Working Girl~Dreams Are Like Angels

I wasn’t too bad looking. At 20 and a bit years old, I didn’t have those nooks and crannies that some women have when they get a bit older. Things hadn’t started to go south yet either, you know, droopy boobs, saggy tummy and a bum that looked like orange peal...

AngelWorking Girl
Dreams Are Like Angels

Susan Brown

Dreams are like angels
They keep bad at bay-bad at bay
Love is the light
Scaring darkness away-yeah
Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

I looked in the mirror and frowned.

I wasn’t too bad looking. At 20 and a bit years old, I didn’t have those nooks and crannies that some women have when they get a bit older. Things hadn’t started to go south yet either, you know, droopy boobs, saggy tummy and a bum that looked like orange peal.

I should have been happy, but I wasn’t.

Last month, I had had a Dear John type letter, but it had not been to a John, but to me, Toni Summers.

My Tim had left me and gone elsewhere to find love, happiness and nookie.

I couldn’t give him what he wanted—sex in a conventional way, well not yet anyway, as I hadn’t been fixed. Tim was a full blooded man who needed three square meals and a reasonable amount of bedroom gymnastics…

I’m getting ahead of myself.

My Name is Toni Summers and up until I was 18, I was sort of a male. Well that might be a wee bit of an exaggeration, as I was always a bit, shall we say, smallish and weedy and maybe a tiny bit efem…eafamin…erm, girly.

For those of you who haven’t read my previous adventures (see the bottom of this whatsit for details). I was flung into femaleness by a set of circumstances that would be laughable if it had happened to anyone else but me.

In short, I went for a job and the company thought that I was a girl after reading my CV and letter. It didn’t help that the job was secretarial and most people still think of secretaries as being female. Hence my name changed from Tony to Toni in the blink of an eye.

Sheila, my friend, mentor and person who kicks me up the backside as and when necessary had persuaded me to go to the interview as a girl and the rest, as they say, was history.

At first, I didn’t like all the girly stuff, up to and including the incredible amount of time girls take to get themselves presentable. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on your viewpoint, I got over my misgivings although I say so myself, I scrubbed up rather well as a girl and somehow managed to get the job.

It took a while for me to get used to the girliehoodinest of my situation, but gradually I came to like and then accept the fact that I made a much better girl than I ever did as a boy—and anyway, the clothes were neat and I had a fetish for heels that was far too freaky to be normal for a bloke.

Anyway, after a series of adventures and mishaps involving a number of loveable and not so loveable characters, I found myself where I was now.

Work wise things were going OK, helped by the fact that found out that my Uncle owned the company I worked for.

Nepotism rules—yay!

Up to a little while ago I was a happy bunny. Then it happened and my world fell apart. My one and only boyfriend had buggered off and left me sans-man as the Germans say.

Sheila, my BFF had gone off on a cruise with her captain lover. After going through most of the men (and a few women) in the UK, she had finally settled down and it looked like it was true love this time. She had been engaged more times than I could remember and I just hoped that intense nookie on the high seas with her captain, on The Love Boat would end happily ever after.

Back to me; I was all alone in the world, romantic wise and I was trying my best to get over my dream boat—Tim and trying to sail out into the murky world of finding someone who could be my one and Only True Love.

Enough of the meter..matter, metaf…erm allusions or is that illusions?, I had to dust myself off and get out there my best dress and heels and snag a man who didn’t mind my still having extra bits.

I was now heavily into drugs—not those kinds of drugs—the type that made my falsies superfluous and gave me a shape that no one could mistake as manly. If I was a good little girl and took my medications and say the right things to my psychiatrist, I would be allowed to have the supper… superflour....extra bit that sticks out, turned inside out so I can have my very own gavina!

Mind you, I didn’t much fancy going under the knife, as I was a class one coward. I just hoped that when the time came, they would knock me out and not be in one of those waking up on the operating table type disaster situations.

My little black dress looked nice on me and my shiny new black three-inch heels too. After painstakingly putting on my makeup, I looked quite reasonable, not as good as Sheila, who would look great just wearing a black bin liner, but not too bad at all.

