Lesley Gleeson - winner
"Good as Viagra, she is." He's leaning on my dishwasher. He doesn't look like a man that needs Viagra.
"Who?" I'm pretending to iron while surreptitiously clocking the hunk tinkering with my appliance.
"That Jenni Murray. She doesn't half get my juices going."
"Jenni Murray?"
"Woman's Hour," he says, like he's talking to an idiot. "Her." He points his screwdriver at the radio. "Very sexy voice."
"Hadn't noticed."
"You can tell a lot about a person from their voice," he informs me, caressing my silverware baskets.
"Really?" I try to sound sexy, Eartha Kitt in the kitchen. It comes out Sue Pollard in the pantry.
"Take me, for instance..."
Yes, please, I think.
"My voice isn't sexy..."
"Sounds OK to me." Bit forward, but what the heck, he started it.
"More honest, steady, reliable. It wouldn't turn anyone on but it's good for giving out information."
I abandon the pretence of ironing and study 'Greg' as his overalls announce.
He's golden syrup brown. Hair cropped - number 2, I estimate. It'll feel like velvet if I rub my hands over it. STOP!
"Information?" Edith Evans voice this time.
He squats to remove my plinth. The material of his overall pulls taut over his thighs and buttocks. "I say things and people assume I know what I'm talking about. Being truthful."Ìý
I steady my breathing. "For instance?"
"My wife doesn't understand me." His voice bounces round inside the cavity of the dishwasher.
"Really?"
He smiles as he looks up at me. "Nah. But you thought it was true, didn't you?" I blush. "You've got a very sexy voice." You're turning me on, I want to add. "Say something else."
"What?"
"Dunno. Give me some of your information." I'm drawing patterns on the work surface with the tip of my finger, like a temptress in a movie.
Greg rummages amongst his tools. "I've only got this parts list..."
I lean over, squeezing my arms together, hoping it'll give me some cleavage. "Read it, Greg."
"Top spray nozzle support."
Yes.
"Power tower adapter."
Oh, yes.
"Shaft and rack cup."
Oh, do it to me, baby.
"Deluxe coupler."
"Stop, Greg, please." Norman Wisdom voice now.
"Not sexy?"
I clear my throat. "Very. That's the problem."
Suddenly, he's beside me, very close. "Hot point," he says.
"Yes," I say, finally mastering Eartha Kitt. "I can tell."
We leave Jenni Murray talking to an empty kitchen.
Disclaimer
The 91Èȱ¬ is not responsible for the content of external websites. |
