Quite Frisky One Morning

As soon as our eyes met I knew what Love was. He was already standing on the street, five doors down, leaning on a lamppost when I turned the corner. Broad, bullish with jaws set in a fixed grin yet with endearingly curious and hopeful eyes set back above his streamlined whiskers.

My heart leapt into my throat like a tennis ball bounced too hard. My eyes widened. My lips parted. My tongue felt an instant flood of pleasurable moisture spreading from my ever-ready salivary glands and as I walked my rear took-on the most alluring waggle I could muster.

Unfortunately for me Julie was still by my side. Best friend or no she was definitely a minus when it came to boys. It was a rare occasion she could be bothered even waiting around long enough for an introduction to be conducted let alone allowing time for a more intimate communication.

But Julie needed fags – just this once I applauded her addiction – and I coyly agreed to hang around outside whilst she went in to get her ‘lights’ (and no doubt some chocolate too!). She put her hand on my shoulder and, smiling knowingly, warned me to be a ‘good girl’. Then she left.

This was his cue. Walking like a boxer limbering-up for his tête-à-tête with destiny he crossed the scant few yards between us. Our eyes were now locked in a full-on burn, each one of us ready for his next move. I felt his hot breath first, steaming out of his hungry mouth like opium. Then his tongue was there, tasting me like I was prime steak, juicy and dripping salt-blood.

He mounted me then and there by the corner shop. “Petra!” screamed Julie running back out and dragging me away, “Bad dog”.