Let’s just call him Mower Man. But we all know its Will good looking Young (for legal reasons we hope will never become apparent). Debbie’s nude nylon holdup stockings catch his eye while booking into a room for one.
Humming quietly to herself. It’s Debbie. Giving herself a few bars of “Release me, let me go……To live a lie would be a sin……Release me and let me love again…( all together now !!).
Now Debbie your story is not unique, here at the FROWNS help desk we’ve read similar tales dozens of times, your different though because the answer is staring you in the eyebrows.
So you went to a parish wedding, got dolled up, as you say yourself you know your strengths; good figure, great legs, full makeup with the secret weapon illuminator and you could pass for a good eight years younger than you actually are.
We’re with you girl. So he was there, lets just call him Mower Man, ( for legal reason we hope will never become apparent) wearing a suit, booking into a room for one. ( oh you could have wept.. a suit certainly gives a chap that sharp dressed man look despite he being short and boring to listen to in the past…) But come on now Debbie what exactly draws you to this shorty shite talker? “It’s his eyes, the twinkle in them and that mouth”, She says. Oh Debbie do tell! The FROWNs are listening. Don’t skimp on the detail girl, most of us are just dicing onions for a mincemeat surprise tea and could do with the excitement right. “Well I am taking it as a given that Frowns are all Will Young au fait.
Au fait oh yea okay!!*&^%%bunga bunga#~~;0
“Well he is a clone to that unique mouth with those teeth going on, what’s a girl to do but stare!”
Mower Man was well tanked up with courage to do what he wanted to do all day. When our Debbie first approached her own man at the bar, who was it, over like a horse fly on a cow pat? Yes Mower Man.
” A sexy leg comment out of him, faster than speedy Gonzales and an offer of a dance!”.
Sure our poor Debbie had died and gone to heaven. If nothing else this wedding had gone down as one of her all time great days. ( And come on FROWNS they are few and far between in the corridors of power we tend to wander.)
A neighbourly “friend” (much more shall we say the right side of eligible)who was prowling armed with an expensive short dress and lashings of streaking body bronzer,was literally left open mouthed in mid sentence. Caught off guard at the speed with which Mower Man swept old reliable (off the market) Debbie off her feet. The “friend” knew our Debbie had a soft spot for Mower Will Young Man owing to Debbie’s own foolishness, making known her fondness for a Will Young mouth in causal neighbourly conversation .
Our Debbie patted herself on the back; By deciding to wear hold up stockings; airier in the gusset region, as the weather was tipping the 16 degrees in the shade, her long shapely legs rather dishy shown off in nude nylon, This bait had caught the catch of the day.
Her own man nodded in that glassy pissed eye fashion to go forth and dance.
Poor Debbie began to doubt the situation. Did the whole parish know of her infatuation with Mower Man owing to her loud mouth? Was Mower Man some how just answering the call of the wild that he’d heard on the farming grapevine now that he had the beer courage to do so?.
What would she do with her handbag? Mower Man sensed her stalling moment, sensed his own heart on his shirt sleeve. Had he shown his hand too soon? Perhaps laid a un-intentioned trap for his woman. Her in the deep heart of her inlaws Parish.
Well Debbie us here at the FROWNS help desk feel for you.
But I am sure the grass isn’t always greener in the other field. You have the memory of that moment and the luxury of knowing there will be more encounters ( and causal big waves) of the tense awkward sort during bailing, mowing and hedge cutting season on the old homestead