Get It Straight, Or Say Good Night

Humming Bird

He gave up after that, calling the first girl in his little black book, inviting her back for some fun.

He wouldn't stop.

Every day a different girl.

Short, tall, long legs, big breasts or small, hair to their bottoms or short, stylish pixie cuts. John seemed not be fussy on one type of woman.

Lots of bedhead banging, against a thin wall and loud moaning and yelling for more. Not that Lou was a yeller, but she sure could imagine why either participant would be so vocal...

The excess banging was sometimes on purpose, Louise thought, as John would be especially vocal and loud after Lou and he had run into each other while he was on a mission for supplies of water, tea or alcohol from the kitchen.

Louie got so hot and bothered by the activities in the next room she tried to take away the ache herself ...by hand... it was a dismal failure.

She wasn't a bloody monk now was she nor was Lou a tart, she sat somewhere in a middle ground, she knew what was going on and so did her body.

Imagine a tub of ice-cream, large plate of fresh baked warm biscuits or very favourite food sitting in the middle of the table every day for a week.... she wanted it desperately.

By Sunday lunchtime Lou had, had enough, most of the daily whores left by 7.a.m. This one was still panting and yelling at quarter past eleven- nearly lunchtime!

Ludicrous!

Although there had been lulls in proceedings this was too late in the day for Lou's fragile state and acceptance. The dreary skies and heavy downpours from above dampening her attempts to flee to the back garden.

Louise was fed up, het up and stirred up, she called for reinforcements, she called Paul.

If you can't beat them join them they say, she had decided by noon, just as John walked out with a snarly somwhat victorious smile on his face.

Paul walked in the front door and Lou took him by the tie and lead him to her room.

Johns smile faded slightly.

Let the games begin.

**

It stalled in the first blaze of passion, Paul hadn't been with a heavily pregnant woman before and neither had Louise, if you know what I mean.

She tried again as Paul quaked with fear for her unborn fetus, she wasn't going to be perturbed though, she pushed him on the bed and blew his mind instead.

She let him rest with a smoke then straddled him taking her time, if it was only the once she would make it last.

She couldn't, last that is. Done and dusted  she was, and he was heaving for air flat on his back, within minutes.

Taking his second smoke that dangled from his lips, she blew a few small puffs as she found her own fleeting breath and straddled him once again. This time was slower. This time was much, much slower.

Paul surfaced sometime after four that afternoon and made his way out the door eyes glazed, spring in his step.... and humming.

Louise surfaced made a sandwich then washed up, humming.

John had sat, and watched them both happily.... humming.