Gift Horse


Although slightly ashamed of the encounter with the voracious, large lady in Victoria there was part of me that felt awakened. I had felt no physical attraction whatsoever, but the excitement of the whole situation, the illicit nature of the contact and her sheer unabandoned and insatiable desire had left me feeling fulfilled and, on reflection, aroused. I imagined what it might be like to find the same unfettered enthusiasm from someone that I was attracted to. Was this possible or were the two mutually exclusive? Maybe overweight and unattractive ladies in mid-life when faced with young, fresh, virile and willing male debutants had less to lose than young, pretty head-turners. Maybe this occurrence was so rare for them that they literally ate their prey for breakfast (lunch and dinner) in case another meal wasn’t to pass their way for another decade. Perhaps my girlfriends from Mayfair magazine were too worried that it would ruin their hair………

The letter writing continued unabated. Progress was slow, in fact non-existent. But I knew it was possible. However, at this stage in my formative life I was busy with things other than trying unavailingly to fix dates. I was in the third year of my four year degree course which was dedicated to ‘selling’. Learning to be a salesman. Every business needs to sell. This business needed to sell chocolate. In Croydon. In order to sell chocolate in Croydon it was necessary to have a car. A car with a large boot that had room to store lots of chocolate. It was a double whammy with bells on. Suddenly not only did I have a car, but I also had a lifetime’s supply of chocolate. If this wasn’t a babe magnet what was?!

Well this wasn’t. For a start not only was the car a Ford (bad) but it was also bright yellow (much worse). No self-respecting girl was going to clamber into a car the colour of instant custard. And so it proved. Those that did clamber into the car were male members of my football team when transportation was required for away matches. Not only did I have a car (something of a rarity amongst my contemporaries) but I also had a bottomless supply of Crunchies, Double Deckers and Dairy Milk in my boot. No wonder we went the whole season without winning one away game……

For a long time it seemed as if the car was just another red herring. Looking a gift horse in the mouth only to discover it was a donkey. But having a car was about to prove advantageous (outside the services provided to the confectionery trade in Addlestone and Mitcham) especially if it could be parked in an underground garage and no one could see the custard.

I had the car until September when I was due to relinquish my burgeoning career as a confectionery super-salesman and go back to college. It was early June when the letter arrived, made obvious by the familiar puerile writing on the envelope. I had become a considerable expert at being able to sense by the weight and shape of its contents what was inside. This was different. I could tell it was definitely not the return of one my futile letters or the excitable photograph. The contents were slim and flimsy. My heart missed a beat. A real reply.

The letter inside was to transform formative fumbling into sexual athletics. A whole new ball game. Boy to man in one fell swoop. It was also sexy. Immensely, tree-fellingly sexy. This was where it all started…….


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