I picked up the card from the telephone table—that’s the table where I keep my telephone—and looked yet again at the card, which arrived mysteriously in my letterbox, together with the post, just the previous day.

St Valentine's Dinner and Dance.

This is the place to go for all you lonely hearts out there. We will wine you, dine you and introduce you to others in a similar situation to you.

We have carefully selected from our exclusive Lonely Hearts Database, a number of fun people for you to meet and have a good time.

Why be alone when you can be together with the one for you.

Tickets only  £290.00, which includes a free glass of a Champagne like drink and nibbles.


In tiny writing at the bottom, there was some sort of disclaimer about errors and omissions and them not being responsible for anything, but I ignored that, as who actually reads the small print?

The other side gave directions to the Railway Sidings Hotel.

I was lucky, as the hotel was just a taxi ride away from my flat. I looked at my dainty little watch and I saw that the taxi should be arriving very soon.

I checked my handbag and made sure that I had everything I needed. According to all the TG stories that I had ever read, I had to have things like a spare pare of panties, tights and in particular, some tampons, as evidently, many girls forgot to take them with them and I might need to give a helping hand.

I don’t want to give the impression that I am thick. I’m quite clever really and actually got a scripture prize in Junior School. I could type now using at least two fingers of each hand on the keyboard, isn’t that cool?

I knew about men too. True, I had only ever had one boyfriend, but how many do you need to get to be an expert? My BFF Sheila gave me what she called a Men 101 course and she told me all that she knew about men. It took about a month of intensive lessons including spreadsheets, diagrams and naughty pictures, but I was pretty sure now about what was what.

I put on my coat, as it was cold outside and then looked through the curtains. Just then, a black car pulled up outside. In our town, we didn’t have the traditional London Type taxis, but others of all shapes and sizes. I knew that this was a taxi as it had a light on the roof that said TAXI. He beeped me with his hooter thingie and I knew that this was my ride.

One last look at my face and hair and I went out, locking the door behind me.

I nearly fell over down the stairs, as the lift wasn’t working again. I spent a fortune on that flat and I thought that it was a bit thick that the damn thing was always out of order.

The heels of my cool shoes were maybe four inch, rather than three, I would have to check when I got home again after my wonderful evening, but they were a bit stilt like and difficult to walk in, hence the nearly falling downstairs incident. I hoped that the new love of my life would hold me firmly when I was swept off to the dance floor in his wonderfully strong, manly arms.

Slightly breathlessly, I reached the bottom of the stairs and made my way out into the cold February evening.

I went over to the car and the driver looked up at me. I thought that I recognised him, but he had one of those instantly forgettable faces so I forgot about that and went to let myself in the rear door.

‘Sit next to me,’ he said, ‘the heater is warmer in the front.’

‘That’s kind of him to think of my welfare’, I thought as I opened the passenger door and with some difficulty, due to my short dress and shoe situation, got in the car.

I managed to get in without any knicker exposure incidents, which would have possibly caused embarrassment to myself and the taxi driver.

‘Railway Sidings Hotel love?’

‘That’s right, thanks.’

I thought that I recognised his voice, but just shrugged, all men sounded the same to me, well some of them, maybe a few…anyway, I was too excited to think of anything else apart from the fact that I was going to go to a dinner dance where my love life could be resurrected from the dead place that it had been since receiving that letter.

We passed a few streets that I knew well and then into a slightly less desirable area where the buildings needed more than a little lick of paint.

We stopped at the traffic lights.

A few women were standing under streetlights, talking away to each other and being quite friendly as they waved at passing cars. They looked a bit cold as they didn’t have coats and their dresses looked even shorter than mine.

I went sort of introspectacle and sighed; life had been a sort of roller coaster for some time. Now I was a grown up, sophisticated woman and able to cope with things in a mature, grown up way…

The lights changed and for some reason, the taxi driver was slow to move off as he seemed interested what the girls were doing by the streetlamps. Someone beeped him from behind and he just scowled and moved off.

There was something about that scowl that tickled my memory, but I soon forgot as we got ever nearer to the hotel.

The blast from the car heater made me feel rather warm, so I undid my coat and the top button of my blouse.

I think that the driver must have been an asthma sufferer, as his breathing got a bit heavy at that point.

