont of that sex, they spend a good bit of the working day in in-grouping covenly intrigues. The job's doing me good though. I'm eating well, and for free, the same food as airline passengers travelling first class are given.

On the bus back to town I sat with a fellow new starter, who said that he'd made up a dentist's appointment so that he could go on a Tindr date. "Are you on Tindr?" he asked. I was pleased that someone so young assumed I might have the occasional date. "Well, actually, I'm meeting this girl now. I'm not quite sure what the situation is."


Hayley was in her blue cord miniskirt. Her scalloped low black top exceeded by a small band of black bra. I had to scrape off the worst of a wayward hot chocolate dotting my trousers. She scavenged for tobacco amongst the discarded butts in the ashtray. Another complaint about her on-off boyfriend's lack of sexual interest in her, which I find incredible. "He said 'we could just have a cuddle and watch a film.' I don't want that, I want some sex!"

She was talking about the deposit we will need to gather together in order to rent our two-bed flat. She has a painting someone's interested in for which she's asking £3000, but "I've got ways of making money. I can always get money."

"He offered me £300 to spunk him." I didn't understand in what way this was a transitive verb, but kept quiet as clarity sometimes follows a mishearing. "I thought, '£300? Yes, I'll do that.'" I finally realised that in her Fenland accent she was saying "spanking." "I mean compared to what they put you through on Universal Credit? Much easier."

She was speaking about her friend and occasional flatmate. "You should see some of the things Terri's had. I look at them and think 'I'd be charging them'."

She left for Esther's. "She just wants a girlie night. She's one of the good ones though isn't she?" which I took as an apology for cancelling the plan for her to stay at mine.

Later, feeling desirous, I worked on the kind of playful, witty and subtlely worded suggestion that women appreciate. "Hayley, if you fancy a rodding tonight give me a bell xx." No reply until the following morning at 11am: "Loves you xx".


We met again last night and went out dancing in the pub-cum-club owned by the man to whom she's hoping to sell the 3K painting. Kylie went off again and got us some kind of drug which had all the effect of an aspirin. Sitting outside we met someone she knows who sold us some whippies, which are reliable, unfakeable fun, partly for the way that the sound of their inflation alarmed the Spanish people sat at our table.

Back at mine we're soon in bed spooning; in the morning, my cock hardening against her arse, and me very slowly trying to get her top up far enough to allow me an un-bra'd touch of her tits. "You've got lovely tits," I told her early on. "Yeah, they're not fat tits are they?"


In the pub after work last night, I meet a former work colleague and her two friends, once of whom might have a bedsit available in a few weeks for a little less than I'm paying now. I need to leave here. I have had Hayley back twice whilst I've lived here and it disturbs the delicate humour of the landlady. Selections from her texts include "Thanks for waking me up at 4 fucking am...Absolutely not fucking on...", and Hayley is now referred to as "that woman."

I rang Hayley to tell her about the bedsit. She assumed that she'd be moving in to it. I didn't mean that Hayley. That will be my place until we can find a flat together, although only paying £215 a month each would free up a lot of money that we could spend unwisely.

3 comments

Comment from: Scarlet [Visitor]

“I mean compared to what they put you through on Universal Credit? Much easier.”

I think she may have a good point.

Meanwhile, I swear you know more about women’s clothing than I do!
Sx

Sun 7th July 2019 @ 08:55 Reply to this comment
Comment from: Looby [Visitor]

I’d have done the same in her position, so to speak.

I love looking at a well dressed woman. I get a pleasure frpm it that fuses the aesthetic and erotic. And they do it for free.

Sun 7th July 2019 @ 13:26 Reply to this comment
Comment from: daisyfae [Visitor]

having scammed my way into more than a few executive airport lounges, i hope that job treats you well - i always tip the barkeeps. i’m drinking (heavily) for free, eating all the kibbles they can dish out, and all because i spend time on airplanes.

for what it’s worth, i appreciate the relative calm in the lounges, but always carry some guilt to have the chance to stay in the oasis, rather than the chaos of the general waiting areas. perhaps that’s why i tip the barkeeps…

Sun 14th July 2019 @ 22:19 Reply to this comment


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M / 55 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.


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