Room 2D

From Uniform Girls 8 It was a rather damp and muggy Autumn afternoon. Earlier, the ground had been filled with excited, enthusiastic kids running, jumping, throwing a variety of objects, or simply horsing around. By and large, they were unsupervised. Technique was at a discount. Being there and doing something energetic was all. That was the reason, reflected Herb Wainwright, why British athletics, on the international scene, was in such an abysmal state. We got ecstatic about winning a bronze, very excited about coming fourth or fifth, even gratified if one of our team reached a final. It wasn’t good enough in his view. The Americans, the Russians, the Germans were out to  win . Coming second or third was considered a failure. That was the difference. Britain, in this present age, lacked the true competitive spirit. Herb gazed around the near-deserted ground. Hurdles had been left lying on the track, javelins lay like cas...

A story from Janus 47 by R T Mason Albert Higginson, staring intently, made muttered sounds of stern disapproval. It shouldn’t be allowed; it was disgraceful; it was a pity there wasn’t some kind of  law  against it. One might ask, if it upset him so much, why Albert had to  look . He could have been doing something else, various things, rather than staring so intently out from behind his bedroom curtains. And if the sight angered him so much why was he using his bird-watching binoculars, to magnify and clarify every detail? What Albert was gazing at with such concentration, such rapt disapproval, was his recently-new neighbour, Melanie Halford — Mrs Melanie Halford — 23-years-old and very comely. He was gazing at her rear view as she hung out washing; more specifically he was gazing at the tight seat of her jeans. They  were  tight, skin-tight like an exceptionally well-fitting glove, over ripely rounded haunches. So tight that at 30 yards with good binoc...