Easy As Falling Asleep.
by Angharad & Winnie the Pooh,
part 26 (and who said it wouldn't last?).
"I don't think I like you Simon," I said to myself. I still had to get home and a lift with him was easier than walking in these boots. They may be comfortable for the moment, but walking a mile in someone else' boots is not recommended by podiatrists, especially ones with three inch heels.
I was trying to think quickly and so far wasn't having much effect, a bit like my cycling. After all my training I was still crap, but better crap than I was before, so it was all relative. If I could get Simon to give me a lift to my flat, change my shoes, grab the bits I needed to borrow the bike and then get him to take me back to the shop, or to the university. I won't go to my lectures but he doesn't know that.
"I don't want you to report Kev, because nothing happened and it would be pure malice on your part."
"Absolutely," nodded Simon, "malice of the purest form. I saw you first, end of story."
"I am not some product on a supermarket shelf, Simon. I'm a woman and I have feelings." I almost simpered at this stage although I knew he wouldn't fall for the old tears trick.
"All of them good, I hope."
"I beg your pardon?" I said in bewilderment.
"Your feelings," he gave me a beaming smile. He was running rings around me and it should have been the other way about. I'm the woman here, supposed to be in charge, wrapping him around my little finger and he does this to me. I'll bet Kev wouldn't do that to me!
I had now forgotten what I was going to say, what item of scintillating wit I had been saving to destroy him. Okay so I'm lying, but he doesn't know that, if all else fails make some disparaging remark about his masculinity.
"What do you care about my feelings?" I came back with a stormer.
"Very much." There was that beaming smile again.
"Very much what?" I asked having forgotten what we were talking about.
"I care very much for your feelings; look Cathy, if you're going to argue with me at least remember what you are saying otherwise it gets very confusing. The way things are going, you'll be attacking my masculinity next. If you do, I could hit back by mentioning the small size of your breasts. But being a gentleman, I wouldn't dream of saying such a thing."
"You just did!" I wailed, folding my arms over my small breasts.
"No sweetie, I said I could not would, say it."
"Could, would, who gives a shit, if my tits are too small why are you wanting to date me anyway, are you into boyish girls, is that it, are you a repressed homosexual?" That should have hit him right between the eyes, lets see him laugh that off, question both his masculinity and his sexuality - both barrels, woooooooo!
To my astonishment Simon roared with laughter. "That is very good Cathy, boyish girls, repressed homosexual, that is so funny."
I stood there absolutely gob-smacked, why isn't he reeling under my deluge of blows, or is he going to laugh himself into a coma?
"Most men I know wouldn't find it very funny," I pouted.
"That's their silly fault then. I can assure you I am a normal, heterosexual bloke, who finds you attractive partly because of your naivete, but also because you are a very pretty girl. Okay, I'd prefer it if you had bigger breasts but it's not that important. I can't help who I fancy, it's all to do with brain chemistry or something. As for the gay sex bit, I had plenty of opportunity at Millfield, believe me, and it wasn't my scene at all."
So he went to a public school, rich bastard! "Did Stella go to a public school as well?" I asked changing the subject for a moment to buy myself some time to think.
"She went to Millfield as well, I hate to think what our education cost my parents, especially with flying lessons and ponies and things."
"So why are you interested in a flat chested prole like me? It amuses you does it, bit of rough?" I felt a bit out of my depth and was hitting out wherever I could, maybe I should just let him report Kev and get the hell out of it? But then I rarely did what was good for me.
"Let's go back to the car, shall we as this is getting rather personal?"
We walked in relative silence back to the Volvo and got into it. "It's limited parking here, so I'm going to drive somewhere with less restrictions and which is a bit quieter, is that okay?"
"I don't know," I mumbled, for all I knew he was going to drive somewhere very quiet and attempt to rape me or worse.
"Is there somewhere you'd prefer to go, bearing in mind that this is costing my bank a couple of million pounds an hour. So sadly, I don't have all day."
"Take me home," I said, shocked by what he had just said, "maybe you'd better go to work and save the economy."
"Not until you promise to come out tomorrow night."
"Let me think about it." I felt very confused, well I didn't really, to go out on any sort of date with a randy bloke was risking being murdered.
"What is there to think about, you have something to wear and it looked fine. I shall collect you and take you back home, your home that is."
"I erm, I don't know Simon." I blushed and was close to tears. I was terrified.
"Look I'm only asking you out for dinner, I'm not asking you to sleep with me or to marry me for God's sake."
"I don't do sex on a first date," I said, which was true, never having had sex, it had to be. "And last night doesn't count as a date." I covered myself there.
"Despite finding you extremely attractive, I don't actually know whether I'd want sex with you anyway," he said diffidently.
"Why? What's wrong with me? Tits too small, is that it?" I shrieked. I was disgusted.
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