The African one sounds a hoot, it's a pity you haven't saved it Jez, or have you? :unsure:

 

Sadly I never saved it Suggy, but I do think it was probably better than this one in some ways, because I was fresh to my theme and there was a really wide group included in the story. Also it was the time of the first big Will drought and we had no idea when we'd see him again. I know LeaForWill had kept some of it, because she PM'd me sometime back and sent me a copy of an episode I had written especially for her, again I had more or less forgotten it, but she had kept it, which was so sweet.

 

Jezxx

Edited August 31, 200717 yr by Jezabel

Continuing from yesterday as new vet Will, pays his first visit to Shaft Hall to see Mrs Beest-Broadbottom and her chiuahua "Mr Poo"....... ;)

 

'A little drinkie perhaps, Mr Young?' gushed Susanne Beest-Broadbottom, her talons twitching in the dappled sunlight.

 

William looked at his watch, it wasn't even 11am, but why not?, one couldn't do any harm .

 

' Er yes, thank you Mrs Beest-Broadbottom, I'll have a beer if you've got one'.

 

Susanne smiled to herself, 'I'll just ring for Ace', she said beaming. Suddenly, there was an almighty crash from upstairs, followed by the sound of frantic splashing.

 

Whilst Young jumped out of his delicious butterscotch coloured skin, Susanne remained tranquil, as she calmly turned her back and removed the top of the beer bottle with her pearly white teeth . Discreetly, from inside a compartment in her signet ring, she tipped a small amount of white powder into the bottle and carefully stirred it with her pinkie. She hoped he would drink this quickly, he was such a gorgeous specimen, she needed him 'relaxed', as soon as possible.

 

'Em, Mrs Beest-Broadbottom, I think somebody has had an accident', he ventured politely.

 

'No need to worry Mr Young, it will only be Ace, she really is such a clumsy girl'

 

'Well I really think we ought to investigate, it sounded a bit worrying'. Youngs' face was a picture of genuine concern.

 

DAMMIT!!, thought Susanne venomously.Trust Ace to delay the proceedings, that girl really was beginning to be a liability !!. However, desperate as she was, to go about her business, she did not wish to appear uncaring to him.

 

'You may be right Mr Young. Perhaps you will accompany me to the source of the furore?. Heaven only knows what has happened!! '

 

As she waddled up the curling spiralling stone staircase, ahead of him, Young decided her rear view looked like a garish circus tent which had collapsed over a horde of performing midgets . Pity the man who grappled with that, he thought silently!!.

 

They reached the top of the house and Susanne ceremoniously flung open the door to the servants quarters.The noise was fearful and it was emanating from the privvy!. What they witnessed when they peered inside, made Young unfortunately gulp his beer down in one.

 

Horribly drunk, Ace had gone to the loo and was unable to catch the chain in order to flush.In an attempt to secure a firmer grip, she had stood on the toilet bowl, but alas in her drunken state, she had omitted to put the seat down first. Whilst balancing precariously on the rim, she had tragically lost her footing and slipped into the toilet pan HEAD FIRST!!!.

 

This was a disaster of epic proportions in more ways than one.Firstly, she was stuck fast and in danger of drowning, secondly she had done 'number two's', which remained unflushed and therefore in situ .

 

By the time they had both extracted her, some twenty minutes later, she was not the only one gasping for air....

 

Downstairs, after some judicious fanning down and a beer, the colour had flooded back into Young's cheeks. Actually, he felt rather strange. Not drunk exactly, but in a sort of dream-like state.

 

He was aware of Mrs Beest-Broadbottom's voice sounding curiously husky and distant. He heard the word 'dance' and he saw her place a record on the gramaphone.

 

The staccato opening bars of a tango, rang out in the balmy air. Suddenly, he was upright and Mrs Beest-Broadbottoms' face was next to his. She was marching him back and forth across the Aubesson, with a grip like a docker in a strong man competition.

 

He felt her sweet breath on his sweating neck and heard the words 'lovely boy'. Briefly he became aware of a slight tugging sensation and the tinkling sound of his belt buckle as it was released. All the while, Susanne's triple decker lashes were brushing against his sunburnt cheek and the sensations were confusing. He could have sworn he felt a flutter down below.