We were deep in the industrial part of town now and the roads were pretty empty of traffic. However, for some reason, the taxi driver pulled over and switched the engine off.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘The cars run out of petrol. I’ll call the AA in a minute, have a drink while we’re waiting. He pulled out a small bottle of whisky, took a few gulps and then tried to pass it to me.

I refused the drink and then pointed out a few things out to him.

‘The gauge thingie said it was nearly full; I noticed it when we were driving along, and by the way, you were at least one mile per hour over the speed limit on a couple of occasions.’

‘Never mind that,’ he replied, taking another swig, ‘I remember you.’

‘Isn’t that a song by Frank Ifield?’

‘No, what? Never mind that. You were that girl who got me into trouble with the police a couple of years ago.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yea, you took the piss…’

‘Don’t swear, it’s not nice.’

‘Bugger nice, I had a good job as a rep for a hosiery manufacturer, but I got a criminal record because of you.’

‘Why me?’ I squeaked.

‘I thought that you were on the game…’

‘I don’t like games, too much sweat involved, although I do like the card game Snap, ooh and Happy Families…’

‘Bugger snap and f*c* Happy Families.’

‘There you go swearing again, potty mouth, I don’t know what you are talking abou…’

Then it hit me like a wet fish in the face, or maybe a sledgehammer, as my mind flew back to a time when I had just started my adventure into girlhood. This was the man who tried to pick me up as he thought that I was a prostitute. I wasn’t, I hasten to add, but that was what he thought I was. He had given me a lift and almost immediately started feeling my leg in an ungentlemanly manner. I remember that he had been drinking, as I could smell whisky on his breath. There had been a crash as he couldn’t take his eyes off me for some reason and then, the police got involved… I didn’t stick around and sort of bravely ran away as fast as my heels could take me.

‘That wasn’t me, it must have been my erm, twin sister,’

I began to seriously worry that I might be in a wee bit of trouble there. You know the feeling, heart in the mouth, desperately wanting to find a toilet before you wet your panties. Where were the police when you wanted them…

‘Twin sister be buggered, there can only be one nut case like you.’

I tried to keep him talking as I sneakily tried the car door.

‘I didn’t cause you to lose your job.’

‘You did, you bitch. I was done for drink driving and driving without due care and attention. I was banned for 18 months, just because I was twice over the legal limit for alcohol. If you hadn’t flashed your legs at me suggestively, I wouldn’t have got into trouble. Legs like that should carry a government health warning.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ I said as I yanked at the door.

Nothing happened.

He laughed mirthlessly.

‘I have central locking control, you wont get out that easily.’

‘Bugger,’ I said as I realised that I had broken a nail on that flaming door handle

‘Who’s swearing now?’ he said with a sneer.

‘Let me go, or else.’ I said.

‘Ooh, I’m frightened. Do you know that my wife walked out on me too after your little show in my car?’


‘It all came out in the papers and some sleazebag of a reporter dug into my activities and they found out about a few affairs that I had.’

‘How many?’

‘Seven or eight, but that doesn’t matter. I now have to earn my living as an effing cab driver. On a Saturday night I have to spend my time clearing the back seat up of sick and other crappy stuff and it’s all your fault.’

‘It’s your fault for being silly.’

I sniffed a bit and opened my handbag.

‘Silly, silly, am I? Well, now I’ve got you and I’m going to get what I should have got two years ago. Snivelling like that won’t help you. That’s right, get out a tissue, you’ll need more than one when I’ve finished with you…’

A women’s handbag is a wondrous place, where all manner of things are kept.

He made a move on me, as he tried to grab a booblet. That was one step beyond and my intensive training by Sheila came to the fore, or is that five?

I pulled something out of my bag, held my breath and without further thought, sprayed some nice EveAid Personal Defence Spray in his face.

He sort sneezed and shook a bit and screamed. He was well out of it and paid no attention to little me

I leaned over his writhing body and pressed the button on the dashboard that unlocked the door. I gave him another dose of the spray as he seemed to be recovering too fast for my liking and then while he was somewhat preocupied, I got out of the car.

It was very cold out there and I didn’t fancy walking, so I went around to the drivers door and opened it and he nearly fell out.

