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God only knows what the Mad Hatter would do with her. And maybe I'd enjoy watching him doing the doing even more than he would enjoy doing it. In other words feel free to skip the introduction if you have read Victoria's Secret and/or Victoria's Second Secret. Correction: I hate to admit to my age but I am exceptionally proud about my employment status. Ever since I graduated I have been working short-term contracts to fund my next trip. The money I earn through that is going to get me to Honolulu where I'm due to meet a very tasty American babe. Okay, there is a touch of mother/daughter going on between us, but only the slightest touch. I'm in demand, I get tax concessions because I have yet never worked one complete tax year . Vic and I were still cuddling in Hev's bed when she suddenly suggested we met up again . The few guys I like fit into a narrow band but I am into girls of all colours, shapes and sizes. Well face it; I was working to earn to go on an extended holiday. Replete with steak and chips and, in my instance, three delicious pints of bitter (Dave had Britvic orange), we pressed on. By Kendal there was a touch of sleet under Dave's wipers.

That is unless you have the memory of a goldfish and need a friendly nudge. Well, she is pushing sixty (although looking at her you'd never believe it) so maybe "babe" is exaggerating a tad. Sorry if that comes as a shock but that's the way I am. That intimacy aside, most of our contact has always been innocent and very pure lust. Let's face it, she isn't my mother and game-play can be cool. Back in my uni days I'd even had a spell when I'd gone for girls who were . I wasn't going to take days off in the meantime, was I? And, when we got to Windermere and set off uphill towards the Kirkstone Pass, it was actually snowing.

Then, unable to make our eighth date, Hev sent along a friend to take her place. Taking her body part by part, I can't come up with another similarity. Not that speeding was ever likely to get us there much quicker.

Sharing a bed with her makes simple, everyday sex seem . So, seven consecutive Wednesdays and we had burnt off seven zillion sex calories and counting, up, up, up. Anyhow, she picked me up at five on the dot (never even a second late; not her) and off we went, me admiring her brand-new Zafira. I liked it, even if Dave was driving like the proverbial bat out of hell.

Seeing her again had thrown me, and this is God's own truth.

We had history, and lots of it; lots and lots and not all of it featuring happy endings.

One time, in Argentina, almost wasted away and the money hit my bank a week early. And do Argentinians understand the words "big" and "steak"! First off I got it together with one of the Bank's most senior directors, Heather Hunter . She's not quite as assertive, but she is exceptionally persuasive. Believe you me, she must have put Vic's "don't screw the crew" maxim to a test. 'Ms Hunter recommended you very highly,' Nina assured me. No, she really does need you.' 'What is this meeting all about? I'm sure you can deal with anything that might crop up.' I frowned at him. 'You know all the answers and aren't afraid to speak your mind.' How convincing was that, on both counts. 'You'll fly down on Monday afternoon,' said Nina, 'and overnight somewhere nearby. It won't take a whole day out of your day-to-day schedule.' 'We'll talk about your schedule later,' said Gary, his eyes on Nina's tits (as were mine more often than not, if the truth be told). Without asking me in advance, Dave turned into a large car park outside of a pub.

Not that knowing in advance ever made it any less welcome. Sex-wise this year, after a relatively quiet Christmas, I have hit an exceptionally rich lode. In all honesty, Vic might even be more beautiful than Hev (if such a thing is remotely possible). And I certainly won't have any maxims concerning my crew. 'Well hello,' Nina said, her eyes drilling me, charming me and doing things eyes should never do to me. That's why we need you so urgently.' ***** The cover story was that capable IT cover was required for Victoria's visit to Croydon on Tuesday morning. 'You have a wide band of experience in all sorts of business sectors and with every IT system going. And, around maybe quarter past six, we reached Ingleton.

She's amazing in bed, too, and not as ferociously dominant as I had originally expected. I've been sharing a bed in her luxuriously renovated farmhouse every Wednesday night since the day we first met. In bed she is quite tender and gentle but can build passion to an extraordinary degree. If ever I get important enough to warrant a PA I'll get one just like her. This time she wants back-up.' 'And I happen to agree with Ms Hunter,' Gary chipped in. Never mind the whereabouts; we're having an affair. Chapter Two So on to Friday and my date with Dave (aka Davina, a woman who I had lived with on more than one occasion). All I am sure of is that we had hooked up together as many times as we had split up. Now we were rekindling our friendship but not the co-habiting. Whatever we were doing, I must admit it felt like a new beginning. Okay, so her hair is a match for Velma's by colour, if not style, but . Tensions were simmering not too deep under the surface. Sporadic as it was, we made the effort and, avoiding touchy subjects (such as my travelling habit) we got along decently enough.

She's a couple of inches taller than me, her jet-black mane is longer than mine and her all-over tan has to be seen to be believed. I'm happy with my looks but Hev eclipses me in every way. Vic is even taller than Hev and has Italian blood in her. Last time Victoria went down to see her opposite number she was set upon by a fleet of technical experts. Don't think about it, just say yes." Call me useless but I didn't think about it. And then, before I could have second or third thoughts, I sent my message. Usually I describe Dave by comparing her with Velma from Scooby Doo. Dave never wears short skirts or turtleneck sweaters. The roads were busy even though we bypassed Keighley and Skipton and headed into the (supposedly) quiet North Yorkshire wilds. At first our conversation was, to say the least, stilted. We knew each other inside out and had argued big style.

Dress up like a prostitute and you too a cheap pub and guys will be hitting on you.

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