 

This was no flutter!!. A veritable Shylock of the fly area, Susanne had accomplished her mission with deftness and a lightness of touch of the seasoned pickpocket. Her eyes were wide, as she marvelled at her prize.

 

He thought he heard the words 'beautiful stud' just before he passed out, but he couldn't be sure...

 

When he awoke, he was sitting intact, in his car, with a cheque for £50 on the dashboard. How he got there and what he had been paid for, he didn't know. One thing was sure, he had not even seen Mr Poo.

 

 

 

Mrs Beest-Broadbottom's coffee mornings were legendary.They were extravagant affairs with exotic dainty filigree pastries, aromatic beverages, sandwiches a glutton would kill for and without a doubt, the most delicious gossip in the entire village .

 

The morning after her furkle, :naughty: Susanne was holding court amidst the sweetmeats, whilst her guests sat open mouthed and agog at her revelations. Susanne stood amongst them, almost regal in her demeanour and somewhat demonic in her lasciviousness . She held her hands in front of her in demonstration, almost a foot apart, looking like a seasoned angler, regaling tall stories of a big catch;

 

'I'm not joking ladies', she boasted 'IT was enormous' !!!.'

 

The collective gasp of amazement was followed by high pitched, awestruck chatter and a gaggle of schoolgirl giggles. A frisson of excitement filled the air like a swarm of giddy bees and a plan was hatched .

 

Meanwhile, down in the village, Mr Worrall-Thompson was standing in his pet shop, Quilp-like in posture, due to a particularly ferocious childhood bout of rickets . He dragged on a soggy Woodbine and absent mindedly searched his beard for cat fleas, whilst reading an article on distemper in 'Dogs Are Us'.

 

He was about to put the closed sign on the door for lunch, when the Woodbine fell from his gaping mouth. Descending from every corner of the parade, were hordes of frantic, squealing, scrabbling, pushing , shoving, biting, kicking, hair pulling women, fighting to be first in his shop.

 

He was afraid, he was very afraid, he had never witnessed such violence !!.

 

Fish were being hooked out by hand, rats dangled carelessley by their tales, shivering kittens and puppies held close to heaving chests, spiders and snakes held aloft still in their tanks and budgies risking strangulation as they were rudely plucked from their perches, unable to finish their millett, by desperate shaking cupped hands.

 

By the time the onslaught was over, Mr Worrall-Thompson was £756 richer and almost completely wiped out of stock. The only living creatures still on the premises were himself, his ageing incontinent spaniel Wilfred and a barely flicking regurgitated guppy, that Reef had tried to swallow in order to be certain of a pet. It was fair to say that afternoon surgery at the vet's was destined to be a hectic affair.....to be continued....

 

Jezxx

 

 

 

 

 

:rofl:

 

Just love these descriptions:

 

As she waddled up the curling spiralling stone staircase, ahead of him, Young decided her rear view looked like a garish circus tent which had collapsed over a horde of performing midgets . Pity the man who grappled with that, he thought silently!!.

This was no flutter!!. A veritable Shylock of the fly area, Susanne had accomplished her mission with deftness and a lightness of touch of the seasoned pickpocket. Her eyes were wide, as she marvelled at her prize.

 

 

Welcome to the site Jezebel...love the story :dance:

 

 

Thanks for posting up the next installment suggy

Continuing our everyday story on life and love in Furkle-on-The-Marsh. :w00t:

 

William had feasted on an extremely agreeable lunch at The Worm And Weasel. Jez had given him every attention, although he did find her a little extreme at times . Poor old Foxy the dairy farmer , was just about to to fork up a golden, crunchy, plateful of steaming chips, when Jez had literally plundered his plate and shovelled off a handful to give extra to Will, 'because he was a growing boy' . When Foxy had protested, she somewhat harshly informed him that his 'gut was already big enough' and when he resisted, she poked him clean in the eye with her scarlet talon and whilst he was temporarily blinded callously took his plate. She clearly was not a woman to be trifled with .

 

However to give her her due, Will couldn't fault her attentions to him.He thought it a little unnecessary that she squeezed both his thighs very thoroughly under the table, as she seductively slid his glistening syrup sponge pudding in front of him, but it was obviously just her way. Having said that, it was a tad worrying when she put her hand inside his shirt before she gave him a spoon !!!.

