accent. ‘Why on earth would I want to fondle a cow’s udder, when I could pick up a carton of semi-skimmed from Marks & Spencers?’
Is he mad ? Clearly he was. Whilst trying to get away from the eejit, I spotted the ride from earlier staring straight at me… so quickly switched tactics and pretended to enjoy the painstaking conversation with the yokel. I turned back to him and smiled sweetly.
‘Actually … on second thoughts, maybe I would play with a cow’s udder,’ I added deviously, slamming on the flirtation switch.
‘Sure that’s grand news , so it is!’ slobbered the revolting yokel, looking delighted. ‘Can you cooke? I’m a meat and two veg man meself, so I am.’
‘ Ah! You’re so funny!’ I laughed, deliberately too loud. ‘Me, cook? I can’t cook for toffee!’ I said, giving him a playful shove; knocking the featherweight slightly off-balance.
‘Oh , I’m so sorry!’ I gasped, grabbing him by the arm. Actually, I wasn't. I took the opportunity to see if the hunk in the corner was still watching. He was.
‘Ah, never mind su re, you’re me dream woman, so ye are,’ said the yokel, steadying himself, shuffling his way closer and closer until I had to take a step back. ‘I likes a bit of rough and tumble me self, sure I do.’
He just didn’t seem to get it that I really didn’t care for his ‘meat and two veg’. I wanted the gorgeous ride’s meat and two veg - that was far more appetising.
‘Can I catch you for a dance later?’ leered the indefatigable yokel.
Ah, see mum and dad had very strict views on this. They brought us girls up to know that if ever a man had plucked up the courage to ask us to dance, we were never to say no. They had really drummed it in. So, of course, my answer was ‘yes’. However, I drew comfort in my traditional get-out clause – my would-be dance partner would have to try and find me first.
‘I’ll be back later for that dance ,’ I grinned, turning to dart away. He picked up my hand and slobbered a kiss on it. Yuck! Smiling through gritted teeth, I worked my way back to the real men.
Shite! I couldn’t see him. He had completely disappeared. I didn’t want it to appear that I was looking for him - so, disappointed, I sloped over to Laura. She was on her third pint of Carlsberg already. I could never comprehend how she was able to drink beer at the same rate as men and still remain upright at the end of the night. She seemed to be having a ball too and was flirting outrageously with a very handsome six-foot-tall, broad, blonde Adonis. She was in her element. The Adonis pulled her out to dance and I was left alone with the other players, feeling a little vulnerable. Lovely as the rugby boys were, I couldn’t help but try and find my ride from earlier... Nothing. That bloody farmer! My heart sank. Giving up hope, I threw back my vodka and Coke, swallowing it down in one.
Then , suddenly all six-foot plus of my hunk emerged from the darkness, striding directly towards me. My heart rate accelerated instantly and my instincts were screaming: pout, pout, and look cool! Don't look at him, Tara! I just couldn’t help but gawk; he was just so god-damn sexy.
For a few seconds, I felt as though my legs had been cut off beneath me, as I stood paralysed in awe. He was so incredibly, mind-blowingly gorgeous. My stomach flipped over as our eyes locked. I tried to look away but, quite simply, I was mesmerized. I managed to pull myself out of my stupor for long enough to check out his left hand to make sure there was no Mrs. Beautiful - there wasn’t. After that I was completely lost again.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, in a slow, sexy voice, ‘your friend said you fell over.’
‘I’m fine , thank you,’ I purred (even though I was seething inside with Laura). The bitch! Why the hell did she have to go tell him that ? Sometimes she stoops lower than a centipedes arse!
‘I haven’t seen you around here before ,’ he continued in an
Is he mad ? Clearly he was. Whilst trying to get away from the eejit, I spotted the ride from earlier staring straight at me… so quickly switched tactics and pretended to enjoy the painstaking conversation with the yokel. I turned back to him and smiled sweetly.
‘Actually … on second thoughts, maybe I would play with a cow’s udder,’ I added deviously, slamming on the flirtation switch.
‘Sure that’s grand news , so it is!’ slobbered the revolting yokel, looking delighted. ‘Can you cooke? I’m a meat and two veg man meself, so I am.’
‘ Ah! You’re so funny!’ I laughed, deliberately too loud. ‘Me, cook? I can’t cook for toffee!’ I said, giving him a playful shove; knocking the featherweight slightly off-balance.
‘Oh , I’m so sorry!’ I gasped, grabbing him by the arm. Actually, I wasn't. I took the opportunity to see if the hunk in the corner was still watching. He was.
‘Ah, never mind su re, you’re me dream woman, so ye are,’ said the yokel, steadying himself, shuffling his way closer and closer until I had to take a step back. ‘I likes a bit of rough and tumble me self, sure I do.’
He just didn’t seem to get it that I really didn’t care for his ‘meat and two veg’. I wanted the gorgeous ride’s meat and two veg - that was far more appetising.
‘Can I catch you for a dance later?’ leered the indefatigable yokel.
Ah, see mum and dad had very strict views on this. They brought us girls up to know that if ever a man had plucked up the courage to ask us to dance, we were never to say no. They had really drummed it in. So, of course, my answer was ‘yes’. However, I drew comfort in my traditional get-out clause – my would-be dance partner would have to try and find me first.
‘I’ll be back later for that dance ,’ I grinned, turning to dart away. He picked up my hand and slobbered a kiss on it. Yuck! Smiling through gritted teeth, I worked my way back to the real men.
Shite! I couldn’t see him. He had completely disappeared. I didn’t want it to appear that I was looking for him - so, disappointed, I sloped over to Laura. She was on her third pint of Carlsberg already. I could never comprehend how she was able to drink beer at the same rate as men and still remain upright at the end of the night. She seemed to be having a ball too and was flirting outrageously with a very handsome six-foot-tall, broad, blonde Adonis. She was in her element. The Adonis pulled her out to dance and I was left alone with the other players, feeling a little vulnerable. Lovely as the rugby boys were, I couldn’t help but try and find my ride from earlier... Nothing. That bloody farmer! My heart sank. Giving up hope, I threw back my vodka and Coke, swallowing it down in one.
Then , suddenly all six-foot plus of my hunk emerged from the darkness, striding directly towards me. My heart rate accelerated instantly and my instincts were screaming: pout, pout, and look cool! Don't look at him, Tara! I just couldn’t help but gawk; he was just so god-damn sexy.
For a few seconds, I felt as though my legs had been cut off beneath me, as I stood paralysed in awe. He was so incredibly, mind-blowingly gorgeous. My stomach flipped over as our eyes locked. I tried to look away but, quite simply, I was mesmerized. I managed to pull myself out of my stupor for long enough to check out his left hand to make sure there was no Mrs. Beautiful - there wasn’t. After that I was completely lost again.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, in a slow, sexy voice, ‘your friend said you fell over.’
‘I’m fine , thank you,’ I purred (even though I was seething inside with Laura). The bitch! Why the hell did she have to go tell him that ? Sometimes she stoops lower than a centipedes arse!
‘I haven’t seen you around here before ,’ he continued in an
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