Room 2D

The concluding part, from Blushes 36 The white-framed French window reflects in the bright afternoon sun blue sky, fluffy white clouds and a segment of the garden. A mature beech tree in its later summer foliage to the left and across the centre the high privet hedge. Together with this reflection, like a double-exposed film, is what is inside the French window. A chintzy stuffed armchair to the right and to the left and partially in the image of the beech tree is a girl. Looking out with what seems a wistful or unhappy expression. She is in a light-coloured blouse and a short, tight red skirt. Below the skirt her attractive legs are bare. Her feet are in white ankle socks and white low-heeled shoes. These shoes are the same ones… From somewhere in the house there is a faint  brr… brrr…  of a telephone. And a man’s voice. The girl at the window turns and disappears. She enters. The phone is still ringing. On a table some six feet from where Mr Winder is seated reading his ...

First part of two, from Blushes 36 featuring the sleazy looking spanker who occasionally appeared in Blushes and reminds me of Ken Masters from Howard’s Way. It is a substantial brick house, in a street of similarly substantial houses. They date from the 1930’s probably when space was not at the premium it is today and houses could be built with a bit of elbow-room: these plots are all of something like an acre. And the builders too in those days, they knew their trade and were not skimping in time or effort. One would have to look at this brickwork for a very long time to find any fault with it. And the roof, the neat white window frames, the cast-iron drainpipes: all solid English craftsmanship. The garden, like all the others on this leafy street, matured after its 50 or so years, is neat, well-tended behind its substantial hedges. Substantial for we are looking at middle-class suburban England where a certain privacy is an ess...

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From Blushes 45 featuring a young Alison Steadman lookalike. Pamel-ah! Her proud breasts stretched tautly and she stared up at her wrists as her arms remained taut in their own act as though saluting the ceiling. Her upper torso was completely naked and the nipples on her tightly posed titties were thrusting like excited stalks from the pinky aureoles. Her high-heeled shoes helped the full expression of her enforced statuesque posture as, with ankles together, she choked back the constant threat to whimper her hopeless helplessness. ‘Are you sure you are stretching your arms as high as you can?’ his voice asked unreasonably. ‘Oh yes sir… I am, I am,’ her voice conveyed her own fear that she might displease him and that would be a situation that Fiona knew she did not want to even think about. Please let me not fail, please, please, she inwardly and constantly prayed. To show him her anxiousness to please at all costs, she tr...