 

Fortified by a hearty lunch, William decided to walk back to the surgery, to take in the air. He wondered idly if his first surgery would be busy; country folk could be a little odd about newcomers sometimes....

 

Since Mrs Beest-Broadbottom's coffee morning, news of William's undoubted attributes had spread round the village like warm honey on freshly baked bread.

 

Every female in Furkle- On- The- Marsh, except those officially certified dead, was determined to be at the gorgeous Will Young's first surgery, by fair means or foul.

 

The pet shop stampede had been one thing, but now several post operative patients in the Cottage Hospital had discharged themselves prematurely in order to be present and get a glimpse.

 

Fresh from a hysterectomy, Angie Harttohart was not to be deterred. She could be seen over the brow of the hill, as a veritable blur, burning up the two miles betwixt hospital and vets in a stolen wheelchair, her vermillion candlewick dressing gown billowing in the slipstream, like the flames of the Batmobile .

 

Worse still, Soozie Sherlock, resident village floozy and legendary chainsmoking hairdresser,had only yesterday experienced an untimely awakening during a breast enlargement operation. The operation was halted, with her left side at a surgically enhanced 44G, whilst the right sat resolutely like a stubborn poached egg, at 34B . She had resisted entreaties from her surgeon to complete the process today and instead had discharged herself, in order to take her polecat , Percy , to the surgery.

 

As she strutted along lopsidely, she hoped that the ruched, off the shoulder gypsy top she had selected went some way to disguising her asymmetrical plight...

 

 

As Young approached the surgery, the most extraordinary sight met his eyes, it was like a crowd scene from Ben Hur . There appeared to be a queue, 5 deep, snaking all the way back to the bakers in the next street. He pondered on the possibility that there might be an impending bread shortage, except the throng were all facing the surgery .

 

Fuller, not expecting too much activity on a Wednesday afternoon, had sloped off, leaving Young to it, to pursue some activities of his own....

 

Up above the pub, Jez was pacing the bedroom, creaking menacingly in a leather catsuit, whilst idly tapping a cheese grater, on her formidable thigh .

 

Fuller lay spreadeagled and lashed to the bedposts, by four of Chuck's best studded collars. Chuck eyed him with silent loathing and made a mental note to bite his willy, next time his mistress was out of clouting range .

 

'So Mr Fuller' said Jez with low voltage sadism, 'tell me once again just how naughty you've been this week'

 

'Very naughty Jez' gulped Fuller

 

'Very naughty?, I see. I think in that case you must eat another tripe flavoured doggie treat and I want to see you crunch every last, little crumb and tell me how delicious it is'.

 

Chuck narrowed one eye and growled almost imperceptably, from the very corner of his little furry muzzle. Christ now the bast**d was even taking his bloody food !!.

 

As Fuller struggled with the last gritty remenants, Jez strode forward and snapped,

 

'NOT QUICK ENOUGH!, time for the worming tablet and NO water '

 

'Jez please' pleaded Fuller, I was on the toilet for three days last time.

 

Jez considered his request. 'OK, you are excused on this occasion'. She raised the metal grater so it glinted with inanimate malice in the sunlight.

 

'Time for your grating Mr Fuller' !! .

 

Fuller's feeble cries were borne off on the breeze, as down in the next street, Young struggled to get into the surgery. If outside was bad, inside was Hades. Not a single inch of space remained unutilized. Female villagers of all shapes and sizes, pinned themselves to walls, sat on toliets with the seats down, perched on the reception desk and two even clung like apes from the fire escape steps. Every mangy, spitting, mewing, barking, yelping, slithering, scuttling piece of wildlife in the village, was there for his first surgery that afternoon and then of course,

they had bought their animals with them ...to be continued.....

 

Jezxx

 

 

:lol: Thanks suggy.

:lol:

Another day in Furkle-On-The-Marsh for the new vet and the story continues..... :coffee:

 

http://www.rachelspets.com/images/main_pic_chinchillas.jpg

 

Young fought his way to the consulting room, followed by Lainey the pretty practice nurse. Lainey was squirming with discomfort. Not only was it hell out there, but she had dressed entirely inappropriately for her day's work .

