Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Me and Mr Grant

I saw across him across the car park. He was just coming out of the doctor's surgery. He looked handsome, debonair and charming as he always does. My heart fluttered.

A thought flashed across my mind that maybe he was being treated for bipolar disorder... quickly followed by the even more worrying thought of erectile dysfunction.

But as our paths crossed I was captivated by his sparkling blue eyes, his lean body clothed in a dark grey suit and open necked shirt. His casual elegance.

He smiled.

I smiled.

"Hello," I said shyly.

"Hello," he replied, his smile breaking into an enticing grin.

"I trust you've not got bi-polar disorder?" I said.

"No, indeed," he laughed. "Just a small problem, easily rectified."

I glanced down at his pants.

He laughed and said something witty.

I said something witty in reply.

He said something even wittier.

I said something even more wittier.

"Wow," he said. "Your the funniest woman I've ever met."

"So you've not met Graham Norton then?" I quipped.

"Hmm. Point taken." He grinned again. "You know, I've never met a woman like you."

"Neither have I," I replied. "Which is lucky as otherwise I'd have to share my inheritance."

He laughed again and reached out and touched my face.

"You have the most amazing eyes," I said as he ran his finger down my cheek.

"You have the most amazing...bottom," he said, as his hand strayed to my thigh.

"Oh gosh," I replied, my knees shaking. "No one's ever said that to me before!"

He slid his arms around my waist.

I wrapped my arms around his neck.

We moved closer together. Our lips were just about to touch and....

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRINGGGGGGGGGGGGG.
________________________________________________________

Yep, Mr T's alarm clock went off.

Sod it. Sod it. Sod it. Why do things like that always, always, happen to me? The only time I get a decent dream where I'm not been bashed to death by a lunatic with a Le Crueset saucepan or drowning in a sink of stinky dishwater and it has to be ruined by Mr T's alarm clock. Humph.

I'm lodging a formal complaint. I demand some flattery of my bottom or I'm moving out.


6 comments:

  1. I hope you gave the alarm clock a proper 'ticking off'( and that it lies in pieces under your beautiful roll-top desk)
    Appreciation of one's bottom, now that is real appreciation.

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  2. True, true Sue. Appreciation of a bottom is rare indeed - or in my case non existent:) I think that particular dream rates as one one of my best ever dreams. I did once dream though that I was part of The Professionals TV series- but that was in about 1978. Sadly, there's not been that much excitement since then.....

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  3. So what's happened to Arnie then? Or perhaps Hugh just has the edge with the twinkle in his eye.
    Hasta la vista, baby......

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  4. No idea Martin - let's face it I'm middle aged and my hormones are up shit creek. It won't be long before I wearing Jesus sandals, robes and wearing olive branches in my hair! Insanity is only a short distance away....

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  5. sigh - next time you meet him Mrs T , give me a smooch from me please

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  6. I will certainly try my best Mrs G:))

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