His body fell forward in a sort of floppy way, his head hitting the steering wheel with a slight thump. I wondered for a moment if he was having some sort of seizure or something but no, he was a bit disorient…fuzzy and his eyes were streaming, but he seemed reasonably okay given the circs.

His mobile fell out of his pocket.

On reflection, I thought that it would be a good idea to ring the police using his mobile rather than mine.

I put my spray on the dashboard and dialled 999. I told the nice lady that a man was seen groping a woman and exposing himself in public. The woman had sprayed him with something and had run off in alarm. I added that he seemed a bit drunk and was sitting in his car. The street sign was just above my head and I told them where he was. Then, before the lady could ask who I was, I accidently dropped his mobile phone and trod on it.

He was breathing more or less normally now, so I kindly gave him a drink of whisky out of the bottle and he drank deeply, nearly half the small bottle went down his throat before he started gagging.

‘You b…bitch, wait til I get my f*c*i*g hands on you! He slurred.

‘You tried putting your hands on me and look where that got you, you creep. Have another drink or I might feel frightened enough to spray you again.’

He looked at me with daggers and with a shaking hand, picked up the by now, nearly empty bottle and took a large swig.

All the time I was listening for police sirens as I wanted to be away from there asap!

The last drink did the trick and he sort of slumped again and started to snore, his face pressed up against the steering wheel.

I wondered whether I should pull his trousers down to show what sort of person he was and lend truth to the story about molesting, but that was one step beyond for me. I did undo his zip though, just for effect.

I started the engine and closed the car door and then walked away from the scene. At the end of the road, there were lights from the traffic at the T-junction and I headed that way.

I heard the sirens then and I stepped into a doorway as two police cars with the usual blue lights screeched around the corner and passed me. I didn’t hang around after that and walked down the road as quickly as my heels would take me without looking back.

As I walked, I pulled my mobile phone out and googled for another taxi. I chose one with female drives called The Pink Ladies. I would avoid male taxis in future for obvious reasons.

There was a café across the road from me and I ordered a cup of tea and a limp ham sandwich while I waited for my pink lady.

My hand shook slightly as I drank my tea. All the 101 type survival lessons painstakingly taught to me by Sheila and to a certain extent my ex-boyfriend Tim had meant that I sort of went into some sort of auto mode with that horrid man.

I had surprised myself on my perspicatac…perspireca…ability, to do something like that in a crisis. I was a warm, cuddly, nice girl and I liked it that way. These Rambo type tendencies needed to be nipped in the bud.

Mind you, it was nice that I was able to stay calm in a crisis and I hoped that I would be able to do the right thing, if and when it happened again.

I fished in my bag for the spray as I needed to know if I needed to get another one.

It wasn’t there.

Then I went all hot and cold. I had left it in the car with Disgusting Man.

Would the police dust it for prints? Will I be on the Most Wanted List for crimes against taxi drivers? Had I assaulted him, or was it the other way around? After all, he had just groped at one of my treasured orbs. Had I overreacted?

I took another sip of tea and did one of my friend Sheila’s yoghurt—sorry yoga, mind calming, deep breathing type exercises.

It actually helped and when the door pinged open and woman wearing a pink sweater with Pink Ladies, picked out in white on her chest came in, I was in a better place, as they say.

‘Taxi for Toni Summers?’

‘That’s me.’ I said, getting up and walking out with her.

She actually opened the door for me, which was strange as I thought that only men did that. It was the back seat and I was pleased at that, as the last thing I wanted was to get into the passenger seat. For all I knew, she might have been a lympho maniac lesbian with designs on my body.

I think that I might have trust issues, as my trick cyclist suggested.

As we pulled away, a police car shot by and I could see the taxi man in the back. He was gesticulop…disjugul…waving his arms about a bit.

‘Another drunk,’ said the pink lady.

‘Yes,’ I replied in a small voice as we carried on to my destination, The Railway Sidings Hotel.

Most women would have been put of by my near grope experience, but I was made of stronger stuff, and anyway, I needed a boy friend and the dinner dance cost a lot of money and there was no way that I was going to waste that.

The taxi driver had the radio on. It was Stand By Your Man, by Tammy Whynot.