 

Eager to impress and make the most of her assets, she had purchased a new 'Amaza' bra, which the shop assistant had assured her would maximize her potential. She had also advised her to buy a cup size smaller to make the piggies snug' as she had so charmingly put it.

 

Now poor Lainey's bigged up boobies, looked like two quivering, pale pink, souffles on the rise. They were hoisted at such an acute angle, her vision was restricted and her breathing was seriously impaired. Added to this, she had also purchased some matching 'Midriff Muncher' panties, guaranteed to make your waist the size of a starving wasp's thorax. The overall effect was extraordinary, she made Barbie look obese. If it wasn't for the fact that her lips were blue from lack of oxygen, she would have looked very fetching indeed.

 

Young took in her shallow breathing and her geisha like steps. He hoped to Christ, she'd make it through the afternoon, otherwise he was in real trouble!.

 

Meanwhile, Lucy, the receptionist, was seething in the melee outside. Desperate to compete with her considerably more well endowed colleague, she had been incensed to arrive this afternoon, to find herself out manoevered by an atomic brassiere . In order to redress the balance, she had customized the cups on her teen-form bra, by cutting them lower and inserting two polystyrene rounds, she had discovered in a box protecting a new pair of headphones. The effect had been genuinely pleasing until Ace, boss eyed and boozy, had elbowed first one, then the other, whilst trying to view the appointment book.

Now, she was left with a bra full of polystyrene chippings, which embarassingly kept snowing over the reception area every time she bent forward .

 

Young put on his white coat and Lainey tried hard not to pass out completely, as she looked at his lean waist, tapering into camel coloured cords.

 

Lucy banged on the reception desk with her shoe, sending a shower of polystyrene heavenward.

 

'Rosemary Burningup?, Mr Young will see you now'.

 

Rosemary pushed through the consulting room with indecent haste. Her pet was in a covered carrier and showed no signs of obvious distress by scampering about. It soon became apparent why .

 

Young smiled genially ' Well Rosemary, what seems to be the matter with Mandrake here?'.

 

He uncovered the basket and looked closely at the supine and suspiciously limp figure of a large grey rabbit, which smelt appallngly.

 

'Well Mr Young', blushed Rosemary 'he's been right off his food lately'.

 

With infinite care and tenderness, Young removed the rabbit from his basket, upon which, it was blatantly obvious, he was as dead as a spent match.

 

Young bit his bottom lip provokingly and Rosemary's ovaries did a barn dance with the rest of her internal organs . He put a reassuring arm around her shoulders, diplomatically avoiding the collar of dandruff on her cardigan.

 

'Em , Rosemary, I am very sorry to tell you that Mandrake has passed away'

 

'Oh I know Mr Young' replied Rosemary, completely unabashed 'he died a week last Tuesday, I was just wondering if there was anything you might be able to do for him?'.

 

William looked at Rosemary with growing fear. He wondered if Fuller might agree to have a panic button installed.

 

Carefully ushering her to the door, he watched as the next patient was shown in by an increasingly breathless Lainey.

 

Well thank God he thought, at least Anne Willurraah had a live animal, two in fact,a pair of rather adorable chinchilla's called bafflingly, 'Squirrel' and 'Chipmunk'.

 

' I won't be a moment' he smiled apologetically, 'just need to wash my hands. If you'd like to get those two little fellows out for me'.

 

As he turned to reach for the towel, he almost cried out in shock. For Anne's interpretation of 'two little fellows' had clearly not been in accordance with his. She was sitting there topless, with the chinchilla's still safely caged .

 

Some bodies are designer gowns, others are industrial overalls. Sadly, Anne's fell into the later category. As Young desperately reached for a blanket to cover her flapping breasts, he shouted at Lainey to help. Alas the clasp of the 'Amaza ' gave way and her assets pinged forward like two projectile blancmonge's . Young stood in his surgery awash with boobies and wondered if worse was to come, sadly it was...to be continued......

 

Jezxx

Thanks Suggy and jezabel :lol:

' I won't be a moment' he smiled apologetically, 'just need to wash my hands. If you'd like to get those two little fellows out for me'.

