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   Chapter 20 No.20

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 5236

Updated: 2018-02-07 12:01

'Now that is a bum a girl could get used to!' said Mavis. 'Large men make the best lovers; men who love food have a love for all things sensual.'

'I'm a big boy, Mavis, ' said Duncan.

A chuckle ran through the bar, which stopped with a hush as Sheryl finished on a bull's eye. She pushed her empty glass across the bar to Shifty, who lifted and placed it under the optic, the ice had hardly melted.

'My ex had a large rump, ' said Kay. 'And there was nothing sensual about him; watching him tuck into a plate of chips was enough to put any one off IT!'

'What about old Chinnie? He's well-rounded, ' said Shifty. 'And your neighbour don't seem to mind. As soon as her man's out the door, he is in there like a ferret up a trouser leg.'

'Aye, but I've heard he's built like a horse, ' said Kay.

'Tackle's not everything, ' muttered Duncan.

Steven looked on, considering a hasty retreat. The mere mention of a man's tackle sent shivers down his back. Having grown up with three sisters, he had heard it all too many times. He got all his sex education through the walls of his bedroom, while staring at his action man comics. Thanks to his sisters, he knew what women wanted and what they didn't. To him, it seemed the prospect of pleasing a woman was as easy as the plumbing in Beatrice's house.

After three games, Sheryl ordered some sparkling wine and pork scratchings for 'all'. Everything was great in the world, and she just had to share it, Martin wanted her, she was playing like a dream (and beating her mother) and she was going to meet Joh

How could he show Rodger's work without Rodger? He needed him there to sign cards, chat up the clients and look interesting. He needed his consent.

This is an absolute nightmare, thought Martin; he cursed Nefertiti over his Espresso machine. 'What the hell is wrong with having your fanny painted?' he muttered. 'I mean, a woman her age, she should be grateful someone still wants to look at it.'

Martin looked in on Rodger lying on the couch, mumbling in French, he was a loony of the worse kind, unpredictable, impractical and totally smitten with a woman who thought she was God's answer to every man's fantasy. Did he mean what he said about burning every painting?

He had thought about cancelling the whole thing but there were more than fifty folk invited, and there were the pieces written by Imogene in the local papers, and The Herald for God's sake. He knew of at least ten folk who were coming from Glasgow. He shook his head and poured his second espresso, he needed caffeine bad, and he needed the coffee shakes to think.

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