Read Online Lettuces and Cream by John Evans - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Evans
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interrupted her with a smile, ‘okay, okay, I get the picture, I don’t mind love, honest, and you needed a break,’
It wasn’t until bedtime that Janice had the time and space to fully absorb the immensely unusual happening at Chris’s. As she lay with Mike beside her, sleeping deeply after his labours of the day, she could see the events rerunning like a film. Her brain shuffled the images to the left and the right. Why had Chris behaved like that? God, I hardly know the woman, perhaps it is because she is a comparative stranger that makes the situation so dreamlike-and exciting. Is she a bit queer? Am I? After all, I did touch her breasts. No, she’s got two kids-well so have I. On the other hand why should there have to be a name, a label, for something so innocent as a touch? Jan shouldn’t have been surprised at her confused reaction to the event. Because she wasn’t one for detailed planning, nor for analysing her own or other people’s emotions, she simply had no mechanism for dealing with such things. Her accepting and caring nature was of the, what is, is, variety, something that Mike found difficult to understand because he was always trying to find the logic behind the illogical. The only certainty for Jan on this occasion was that here, in the darkness, she was finding it more arousing now than then. Her fingertips were remembering the silky smoothness, the warmth and texture of another woman’s breast, as they now explored her own breasts. Was there a difference-not really, and she wondered what other parts of Chris’s body would be like to touch. But then, perhaps the excitement was in the fantasy, and not the actuality. There again, perhaps it was the ‘sameness’ that excited her. It had been strangely familiar, like touching herself. Whatever it might be, Jan’s other hand was moving down, down between her soft, smooth thighs.
Even though he moved silently through the midnight darkness,in the house, the dog,ever alert, stood barking at the unseen threat. In the shed, he slowly and quietly drew back the back the bolt on the pig pen door. The sleeping pigs nestling in the warm straw, snuffled and huffed contentedly, unaware, as yet, that a gentle push on the door would give them freedom. The intruder gave a sly grin of satisfaction as closed the shed door behind him.
The next morning, Saturday, the dry weather had broken and the children were playing in the large sitting room, well, what they were now calling, the ‘sitting room,’ still a bit of a mess and a stack of unopened boxes still remained in one corner - Jan just didn’t know where to put what. Mike was staring out of the window wondering which job to tackle next and watching the rain moving across the valley like billowing grey waves. Back in the town it would have been difficult to actually see the weather.
‘Come and look at this Jan,’ Jan came in from the kitchen, stirring a bowl of cake mix.
‘What is it?’
‘Look at the rain, it’s moving in great grey lumps across the valley.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve never seen that before, amazing.’
‘’Tis isn’t it, mind you I wish it wasn’t raining. There’s so much to do outside. We need to get the crops planted-we need the money.’
‘I know, but never mind love, there are plenty of jobs you could do indoors.’ Mike was fully aware of his ever-extending workload, but David, ever watchful and all ears, saw an opportunity.
‘Dad, could we have the telly back?’
‘Aw yeah dad could we?’ Mandy chipped in.
‘That’s a good idea Mike; they’ve been so good, what with starting a new school and walking over the fields to the catch the bus. I’ll leave you lot to it then, I’ll get on with cooking in our deluxe kitchen.’ Jan spoke with more than a hint of irony.
‘Okay, if I knew which box it was in’
‘It’s that one over there Dad, the white box.’
‘I might have known you would know, David,’ Mike said cheerfully, I really don’t know why you want
It wasn’t until bedtime that Janice had the time and space to fully absorb the immensely unusual happening at Chris’s. As she lay with Mike beside her, sleeping deeply after his labours of the day, she could see the events rerunning like a film. Her brain shuffled the images to the left and the right. Why had Chris behaved like that? God, I hardly know the woman, perhaps it is because she is a comparative stranger that makes the situation so dreamlike-and exciting. Is she a bit queer? Am I? After all, I did touch her breasts. No, she’s got two kids-well so have I. On the other hand why should there have to be a name, a label, for something so innocent as a touch? Jan shouldn’t have been surprised at her confused reaction to the event. Because she wasn’t one for detailed planning, nor for analysing her own or other people’s emotions, she simply had no mechanism for dealing with such things. Her accepting and caring nature was of the, what is, is, variety, something that Mike found difficult to understand because he was always trying to find the logic behind the illogical. The only certainty for Jan on this occasion was that here, in the darkness, she was finding it more arousing now than then. Her fingertips were remembering the silky smoothness, the warmth and texture of another woman’s breast, as they now explored her own breasts. Was there a difference-not really, and she wondered what other parts of Chris’s body would be like to touch. But then, perhaps the excitement was in the fantasy, and not the actuality. There again, perhaps it was the ‘sameness’ that excited her. It had been strangely familiar, like touching herself. Whatever it might be, Jan’s other hand was moving down, down between her soft, smooth thighs.
Even though he moved silently through the midnight darkness,in the house, the dog,ever alert, stood barking at the unseen threat. In the shed, he slowly and quietly drew back the back the bolt on the pig pen door. The sleeping pigs nestling in the warm straw, snuffled and huffed contentedly, unaware, as yet, that a gentle push on the door would give them freedom. The intruder gave a sly grin of satisfaction as closed the shed door behind him.
The next morning, Saturday, the dry weather had broken and the children were playing in the large sitting room, well, what they were now calling, the ‘sitting room,’ still a bit of a mess and a stack of unopened boxes still remained in one corner - Jan just didn’t know where to put what. Mike was staring out of the window wondering which job to tackle next and watching the rain moving across the valley like billowing grey waves. Back in the town it would have been difficult to actually see the weather.
‘Come and look at this Jan,’ Jan came in from the kitchen, stirring a bowl of cake mix.
‘What is it?’
‘Look at the rain, it’s moving in great grey lumps across the valley.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve never seen that before, amazing.’
‘’Tis isn’t it, mind you I wish it wasn’t raining. There’s so much to do outside. We need to get the crops planted-we need the money.’
‘I know, but never mind love, there are plenty of jobs you could do indoors.’ Mike was fully aware of his ever-extending workload, but David, ever watchful and all ears, saw an opportunity.
‘Dad, could we have the telly back?’
‘Aw yeah dad could we?’ Mandy chipped in.
‘That’s a good idea Mike; they’ve been so good, what with starting a new school and walking over the fields to the catch the bus. I’ll leave you lot to it then, I’ll get on with cooking in our deluxe kitchen.’ Jan spoke with more than a hint of irony.
‘Okay, if I knew which box it was in’
‘It’s that one over there Dad, the white box.’
‘I might have known you would know, David,’ Mike said cheerfully, I really don’t know why you want
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