 

As he turned to reach for the towel, he almost cried out in shock. For Anne's interpretation of 'two little fellows' had clearly not been in accordance with his. She was sitting there topless, with the chinchilla's still safely caged.

 

Some bodies are designer gowns, others are industrial overalls. Sadly, Anne's fell into the later category. As Young desperately reached for a blanket to cover her flapping breasts, he shouted at Lainey to help. Alas the clasp of the 'Amaza ' gave way and her assets pinged forward like two projectile blancmonge's . Young stood in his surgery awash with boobies and wondered if worse was to come, sadly it was

 

Oh my god :rofl:

 

Thanks Suggy.

Edited September 3, 200717 yr by munchkin

she had also purchased some matching 'Midriff Muncher' panties, guaranteed to make your waist the size of a starving wasp's thorax. The overall effect was extraordinary, she made Barbie look obese.

 

This line is a killer as well. :lol:

I recall one of the girls who won a M&G saying - I wonder if he doesn't feel just a little bit anxious when he sees heaving bosoms homing in on him :w00t: :lol:

I recall one of the girls who won a M&G saying - I wonder if he doesn't feel just a little bit anxious when he sees heaving bosoms homing in on him :w00t: :lol:

 

I think I deserve a seat at that dinner table. He wouldn't feel at all anxious with me. :lol:

 

 

This made me chuckle. :lol:

 

Young bit his bottom lip provokingly and Rosemary's ovaries did a barn dance with the rest of her internal organs . He put a reassuring arm around her shoulders, diplomatically avoiding the collar of dandruff on her cardigan.

Onward ever onward, another episode from Furkle-On-The-Marsh's inhabitants. :lol:

 

Having wrapped Anne up in a spare dog blanket, Will sent her out the back way and peered gingerely through the crack in the door at the hordes still waiting in reception. Surely to God, some of them must be normal?

 

With sufficient oxygen released to her brain and her boobies hastily bundled back in, Lainey was mortified but at least she was now firing on all cylinders and able to assist. She had also taken the precaution of releasing her aching waist by utilizing the small scalpel, to cut through her 'Midriff Muncher' panties; freedom felt SO good .

 

With the next patient approaching, Young forced a smile and got ready to greet them in a friendly and professional manner. This was somewhat tricky. Sue Lemonade was a whole lot of woman, indeed, she made Dolly Parton look like a pre-pubescent boy. Her recklessly plunging, rhinestone encrusted, silver, backless gown and thigh high, spiked white patent boots , could have been viewed as extreme attire for a visit to the vet's, but this was normal garb for Sue. She was quite often to be seen at her kitchen window, merrily washing up, whilst sporting a see through, black baby doll nightie, with furry pom-pom nipple covers and a black sequinned cat mask gracing her brow. Sue liked to live life to the full .

 

Young breathed deeply, he could feel his hands trembling. He tried to sound casual 'So Sue, what can I do for you today?'.

 

She flashed him an overtly suggestive smile, revealing a ruby glinting in her front tooth.

 

'Well Mr Young', her husky voice caressed his ears 'I was rather hoping you would look at my p*ssy '.

 

Young clutched the table for support, this had gone far enough!!.

 

'Ms Lemonade, I am getting very cross now. Do you or don't you have a sick animal for me to see?'

 

She smirked, 'Why, Mr Young, I can't imagine what you mean. I need you to examine my Tallulah'

 

So that's what they were calling it these days!. Young felt his knees bend, she was going to eat him alive, and all Lainey could bloody well do was stand there pointing stupidly at the floor.

 

'Ms Lemonade, I really think'....but his voice trailed off and he blushed deeply with embarrassment , as a small 'meow' emitted from a basket on the floor behind Sue. He gulped with shame.

 

'Ok then eh, let's, eh see what we can do for the little chappie'. He found he could not open the straps to the cat basket without assistance...

 

After Sue Lemonade, Young had to sit and drink a strong sweet cup of tea. Was it him or were the clients all women? and why were they all so predatory?.

 

It was with a certain relief, that he greeted his next appointment, Mr Sneddon, the muck spreader from 'Way Hay Farm'.

