There I was, strolling casually on my way to the hairdresser's. I was happy and calm and at peace with things. The RD mind, as if often the case, was like the RD wallet; fairly empty, unless you include receipts and credit cards.
Then I heard it.
At first it was faint, a distant sound that had been carried by the wind and ended up hovering around one of my ears. I barely paid any attention to it, but the next time it was that little bit louder.
"RD, RD, I'm here. I want you and you want me". The rhyming was accidental.
It wasn't the deep voice of a bearded six foot bloke either. Which was nice.
It was feminine, husky and seductive, a bit like Britney Spears smoking a cigar, getting all classy and acting sophisticated. Some might say that makes it not like our Britney at all, I'm not one to argue over minutiae, so I'll ignore you.
I looked around, over my shoulder, behind me and all about. I saw nothing, I heard nothing.
Then it was there again.
"RD, I'm here, I know you'll want me."
I turned around quickly determined to find her, eager to see her and feeling a little bit of a wanker. This was Kingston on a Saturday afternoon, not some American film with Jennifer Aniston and a random Zach.
This time I saw her. Or, more accurately, I caught a glimpse of her beautiful and sexy curves. They took my breath away and made me swallow air. I was transfixed as she just looked at me with the arrogance of a girl who knows she can have any man she wanted.
Involuntarily my hand reached out and started to stroke and caress her curves, before I could do anything to stop it, not that I would have. She didn't flinch, she didn't do that usual thing, when they say "fuck off perve, I thought you were my cab that's all". I could feel my pupils dilating and the tension growing. She asked me to take her home, we both knew there was only one outcome. Why mess around I thought, still unsure about the quotation mark rule for one's thoughts.
I knew that she'd be expensive, that she might be trouble and that her glamour and her exquisite sense of style would be too much for me, but logic went flying out of the window and gut feelings, emotions and the butterflies in my stomach were the rulers of the day.
It had to be done. I took her home and turned her on. One day I'll fail to turn her on. Until then she sits on the side looking like this.
It was a lot of money for a kettle, worth every penny I think.
Happy Monday all.