Easy As Writing This.
by: Mother Christmas.
part: 150 + 1. (12 dozen plus 7).

I cuddled down with Simon, wishing I'd brought some sexier nighties, a long tee shirt with a picture of a yawning mouse on the front, is hardly seductive nightwear. Then did I want to seduce him? I wasn't sure - dammit, I was absolutely sure, yes I did want to seduce him, but not before I'd had God's cock-up, maybe slip up would sound better, otherwise it could sound like the problem the Virgin Mary had!

Hell I was so randy, but I had to control myself. Another few months and ...., what if it hurts? Arrrgh! What if I can't feel anything except somebody trying to give me a sore throat by another route? Oh hell, more to worry about.

Simon put his arm around my waist and pulled me into him, I could feel something growing, it was almost stabbing me in the buttocks. "I love you Lady Kate," he said suggestively, and kissed my ear.

"Who? You're not talking in your sleep I hope?" I pretended to be outraged.

"Wha', who, what's going on?" he pretended he was asleep and we both giggled. I like men who can giggle, I don't feel quite so stupid when I do it then.

"So what are you going to do tomorrow?" I asked him.

"Oh I think, play, like your dormice, you know, when the cat's away...." He chuckled to himself and and the hard thing in my back wobbled up and down.

"I think there's the loose spring in this bed," I said.

"I hope not, it's less than a year old," he commented with indignation.

"I'm sure there is, I can feel it sticking in my back, here...." I grabbed behind me and gasped with mock surprise, "Ooh it's not a spring, you were quite right."

We laughed as I turned around to lie on my back, still holding on to something. "I think this is the first time, I've ever had someone by the short and curlies," I said almost choking on my laughter.

"I see, and what do you mean by that?" he asked quite assertively.

"A girl I knew in Sussex used to say, 'Lead 'em by the balls and their hearts and minds soon follow.' I sort of knew what it meant, but that was in a literal sense, I've just had a second insight into what it meant."

"Oh, so she didn't lead you around then?" He asked gently rubbing my breast and squeezing my nipple.

"No, she was just a friend, more an acquaintance, probably thought I was gay anyway."

"Why would she think that?" he continued massaging my chest.

"Because I didn't date anyone. I didn't know how, does that sound awful?"

"No, unless you have actually tried something, how can you know how to do it? I think I commented on your gauche efforts the first few times."

"Probably, I was running on so much adrenalin the first couple of times I met you, that I probably would have tested positive for something in a drugs test."

"Why was that?" he continued to stroke my nipple and then before I could answer him, he kissed me.

I wanted him so badly, I was almost twitching with lust. Then when he leant over and sucked my nipple through the cotton, I almost squeezed his appendage right off! He had to move his hand to mine to get me to relax my grip.

"Sorry," I squeaked and sniggered.

"It's not funny," he groaned, "I didn't realise you had so much strength in your fingers. Coo!"

"Would you like me to kiss it better?" I asked coyly.

"Not just at this minute," he said lying on his back, and putting his arm under my neck.

I turned to face him, and started kissing his nipple.

"I can't believe you were frightened of me, looking at you now," he observed.

Recalling my fear of the first few times we met, I shrank back from him. "I was terrified, like I said, I'd never dated anyone before."

"Frightened of me, how could anyone be frightened of me?"

"Simon you are twice my size. My experience of men finding out about me, usually resulted in violence."

"Why who else knows?"

"I mean my dad."

"Oh that. Have you forgiven him for it yet?"

"I try not to think about it, he's apologised and he returned my dolly."

"Returned your dolly?"

"Yeah, when I was about eight, I swapped a football for a doll with a girl in school."

"What did she want with a football?" he asked.

"She was a tomboy and probably had more use for it than for a doll. After Christmas, we were asked what Santa had brought, and I said a football. Actually what I said was this long list of things like pencils and colouring books, and a stupid football.

She came up to me at break time and said, 'What do you want to swap for your football?' I asked her what she was offering and she said she had a new doll she didn't want. We swapped surrepticiously the next day.

Daddy found me playing with it, some weeks or so later. By that time I'd swapped my football kit, Chelsea I think it was, anyway it was blue, for a few different outfits for my dolly."

"What happened when he found you with your dolly?"

"He got very red and demanded to know where I'd got it. I told him I bought it off a girl in school, who had too many. Then he snatched it away and all her clothes and told me he'd smashed her and chucked her in the bin. I went to run to the bin screaming, and he caught hold of me and ...." I felt a tear escape.

"I think I can live without the details, hey," he kissed my tears," no need to cry, you can have as many dollies as you want."

"Thank you," I sobbed, and he held me tightly, whispering sweet nothings. Suddenly my lust and nerve had deserted me, and I was back to the gauche schoolgirl again.

"You're safe now, no one will ever hurt you again, I promise." He spoke gently but with enough edge to let me know he meant it.

I nodded feeling even more stupid and embarrassed than usual. I was never going to be a seductress, so I might as well give up now and enter a convent.

"I love you Lady Kate," he said, and kissed my tears again.

"When you sent that Paddington," I sniffed, "the bloke who delivered it was a real moron. He couldn't read the address."

"Well how did it get to you then?" he asked, suddenly getting all rational.

"No, he couldn't make out the addressee. He asked for Lady Stane something or other."

"Oh yes, my little joke," Simon sniggered, "just trying to get you used to it, that was all."

"Well I said to him, Stain remover is it?"

"He said, 'could be,' so I took it."

"It's an old joke. They used to call me 'Dabitoff' at school."

"Why you're not Russian?" I said innocently, whereupon he fell back on the bed and convulsed with laughter.

It was some minutes later before he could control himself, and I felt more stupid than ever. "What did I say?" I asked and he curled up with laughter again. I was laughing too, because you do, even though you have no idea for what.

"You have never heard of a solvent you could get for spot cleaning, called Dab-it-off?"

"No, why."

"I think they've probably withdrawn it now, stop kids sniffing it."

"I don't understand?" I was genuinely perplexed and embarrassed.

"Stain remover, Dab-it-off, was I Russian?" He fell back and once more laughed like a drain, only this time, I could understand why, and laughed with him. I was still embarrassed, but it was acceptable now.

We spooned together, and I felt his warm body pressing against mine, only now he was asleep. It felt good, I was safe with him, in all senses and I felt a tear roll down my cheek and drip onto the pillow. I was crying because I was happy, stupid isn't it, but I couldn't help it.

The next morning, I arose early and went off to shower, Simon was still asleep. I wanted to pop into the office to see Pippa about a few things. I dressed and dried my hair, I was in jeans for the drive back, so I didn't bother with makeup. Besides my eyes were sore, I hadn't slept too well, I was too warm to be really comfortable and I had thoughts and memories rattling around my brain most of the night. Simon also snores when he lies on his back, so I had to keep poking him too. I think I shall buy some ear plugs when I get the chance.

I took him his breakfast and kissed him goodbye. He gave me a hangdog look and I nearly cried again, but I think my lachrymal glands must have run dry.

"God you look rough!" exclaimed Pippa, quickly putting her hand up to her mouth. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that...."

I gave her a Paddington hard stare, and said, "Simon snores, enough said?"

She nodded and sniggered, "Tea?"

"Yes please."

I did an hour's work and passed the results on to Pippa to type and send off. I was beginning to see that working for the government was more of a curse than a blessing. But as the professor said, it was how we funded the things we want to do, rather than they want us to do, which benefits the most. I remember him joking once that he called his reports to the Department of the Environment, his 'periods', they came monthly and were a curse! I could see what he meant.

At ten, I set off for Bristol, yawning like mad and hoping it was a straight forward drive.

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