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I’m . . .not that kind of guy. I’m . . . waiting for marriage, and . . .’ My erudite and well-spoken companion was suddenly dumb-struck, and terribly like a bashful schoolboy. And I, who had always known what to do with bashful schoolboys, was mystified. Why could I not kindle a flame in him that didn’t flicker out before it even got started? This man had a mighty will, to be able to override the advances I had made. I thought perhaps if I could explain to him that I was a love goddess, that my life was dedicated to administering the Jewel of Liberation to the men I met. He was versed in Egyptian, Greek, and Roman cultural history. Perhaps if he knew that I had been a virgin sacrifice . . . that I had served in the Temples of Ishtar, Isis, Aphrodite, Venus . . . Don’t ask me why I thought this would make any sense to this man. It made sense to me. But it prompted him to gasp with shock and begin to give me the entire history of the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth and to conclude. She had on her big floppy hat, which he now knew concealed her gorgeous golden hair. The same loose fitting tee shirt, but instead of shorts made from denim she was wearing shorts made of a type of soft towelling material which he was quick to notice clung to her bottom like a second skin. Also they were a light buff colour and gave the impression when she bent over to pick up the grass cuttings that she was naked below her loose top. After he had mown the lawns she called a break and they went into the lounge for a cup of tea. ‘I don’t know how you keep on John’ she said as she poured him his cup from her teapot. John assumed that she didn’t know that her top gaped open when she leaned towards him to fill his cup. He had a good view of her breasts as they hung free beneath the loose top. This time he could be sure that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She sat back in the opposite armchair to his and sipped at her tea. ‘Would you like a biscuit dear?’ she asked taking one for herself.
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