see you again. Sorry if Boleyn got a bit over-excited
then. We didn’t mean to interrupt your night.”
“No problem, it’s
nice to see her so lively. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone
back here. Sorry if you witnessed my little performance just now.
It’s kind of a tradition I have with the staff, it’s not really
meant for public viewing,” I squirmed, looking down at my hands
while I beamed a lovely shade of crimson.
A few laughs came from
the table, and Boleyn chimed in. “I thought it was funny, Miss!”
Having not dared make
too much eye contact with the rest of the patrons through utter
mortification, I decided it was probably best to make my excuses as
soon as possible. “Well, I’ll leave you to it; I don't want to
keep you from your evening. Buon appetito .”
I quickly turned to
scurry off, and heard muffled voices behind me. I could hear Boleyn
throwing an uncharacteristic strop and a gruff male voice spit
something out sharply in response, but ultimately making grunts of
defeat.
What is all that
about? Ignore it and run. Stop embarrassing yourself.
“Oh, Ms. Munro!”
shouted Mrs. Jones.
Arghhh! I turned
my head slightly towards her call.
“Could we introduce
you to the rest of the family?”
Noooo!!! I must have
sinned badly in a past life. I just want to go and hide under a rock!
In a fake, cheery tone
I answered. “Sure, I’d love to.”
Tink and what seemed
like every Italian immigrant in Canada were all watching me with
their mouths wide open.
What the fuck is
going on? Is my train wreck of embarrassment really that bad? Shit,
is my skirt tucked into my knickers?
Mrs. Jones (or Pamela,
as she urged me to call her) came over, took my arm, and escorted me
back to the table while I discreetly checked the back of my skirt,
making sure I didn’t have a whopping wedgie. You’ll be pleased to
learn that it was all good.
The introductions
started with Boleyn’s side of the table.
I put my hand out and
said to my student. “Hi, I don’t think that we’ve met? I’m
Ms. Munro.”
Boleyn began laughing
whole-heartedly and shook my hand right back. “Hi! I’m Boleyn,”
“Like Anne?” I
teased.
“Yeah, but don’t
behead me,” she joked.
“Well, only if you’re
a good singer and can rock out to Adele like no-one’s business!”
Blushing, but obviously
flattered, she answered, “I think I can do that.”
I winked and looked at
the next person, a beautiful blonde with blue eyes who looked about
my age.
“Ms. Munro, this is
Samantha; she is married to my eldest son, Henry,” Pamela
explained, pointing to Samantha and a casually dressed man next to
her.
I nodded, smiled and
shook both their hands. “Hi, nice to meet you Samantha, and you
too, Henry.”
They both smiled back,
reciprocating the pleasantries. Henry had longish dirty-blonde hair
that ran just enough to tuck behind his ears. He looked like a surfer
– a very good-looking surfer – maybe in his mid-thirties.
Together they looked like Barbie and Ken, all good-looking and
obviously madly in love. It was lovely to see.
“Next is Tate, a
friend of the family,” continued Pamela.
Tate was very cute,
with an extremely happy disposition. I liked him instantly. He had
the preppy look down to a T, with a crisp white shirt, dark denim
jeans and a red dickey bow tie. He had dark hair styled in a
comb-over and was cute as a button. I would bet any money that he
batted for Tink’s team.
“And this is?” I
asked, turning to the massive bloke on the end with the beanie hat
hiding most of his face. He peeked up reluctantly, and I went to
introduce myself, and then stopped.
Well, shave my head
and call me baldy!
“Holy shit!” I
gasped and covered my hands with my mouth as if I could stuff my
inappropriate cursing back in. “I’m sorry. But–”
“ Yes , Ms.
Munro. Please let me introduce my youngest son, Tudor,” Pamela
announced, chuckling to herself.
“Hi,” he looked up
briefly sporting a
then. We didn’t mean to interrupt your night.”
“No problem, it’s
nice to see her so lively. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone
back here. Sorry if you witnessed my little performance just now.
It’s kind of a tradition I have with the staff, it’s not really
meant for public viewing,” I squirmed, looking down at my hands
while I beamed a lovely shade of crimson.
A few laughs came from
the table, and Boleyn chimed in. “I thought it was funny, Miss!”
Having not dared make
too much eye contact with the rest of the patrons through utter
mortification, I decided it was probably best to make my excuses as
soon as possible. “Well, I’ll leave you to it; I don't want to
keep you from your evening. Buon appetito .”
I quickly turned to
scurry off, and heard muffled voices behind me. I could hear Boleyn
throwing an uncharacteristic strop and a gruff male voice spit
something out sharply in response, but ultimately making grunts of
defeat.
What is all that
about? Ignore it and run. Stop embarrassing yourself.
“Oh, Ms. Munro!”
shouted Mrs. Jones.
Arghhh! I turned
my head slightly towards her call.
“Could we introduce
you to the rest of the family?”
Noooo!!! I must have
sinned badly in a past life. I just want to go and hide under a rock!
In a fake, cheery tone
I answered. “Sure, I’d love to.”
Tink and what seemed
like every Italian immigrant in Canada were all watching me with
their mouths wide open.
What the fuck is
going on? Is my train wreck of embarrassment really that bad? Shit,
is my skirt tucked into my knickers?
Mrs. Jones (or Pamela,
as she urged me to call her) came over, took my arm, and escorted me
back to the table while I discreetly checked the back of my skirt,
making sure I didn’t have a whopping wedgie. You’ll be pleased to
learn that it was all good.
The introductions
started with Boleyn’s side of the table.
I put my hand out and
said to my student. “Hi, I don’t think that we’ve met? I’m
Ms. Munro.”
Boleyn began laughing
whole-heartedly and shook my hand right back. “Hi! I’m Boleyn,”
“Like Anne?” I
teased.
“Yeah, but don’t
behead me,” she joked.
“Well, only if you’re
a good singer and can rock out to Adele like no-one’s business!”
Blushing, but obviously
flattered, she answered, “I think I can do that.”
I winked and looked at
the next person, a beautiful blonde with blue eyes who looked about
my age.
“Ms. Munro, this is
Samantha; she is married to my eldest son, Henry,” Pamela
explained, pointing to Samantha and a casually dressed man next to
her.
I nodded, smiled and
shook both their hands. “Hi, nice to meet you Samantha, and you
too, Henry.”
They both smiled back,
reciprocating the pleasantries. Henry had longish dirty-blonde hair
that ran just enough to tuck behind his ears. He looked like a surfer
– a very good-looking surfer – maybe in his mid-thirties.
Together they looked like Barbie and Ken, all good-looking and
obviously madly in love. It was lovely to see.
“Next is Tate, a
friend of the family,” continued Pamela.
Tate was very cute,
with an extremely happy disposition. I liked him instantly. He had
the preppy look down to a T, with a crisp white shirt, dark denim
jeans and a red dickey bow tie. He had dark hair styled in a
comb-over and was cute as a button. I would bet any money that he
batted for Tink’s team.
“And this is?” I
asked, turning to the massive bloke on the end with the beanie hat
hiding most of his face. He peeked up reluctantly, and I went to
introduce myself, and then stopped.
Well, shave my head
and call me baldy!
“Holy shit!” I
gasped and covered my hands with my mouth as if I could stuff my
inappropriate cursing back in. “I’m sorry. But–”
“ Yes , Ms.
Munro. Please let me introduce my youngest son, Tudor,” Pamela
announced, chuckling to herself.
“Hi,” he looked up
briefly sporting a
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