I thought that it was apt under the circs, as I wanted a man to stand by me. Not like Tim, he wouldn’t do that for me. He needed more than I could offer. Well, I was going somewhere where a girl in my position could find love and happiness.

I thought about Tim and all the nice things that we had done together. He had a nice smile and a wicked sense of humour. I loved the way that his hair stuck up a bit at the back, no matter how hard he plastered it down. Then there were those lovely warm embraces…

No, I just had to stop thinking about him!

I would look forward, not back.

The new Toni would be assertive, know her own mind, not do anything stupid and above all, don’t make a fool of herself.

We pulled up outside the hotel and I paid the extortionate fare, gave her a tiny tip and waved goodbye.

There was a uniformed person with a peeked hat and enough gold braid to put an admiral too shame. He touched his hat and I smiled shyly as I walked in through the revolving door.

The trouble was, someone was going out the other way and the door was going too fast for me to get out in time, so I went around again and the same thing happened!

I was getting giddy by now and wondered if I would spend my life going around in circles. By the time I had realised that I should exit the roundabout door, it was too late and I found myself outside on the pavement again.

The admiral type person looked at me and smiled.

‘Maybe you should use the side door madam.’

‘It’s Ms, actually.’ I said rather crossly.

‘Of course,’ he said with what I thought was a condescending smile.

At the side of the revolving door was another normal type one. I wondered why they should need both, but I didn’t stop to wait, I just gave the man a haughty smile and went through that one.

I went across an acre of carpet, reaching the marble and polished oak desk and stood there while the receptionist finished on the phone.

‘Well, Trace, I told him that I wasn’t that type of girl. I had standards and I don’t do that sort of thing on the first date. The second one yea, but look anyway, have to dash, customer here, bye.’

She put the phone down and looked at me expectantly.

‘Can I help Madam?’

‘It’s Ms.’

‘Sorry; How can I be of assistance to you…Ms?’

‘I’m here for the Dinner dance.’

‘Dinner Dance.’


‘What Dinner Dance?’

‘The one here.’

‘There isn’t one.’

‘Yes there is, look.’

I fished out the invite from my pocket and gave it to her.

She looked at it and raised an eyebrow about a centimetre. A smile played on her over painted red lips.

‘Is something funny?’ I asked, wanting to be in on the joke.

‘This is for the St Valentine's Day Dance.’

‘Yes, I know that. It’s at this hotel isn’t it?’

‘Yes Madam…I mean Ms, but this was held yesterday.’


‘Yes, yesterday.’


‘Because yesterday was St Valentine's day.’

‘It wasn’t…was it?’

‘Yes Ms; St Valentine's Day is on the 14th of February and this is, as you can see from the rather large calendar behind me, the 15th.’

I looked at the calendar and could see that it was the 15th.


‘Would you like to book in for next years event Ms?’

I looked at her wondering if she was extracting the Michael, but if she was, I couldn’t see it.

‘No thank you. Do you have a bar?’

‘Yes, it’s over to your left and has the word ‘Bar’ over the door.’

‘Thank you,’ I said with as much dignity as I could muster.’

‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, ‘have a nice day.’

I should have replied with some sort of witty retort, but my heart wasn’t in it.

I went over to the door marked ‘Bar’ and walked in.

It was relatively quiet and that suited me to the ground.

I went over to the bar and the barman was polishing a glass and looking at me.

‘Can I help you Miss.’

‘It’s Ms,’ I replied automatically.

‘Sorry, how can I help you.’

‘Have you got a erm, Wardy Headbanger?

‘Do you mean a Harvey Wallbanger, Ms.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Coming right up.’

I sat at the bar as he did his thing with the glass and I was soon sipping the delish drink that I had never had before but thought that it sounded good to try. It was strong, but that suited my mood. I had not had a very good evening and the shocking news that I had got the dates mixed up was deporessing to say the least.

How could I have not realised the date? True, I had a lot on my mind and the devastation of the rejection of me by Tim had made me somewhat absent minded, but still, what a stupid thing to do…

‘Penny for them?’

I looked up and there was the barman, polishing yet another glass. Well, I suppose you needed something to do with your hands whilst waiting to serve people.

