The Proposition

Summertime, and the living is supposed to be easy, but you know the old saying – fix the roof while the sun is shining – so for the industrious, the summertime is little more than a season of toil, a chance to get all those outside jobs done before the autumn rains arrive. Long summer nights? Mow the lawn, fix the shed door, weed the garden, build the gazebo, fix the decking, repair the dodgy window, replace the guttering, etc, etc, etc…It’s never ending and you pray for winter so, although you go to work in the dark and come back home in the dark, at least you can use that same dark as an excuse to wrap up warm and huddle indoors, laying down fat to get you through to spring.

And so it was that I decided I needed a little down time, a little ‘me time’ and I headed off to the big city. Okay a little city. Town, then. After a pleasant enough mini pub crawl along the riverside pubs, thronging with early evening revellers and giddy kids, young and old, graceful and disgraceful, I decided to head for a little more ‘sophistication’ and went in search of a more up-market venue and eventually found myself in a plush seat at the back of a dark and smoky speakeasy kind of a place. A jazz band played in the corner and my mind gently drifted along, sinking into the velvety ambience of that sleazy joint.

A young woman arrived at the bar, right in my eye line and even from behind she was quite a sight. Her long legs on display from porn-star heels all the way to a barely-there, slit-thigh skirt, clad in sheer nylon with a perfect seam supporting a behind of such exquisite pertness it was hard to look away. So, naturally when she turned around she caught me staring. As my eyes drifted northwards I realised she was looking straight back at me and I quickly looked down at my drink. A few moments later I dared to look up again and I was alarmed that she was still looking straight back at me. She caught my eyes for a moment and a guilty flush spread across my cheeks.

I took a long time to repeatedly sip at my drink, averting my gaze from the bar the whole time and trusting the dim lighting to hide my reddening face. My glass was empty but as I went to put it down a pair of high-heeled feet appeared in my field of view. I couldn’t help myself and transfixed, I let my gaze travel slowly upwards, taking in those oh-so-long legs and perfect hourglass figure until, unable to do otherwise, I found myself staring into that face of a goddess. She smiled back and handed me a glass of what looked very much like what I was drinking. Now I began to panic.

Whaddya want, stud?

My pulse was quickening as she leant closer, held my gaze and said, with no prompting, “I'll do anything you want me to do, no matter how bizarre, for £200, with one condition." Flabbergasted, I stuttered slightly as, instead of excusing myself I heard myself ask “What’s the condition?” She smiled; a smile that could light a thousand suns. I felt my heart pounding against my chest as she leaned over closer still and whispered in my ear, “You have to tell me what you want me to do in just three words." I thought about it for just seconds before fumbling in my wallet. Handing over ten twenties I said, “Paint my house.”