Friday, 1 April 2011

Bringing a Hildabeest to Heel, Part Two

As far as I was concerned everything was going swimmingly as I inserted my fingers into the elastic of Pippa's knickers with a view to sliding them down over her hips. In fact I may have actually started the peeling down process in train when Pippa froze like a statue, head cocked over to one side, with both hands clamped firmly on my wrists to prevent any further downward movement of her panties.

"Can you hear that?" Her voice was a soft, urgent whisper.

"Hear what?" That's the problem that we fellows have, isn't it? There comes a point in our arousal when the brain switches off and the chopper takes over all necessary processes - and hearing isn't one of them.

"Someone's moving through the under brush. Listen - the leaves are rustling."

"It's just a rat or something," I replied, and to be fair I had seen out of the corner of my eye a small shape moving around in our vicinity.

"A rat! A dirty big rat! Why didn't you tell me it was a squirrel?

"OK, it's a squirrel," I said, ever eager to both please and get her knickers down for action.

"Squirrels don't play out at night - it's a dirty big rat and I'm off!" With that madam pushed me away from her and darted back to the path. I shook my head at the inanity of it all and fished a cigarette out of my pocket and stood there smoking whilst a gathered my thought.

"Are you going to stand there all night? I want to go home."

Pippa's voice was petulant and sulky, the tone of a little girl who was used to getting her own way. Alas she had picked the wrong man to play such games with.

"If you want to go home, then see you around," I replied, walking slowly back to the bench where we had sat earlier. "I am quite comfortable here for the time being thank you very much."

"You mean you are going to let me walk on my own?"

"You are not on your own," I told her genially. "You have lots of big fat rats for company."

With a squeal Pippa turned on her heel and started to march off, her heels crunching on the gravel pathway. She turned a corner and was gone from sight but I knew that she had stopped because I could no long hear her footsteps. Knowing that sound travels in the night I placed my tongue into he roof of my mouth and clucked it as loudly as I could two or three times. Sure enough madam returned using high anger to hide her quite entertaining fear.

"I insist that you walk me home," she said, in that attempt at an authoritative tone of voice that women use at times like this: and they wonder why men laugh at them.

"Insist all you like, darling. I leave when I am ready - so sit down and wait," I told her. At that point all Pippa had to do was hang around for a minute until the last of my cigarette had been smoked and then I would have walked her back to the main road and dumped her there. Of course that was too much to ask so she took a deep breath and as soon as I saw that I realised that the remainder of the evening was about to take an interesting turn.

To be continued.

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