I sighed.

‘I know that sigh. You have problems in the love department.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘It’s my job.’

There was no answer to that.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘I don’t want to burden you with my probs.’

‘It’s quiet at the moment and I can see that you have something you want to get off your chest.’

I looked at him keenly. After The Taxi Incident, I was a bit sensitive about any reference to my sticky-out appendages.

He seemed genuine and anyway, the only other barman that I knew was on a ship and he was nice, so perhaps this one was too. Maybe they have to have training in bar psychology or something?

I took a deep breath and told him about my problems…

Its funny how you can feel better after unburdening yourself. It all puts it into perspexive… perplex…whatever. He just nodded where appropriate, ‘tsk, tsked a few times, threw in a couple of shakings of the head and I must admit, I felt a bit better. It wasn’t me that was the prob, it was everything and everyone else.

I didn’t check the date because I was stressed. I took the taxi, not knowing that it was being driven by the scumbag from hell.

Tim had left me because he couldn’t cope with my in-betweenie condition and he wanted to do naughty things to me that my present plumbing just couldn’t manage.

After, I think, my third Harley Fastbender, I was feeling decidedly chirpy. I wanted to kiss and cuddle the barman, whose name was Brian and came from Ruislip. Evidently that wasn’t the done thing and anyway, his boyfriend would object.

I thanked him sincerely for all his help, waved goodbye and went out into the wide, wide world.

The Admiral doorkeeper seemed to be amused about something. It couldn’t be because I was a bit merry by now and was singing ‘All By Myself’ in a pleasant, if slightly off key way, could it?

I was a bit hungry, so I popped into a take-away that just happened to be a few doors down from the hotel.

I nearly tripped over the doorway, but managed with remarkable dextericalty to stay on my feet. Walking over to the counter, which seemed to be waiving about a bit, I grabbed hold of a chair and asked for a takeaway.

‘Can I have a shitcadad pleash?’ I asked with a winning smile.

‘Hey lady, you takin the piss?’

‘Ooh, do you have a toilet?’

‘No toilet. You want shish kebab?’

‘Thatsh what I said.’

He mumbled under his breath something that sounded vaguely foreign and maybe a bit naughty and then he handed me the wrap with the meat oozing out of it.

I paid him and then with a great deal of dignity walked out. I was quite proud that I didn’t trip myself up as I left as I was, by now, sure that an earthquake had commenced as the ground was shifting around a bit. I wasn’t worried about that as I was a big strong girl who had managed to take on an angry and frisky taxi driver single-handed and had lived to tell the tale to Barman Brian.

However, the ground was a bit too unstable for a girl in high heals and I found a nice wall to sit down on as I ate my meal. It was a bit greasy and I did wonder if I was going to throw up, but as I have said before, I was made of stern stuff and I ate at least a quarter of it until I felt that enough was enough.

It was getting cold there sitting on the wall with remains of the takeaway oozing through my fingers.

I felt that I had had enough excitement for the day and decided that I aught to go home. I stood up, dutifully dropped what was left of the kebab in a convenient bin but unfortunately missed the hole and the remains fell on the ground with a sort of splat sound.

I was going to get down on my hands and knees, but was aware that if I went down there, I may not have the ability to get up again and anyway, my tights were new.

I walked off down the road. The traffic was a bit sparse by now as the night was getting on a bit and it had started to rain. I passed a few couples, arm-in -arm and it made me feel a bit upset.

I remembered the times that I was on the arm of Tim. I recalled us walking hand in hand across the beach at Weymouth…

I stopped.

This was no good. I was a strong independent woman and needed no mere man to help me get through life’s minefields.

I decided that I would get a taxi and was pleased that I was capable of rational thought at a time of extreme yuckieness.

I purposefully dug my phone out of the depths of my bag, held it up and dialled the last number on it, which was of course, The Pink Ladies.

It started to ring and I held the phone up against my ear.

My hands were still greasy though and the phone slipped out of my hand and fell down a convenient drain.

I stared at my hand and then the drain, hoping that my phone would somehow eject itself from it, but no, gravity just didn’t work in reverse and my phone was lost for good.