 

However, Sneddon might have been male, but it has to be said he was indeed a tragic specimen. Years of honing his craft, had left him with a riot of rural odours permanently clinging to his weedy body and his little rodent-like face was quite often smeared with the tools of his trade. He made the tragic Dickensian waif, Smike, look like a Chippendale and Young noticed he had an unnerving habit of manipulating his hands inside his greatcoat at a suspiciously irreverant angle.

 

Sneddon was a mystery and a village legend surrounding his nocturnal habits had persisted for some time . Rumour had it that he smeared the savoury spread Marmite on some particularly unsavoury body parts, took to the woods, disrobed and waited for interested parties, animal, vegetable or mineral to examine his coating . Where Sneddon was concerned, the ad man's tag line, 'My Mate Marmite' was a truism in every sense of the word.

 

Reassuringly though, he did produce a live breathing ferret, from his grubby pocket, which had a genuine attack of the mange. Scrofolous though he was, Young was relieved to be dealing with a genuine case, although he cringed when he shook his bony little hand, as Sneddon shuffled out.

 

Sadly, in her eagerness to be seen, Ace was hurtling towards the consulting room door. As Sneddon shuffled out and Ace ran in , an almighty collision occurred, which resulted in Ace being headbutted in the most vicious way.

 

She may have had a tooth knocked out and blood streaming from her nose, but one whiff of Sneddon's pheromones and she was in love. There was a curiously, beefy savoury smell about him, she couldn't quite pin point it, but it made the hairs on the back of her neck and indeed on her chin stand on end.

 

Young had Lainey prepare a hasty ice-pack and whilst Ace held it to her throbbing hooter, he examined her 'pets' as best he could. Her request for him to sex four woodlice wrapped in a tissue proved a career challenge he had not previously experienced and he was ashamed to say, he fibbed.

 

The coughing that acompanied his next client would have made a consumptive sound fit enough to triple jump for England.

 

Soozie Sherlock tottered in on a pair of legs so spindly, it was a miracle that nobody had picked them up and tried to whittle the ends in a pencil sharpener.This was not helped by her insistence on wearing red fishnet stockings.

 

Her legs now bore a tragic resemblence to two discarded satsuma bags, with a drinking straw inserted in each.

 

Young noticed that the fingers of her right hand were an extraordinary colour ranging from peat to ochre on the spectrum. As she moved, tiny wisps of ash fluttered to the floor around her.

 

When Soozie removed her raincoat, Young tried his damndest not to stare, as one of her breasts appeared to be wandering across her entire chest in waves. She caught his frightened gaze.

 

'Don't worry Mr Young, that's only Percy', she explained, as the startled head of her pet polecat appeared from above her scooped neckline.

 

Young examined Percy's teeth as requested and tried not to notice the deflated zeppellin of one side of her cleavage, it really was most disconcerting.

 

'Any chance of me using the toilet Mr Young'? asked Soozie, crossing her legs, 'only, I need to tiddle and my pelivc floor is not what it was'.

 

Fearing an accident of the worst kind, he agreed and showed her to the lavatory. Whilst she was occupied, he crossed the room to open a window and let some much needed fresh air into the surgery .

 

The door to the toilet was slightly ajar and Soozie Sherlock was standing up to pee and that definitely was NOT a chipolata in her hand. Young had stumbled across a well kept secret. Stan Sherlock, former village coalman and master poker player had reinvented himself after a sabbatical in London and a crash course in hairdressing... to be continued.....

 

Jezxx

She flashed him an overtly suggestive smile, revealing a ruby glinting in her front tooth.

 

'Well Mr Young', her husky voice caressed his ears 'I was rather hoping you would look at my p*ssy '.

 

Young clutched the table for support, this had gone far enough!!.

The door to the toilet was slightly ajar and Soozie Sherlock was standing up to pee and that definitely was NOT a chipolata in her hand.

 

:lol: Oh I love this - Sue Lemonade and Lainey :P

Can't wait for the next installment, this really is hilarious. :lol:

Thanks for the new installment

Loving the colourful Furkle-On-The-Marsh's inhabitants. :lol:

Young's traumatic first day at the veterinary sugery has finally ended ...................

