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   Chapter 11 No.11

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 5213

Updated: 2018-02-07 12:01

Beatrice tried to get comfortable in her bed and wriggled what she could of her back against the crinkled sheets. How Sheryl could not make a bed properly was beyond her. She flicked on the sidelight, and then pressed the up button on her bed. Shaking her flask of hot chocolate that was really lukewarm, she poured some and began to plan her trip to Oban.

Sheryl didn't know it yet; but it was just a question of persuasion.

Beatrice pictured herself, wheeling down the aisle straight to the front row, with a view so close she would be able to see the sweat rolling down the wrestlers' bodies.

She was going to yell her head off!

She poured some whisky into her lukewarm hot chocolate, tuned her TV to wrestling replays, turned off her light, and in the dark she imagined herself there, this time without the wheelchair.

The next morning, Steven appeared at the door with a manual under one arm, a bag of exotic groceries in the other and a bottle of Mr. Muscle swinging from his belt. Steven had come back for more. Beatrice let him in and watched him begin to make coffee, which she knew would taste as good as it smelt.

The night before, Steven had walked home nonplussed by what he had seen. His head hung low as he thought of Sheryl getting all hot and bothered over some American wrestler. How could he, a small librarian with a talent for cooking and writing unpublished novels, win the heart of Sheryl? How could he make her notice him, apart from falling off a ladder? He took a hot chocolate to bed and slept on his thoughts, and the

'Just Sheryl's underwear, ' said Beatrice, with an extra loud voice, she watched Steven blush, then reversed her chair across the room, just missing George's feet. 'And she wanting Sheryl's to go with her to the wrestling.'

Ah, so that's what's eating her, thought George, he watched Beatrice complete another lap of the kitchen. He had met many women in his time, but none as transparent as Beatrice. 'Did she not ask you to come then?' he said.

'As if I would want to go with that bony woman, ' snapped Beatrice.

Sheryl eased herself up from the sink and stretched her solid back. Steven watched, mesmerized by her powerful frame. What she needs he thought, is some luxury, something to make her smile; he took out some extra dark chocolate from his grocery bag. Sheryl's coffee is going to be the dog's bollocks, he thought. It was going to be everything a coffee should be: rich, strong, with just a hint of something more. All he needed now was some milk, which wasn't on the turn, feeling positive, he opened the fridge.

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