I sat down by the drain and peered through the grate. All I could hear was the gurgling of rainwater.

It was about then that I thought that it wasn’t my lucky day.

I sat there for a few moments, my mind numb and my bottom even number, as it was cold down there.

I heard the sound of an engine.

Looking up, I saw that it was a bus. The bus stop was about fifty yards away and I struggled to my feet.

The bus came ever closer and then went past me. The trouble was, there was a big puddle in the curb and I was drenched as the wheels went through the puddle.

Soaked to the skin and slightly more sober, I ran for the bus in drowned rat mode.

Have you tried running in heels on a wet cold night? I wouldn’t recommend it.

The bus had stopped at the erm, stop and a few people got off and one got on.

I was just ten yards away and the driver must have seen me in his humungous sized mirror, but I heard a ding sound and he drove away just as I reached the bus stop.

I had, by now, gone off bus drivers and I thought unpleasant thoughts about him and hoped that he had developed hammer…hemeroi…piles from sitting down all day.

I sat at the bus stop and looked at the neon sign thingie. The next bus was in half an hour. By that time, I would either be a basket case or have hypno…hypoth…a cold or something.

By now I was feeling really sorry for myself and wondered if I should try thumbing a lift. The thought of my previous experiences with men and cars, I didn’t think that that was an option. I hoped against hope that a car with nuns in it might come my way, or at least a vicar’s wife, but no such luck.

It was no good, the choices were, stay there and freeze or walk to the next bus stop, just to get warm.

I chose to walk.

A few cars passed me and a couple slowed down, but I didn’t think that I looked exactly lovely, being soaked to the skin and my hair looking like nothing on earth, so I didn’t even have the pleasure of rejecting any amorous advances.

Having walked for ten minutes or so, I wondered, not for the first time, why I was wearing heels. Heels must have been invented by men, they were so impractical and unwalkerble in. If I had know what would happen, I would have worn stout walking shoes.

As it was, I hobbled on in the hope of making the next bus stop before extensive surgery was needed on my poor, abused feet.

A few moments later I heard an engine noise. It didn’t sound like a car or bus and I looked around, as the engine grew louder and louder.

A single headlight pierced the rainy gloom. It was heading my way.

The motorbike came nearer and nearer, the noise grew louder and louder and then the bike passed by and then slithered and screeched to a halt.

I didn’t know whether to run for it, but my mind was kind of numb and I thought, ‘what the hell,’ and carried on.

As I came closer, I could see more clearly, the back of the bikers black leather jacket. There were studs on the back of it and I could just make out the words.

I Luv Sex

I knew that jacket.

Walking, or more accurately, hobbling up, I tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Hi Ronald.’


Ronald and Derek, his biker partner were a couple of men who were friends of mine, ever since my heady early days of girlhood (shameless plug—see previous adventures for the sordid details). They had been cervically married, if that’s the right term, some time the previous year.

Ronald took off his helmet shook out his rather long, slightly greasy hair and peered at me.

‘Toni? I thought that was you dear. What are you out on a night like this luv?’

‘Too knackered and depressed to talk about it now. Are you going anywhere near my place?’

‘I could pass it just for you, sweetie. Grab the helmet out of the box and I’ll have you home in a trice.’

‘Okay, but go slow, in a dress like this and only a thin coat, I could get hypnothermia or something.’

I held onto Ronald like dear life as we roared through the night streets. Luckily it had stopped raining now, although I didn’t think that I could get much wetter than I already was.

By the time we arrived outside my flat, my teeth were making a noise like castanets.

‘Thanks Ronald, you are a diamond.’

‘No problem, darling. You must come to ours soon, Derek does a mean spag bol.’

‘Yes I will,’ I replied and waived as he zoomed off, engine roaring, into the night.

When I reached the top of the stairs leading to my flat, at least I had warmed up a bit. I did need the exercise though, as at the last time of checking, I was 2 pounds overweight!

Breathing like an asthmatic sheep, I opened the door of my flat and frowned.

The lights were on.

I could smell food, cooked food; nice cooked food, food that made your mouth water. There were sounds coming from the kitchen; the scrape of a dish, a clink or maybe a clunk from a pot being put down.

