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   Chapter 4 No.4

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 5092

Updated: 2018-02-07 12:01

Sheryl tugged harder on the seized lock, but it refused to budge. 'I've decided I don't need a man, ' she said.

'Women usually say that when they haven't had their hole for ages, and there is no hope on the horizon. It makes them feel like they have a choice, ' said Beatrice, while watching the TV.

Johnston stood in the centre of the ring. The only thing that covered his six-foot dark frame was a pair of tight leather underpants cut high around his backside.

Sheryl sprayed WD 40 on the lock and gave it a sharp pull.

'You never did like Martin, did you?'

'Well, no mother likes to see her daughter hitch up with a married man; it means he is used to lying!'

'I told you, it was an open relationship.' Sheryl tried the lock again 'It was all above board.' The handle came off in her hand.

Beatrice turned up the volume of the TV. Johnston ran from one side of the ring to the other before climbing onto one of the corner posts and holding his arms in the air. The crowd cheered and began throwing knickers.

Steel Ice entered the ring. He had a tight butt, which he chose to show off in a pair of leopard print leggings. He picked up one of the underpants from the floor, rubbed it under his armpits and tossed it into the audience. The crowd booed.

Steel Ice and Johnston circled the ring. Johnston's back foot slid on a pair of lacy knickers. Steel Ice grabbed his leg and bent it backwards, Johnston put on a good show of pain

'You were still second best.'

'For the love of GOD!' shouted one of the commentators.

Sheryl looked at the handle in her hand then went downstairs to her toolbox.

Steel Ice crashed down on Johnston's leg with his knee. When Steel Ice stood up, Johnston rolled over and slid under the ropes and out of the ring. Steel Ice followed, picked up a chair and ran towards Johnston.

'Where is his wife now?' Beatrice yelled. 'She's in his house, well set up.'

Sheryl stared at her father's box of tools; she picked it up along with her drill and walked back to the bedroom.

'Why did you have to fool around with HIM for? You've got nothing now.'

Sheryl turned on the drill.

'I'll get by somehow, ' she yelled over the noise.

'Get by? How will you get by? You were working for 'hands on Martin' remember, not much reference that.'

Sheryl pulled apart the old lock and tossed it in the bin. Her thoughts drifted to Martin.

The first time she had met him was in the Argyll. Martin had just opened an underwear shop called Peek-a-Boo in Lochgilphead, everyone th

ought he was mad. Lochgilphead was a small town. Small enough to be satisfied with a Co-op the size of newsagents, and an even smaller Spar, how could an underwear shop pay? But Martin had ideas; he wanted to move up in the world and underwear with a difference was the way to go, that and some adult toys.

He walked into the Argyll and saw Sheryl knocking back the whisky, and singing Dolly Parton songs to Shifty. Shifty was trying to shut her up by offering her a cigarette. Martin at the time had a passion for big ballsy women, and Sheryl with a drink in her was ballsy, and big. He sidled up beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. Sheryl, still singing to Dolly Parton, spun around on her stool and skidded onto the floor. Martin was in lust.

'Run my shop for me, ' he said, helping her to her feet.

Sheryl looked in to his puffy face and thought, Why not?

Those were the days, thought Sheryl, pulling the new lock out of its packet. She started her drill again.

It took Martin a couple of weeks to get past first base with Sheryl, but once she let his small round body into her bed, she was hooked. Martin pressed all the right buttons, and on a good day, he made her laugh. What did she care what her mother or anyone said. Martin made her happy, in the beginning.

But there are only so many ways you can flog a vibrator, and Martin began to look elsewhere to make money. He bought a shop in Oban and turned it into an art gallery. 'Tourism, not sex, is the answer, ' he had said, and hired Imogene the calligrapher to run the shop, then Martin went all arty-farty.

The crowd on the TV were cheering louder, baying for Johnston's blood. Steel Ice crashed the chair on Johnston's back, and he fell to the floor; Johnston didn't move.

'What the hell do women see in Martin? I mean, what sort of grown man drives a sports car in Lochgilphead?' said Beatrice.

'HE LIKED intelligent women, ' Sheryl muttered, checking the lock one more time and than closing the window.

'He just said that so you wouldn't notice him staring at other women's tits.'

Sheryl looked at the TV; Johnston's beautiful black body was being carried off on a stretcher. 'His new woman has a body that defies gravity!' she said, 'He'll not be looking elsewhere now.'

'The baby will see to that!' snapped Beatrice.

Sheryl said nothing; she had seen his new 'piece', as Beatrice liked to call her, and thought it would take more than a baby to dislodge her assets. She stared at the TV, waiting for Johnston to return.


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