 

With the surgery at an end, after four frightening, shocking, revealing hours, Young sat alone at the dining room table with a large mug of sweet tea, boosted with a shot of Sanatogen Tonic Wine and a bread and butter plate, containing what appeared to be a small, smoking cannon ball with a pat of butter beside it. Linda had been baking scones today .

 

He looked around the cosy decor of the faded chintzy dining room and reassured himself that things could only get better. It had been such a hectic day, he hadn't even opened his post. He picked up a bundle and started to peruse it.There was a good luck card from his parents and his twin brother Rupert, a bill from his college for some library books that he had forgotten to return and a large purple envelope, with a local postmark. When he opened it, he found it contained a strange object wrapped in scented paper. It looked like some sort of root, but he couldn't identify it, there was also a lock of fair silky hair and when he studied the paper, it had odd runic symbols all over it. He had no idea why he should be the recipient of something like this and made a mental note to ask Fuller about it when he saw him. Where the bloody hell was Fuller anyway?, he wondered. He'd been gone practically all day!.

 

What caught his eye most of all however was a brightly coloured card. It sported an extraordinary garish border, of illustrated turnips, potatoes, carrots leeks and corn. It was in fact an invitation to the harvest dance, a week on Saturday, 'formal dress required'.

 

This perked him up no end, he loved a good drink and a carnival atmosphere and he resolved there and then to go . Now all he had to do, was find a pretty girl to be his partner for the evening....

 

Linda lay next to Will in the cool grass, he was smiling down on her, his beautiful faced creased in merriment, as he dropped juicy strwberries into her open mouth.

 

It was blisteringly hot and he had taken off his shirt, to reveal a lightly tanned, lean hard chest, glistening in the sun like the shell of a glossy toffee apple .

 

He tenderly stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and she felt the shock waves melt her sandals . Now, he leaned to kiss her, his gaze intense, his full lips moist . She reached up to meet those luscious lips, but suddenly she felt tickling all over her face and her mouth was full of grass, she was desperately trying to spit it out, but it just kept coming...

 

Just then, the alarm went off and Linda woke to find the tassels from her candlewick bedspread in her mouth and a sizeable portion already eaten, she felt sick with bedspread and disappointment. She got up wearily, there was breakfast to burn, before she started on the cleaning. The only sliver of hope she still held onto, was that he might, just might, ask her to the harvest dance. She dragged on her nylon quilted dressing gown, with Peter Rabbit on the pocket and sighed 'dream on Linda' and she knew that every woman in the village felt the same.

 

If the truth were known, not EVERY woman felt like this, for Ace, there was now only one man.

 

Since their collision in the surgery, Ace had fantasised about Sneddon the muck spreader, day and night. She had sneaked off from her domestic duties at every opportunity, to gaze at him askew, from afar, whilst he sprayed and dolloped his day away.

 

She had been careful not to be spotted, as she couldn't be sure he felt the same, but she was getting so desperate for contact, she was very nearly going out of her extremely tiny mind.

 

Only last Wednesday, driven by unsatiated desire, she had been to the drapers, to purchase some black and white fur fabric. Out of this she fashioned a crude hood, donned a black dress and pink shoes and took to the woods after dark. Her hope was, that in the poor light, Sneddon would mistake her for a passing badger and reveal his savoury treat for inspection .

 

She waited three hours and Sneddon was nowhere to be seen . All she saw, were some funny people dancing inside a big white star. Some were nude and she thought she recognized the fleabites proliferting on Mr Worrall Tompsons bottom, as she had often seen him yank his trousers down for a good scratch, in public. She could also see a lady with her boobies out displaying a large glinting amulet nestling between them. She was wearing a crown weaved from poppies and ivy and sitting on a big high backed chair made of sticks, with fiery torches being held aloft, by some hooded figures. It looked a bit like Jez from the pub and the others were skipping round her chanting;

 

'Hail Queen Mab, bringer of dark, unspeakable pleasures'.

 

She decided it was all decidedly dodgy and beat a hasty retreat. However, the crudely cut eye holes in her badgers hood had swivelled round slightly and Ace hit a huge oak with such force her three remaining teeth were knocked clean down her throat and she was laid out cold. She awoke next morning with the headache from hell to find a large male badger mating furiously with her arm...to be continued....

 

Jezxx

Cheers for that, suggy. :)