I picked up my pink umbrella from the hallstand and wished that I still had my spray thingie. The umbrella had to do.

Feeling ever so brave, I crept towards the kitchen, umbrella in front of me, held like a pink sword.

It could have been a mad axe murderer in there for all I knew, but what mad axe murderer would start cooking in the kitchen?

I had visions of a maniacs face popping out from the kitchen and saying, ‘here’s Johnny!’

I shook my head at that thought and with a lot of triperd…tripodation, I opened the door and screamed.

‘Don’t come near me, you pervert!’

Unfortunately, one of my heels finally gave way and I fell flat on my face before taking two steps into the kitchen.

‘Hi Tony, enjoy your trip?’

Looking up, I saw…I saw…Tim!

‘T…Tim, what are you doing here?’

He had an apron on, one of mine, a bit frilly, but I’m that sort of girl. He had a ladle in his hand and was stirring some yummy…but that didn’t answer my question.


I was being strong now. When a man ‘Dear John…or in my case Dear Toni’ed me, I didn’t expect him there, in my flat, doing the domestic type thingie.

He put the ladle down, turned off the ring, came over to me and helped me up with his strong manly arms. He then looked into my eyes.

‘I let myself in as I still have the key you gave me. I knew that you would get home sometime and I just hoped that you would come alone and not too late to enjoy the meal. Can you ever forgive me? I have been a fool. I thought that the grass was greener on the other side…’

‘It is; this side of the garden is all muddy, I keep telling the caretaker…’

‘I don’t mean that I was speaking metaphorically.’

‘Meta what?’

‘Never mind. What I mean is that I thought that I would be happy with someone else. I was mad to think that anyone could replace you.’

‘You had someone else then?’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘No; I must admit I did try to find someone, but whenever I tried, no one could measure up to my little bunny rabbit.’

That was his pet name for me. He had been, before all the terribleness, my piggly wiggly for reasons that I will not go into.

‘So you come crawling back to me because I was what, safe? Maybe the fact that you had to look for someone else means that I’m not good enough for you, or you can’t wait until I’ve had the yuckie operation…’

‘I thought that you wanted that?’

‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I’m looking forward to it. I hate physical pain; you know that. I scream blue murder if I get a hangnail or a paper cut. What do you think that it will be like when I have my whatsit carved up? Then after that, if I get through the operation, I have to use an enormous thingie and stick it up my new gevina every day. But we’re not talking about that. You left me and sent me a Dear John letter…’

‘It was Darling Toni, actually.’

‘Stop splitting finger nails…’

‘That’s stop splitting hairs…’

‘There you go, laughing at the way I speak…’

‘Forgive me darling, for being such a jerk. I love you more than anything and will wait until hell freezes over before I leave my little bunny rabbit again. You are drop dead gorgeous and I must have been mad to give you up. You are the sunshine of my life, that's why I'll always be around. You are the apple of my eye, forever you'll stay in my heart…’

‘Hang on a minute, isn’t that a song by Stevie Nicks?’

‘No, Wonder.’

‘Wander what,’

‘No you mean Stevie Wonder. Where was I? Oh yes, I love the way you get words mixed up and the funny look you get when you concentrate real hard and…’

‘So I have a funny look now. I have had a pig of a day. First I get picked up by a symphomaniac taxi driver from my past, then I go to a St Valentine’s Day dance and find that I’m a day late, then I get drunk on Wardy Headbanger’s. I only had three…or maybe four. After that my shit kabab slips from my fingers and my phone goes down the drain. I get soaked to the skin by a camelcarsey bus driver…’

I stopped then. I couldn’t say a word. The reason being that Tim had folded me in his arms and had his tongue down my throat. He was doing things with his hands that seemed to feel slightly illegal. My heart starting beating a lot more than it should and I had a squidgy feeling in my tummy and my toes seemed to start curling.

In short, I went all gooey inside and then felt that maybe things hadn’t ended too badly today, after all.

I would forgive him, this time, but would use some industrial strength EveAid Personal Defence Spray on him if he stepped out of line again.

I had my Timmy Wimmy back and all was right in the world.


Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue

Please note that some of the spelings are not write, but don't worry they are intenseional.

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