Rebel Without a Clue is my latest novel and first venture into comic Sci Fi. I hope you like the video I enjoy talking to myself, in fact, I get quite excited. Living away from your hubby can do that to a woman.
Inspired by my video revelations about my parent’s romping beneath the washing line. I wondered about the next hubby’s visit and his weeks of washing. Could he be enticed with a bit of nylon and matching clothe’s peg-a prolonged sock pulling from the washing machine?
My underwear is not fit for public swinging but, I thought, maybe a few matching towels or a sheet might do the trick along with a sultry glance, a joke and perhaps something in nylon?
I slipped on the only nylon get up I could find, pulled washing from the machine and ventured into the wind outside. Hubby would be down any minute…
“You fancy fish,” he shouted from the bedroom, he comes from Bangladesh where fish is a delicacy and a whole lot more…
“Just hanging out the washing,” I shouted back.
“It’s from the restaurant.” He said.
“Just heading out,” I said intent on some seductive bending.
I began to wrestle against the wind which had turned into a gale. Hubby soon appeared looking for tea, he poked his head out the window to see me fighting with a sheet and started to laugh.
“Where did you get those trouser from? They look like pyjamas.”
Which, clinging to my legs like an illuminous bin bag probably were. Never get dressed in the dark.
“They’re nylon,” I said.
He came outside. I went for my best bend with a seductive sigh, my back clicked, I grunted with a jolt.
He put his hand on my hips “this is nylon?” he said, “very greasy for nylon.”
He had in the past worked in the ‘garment industry’ as he liked to call it and it seems was an expert on nylon.
“This is not nylon,” he said. “Where did you get it?”
“It was in the bottom drawer, can you help me up.”
He tutted impatiently “I didn’t mean now! Where did you buy them from?”
“Can’t remember-can you help me up?”
“I mean if this nylon, I’m an Indian.” he said hands now on his hips.
“It was meant to be an experiment for my book-can you just help me up?”
“You have cheap pyjamas in your book? I thought you said it was a Sci Fi?”
This time it was my turn for an impatient tut. “It was more about the bending, ” I muttered straighten up with exaggerated pain.
“And nylon, this necessary?”
“I thought it was.”
“I have a friend he could get you something decent.”
“Just help me inside.”
“What about the washing?” he muttered with concern.
I looked up from my Quasimode stance to see the sheet frantically flapping in the wind-a corner dragged across a puddle.
“The puddle?” he said now aggrieved.
I wondering what the sheet had that I didn’t?
“Just get me on the couch-better still the bed,” I said.
“Good thing you’re in your pyjamas then,” muttered hubby who helped me inside. Then, like a knight in shining armour went out to save the sheet.
an Aussie sunning it in Scotland