NO MORE MRS NICE-GIRL

First and foremost, to make myself feel better, prettier
and desirable-I decided to seduce Max. He was the Gothy,
sexy, Depp-ite who was nearly young enough to be my son.
I dragged Alex with me too (as a prop) and waited with
Shirley at the bar until my intended prey showed up.
"Saw your old Ma, looks very well." Said my bosomy
barmaid.
"You can have her if you want! Stinking the flat out
with fags and generally acting like a complete control
freak." I puffed deeply on my own cigarette to make a
point.
"What's she back for anyway?"
"Dunno! I guess she's split up with that Italian
geezer, Gianni. Mind you he was a wicked old ponce!"
My eyes caught sight of Max as he entered with a
dazzlingly lovely girl of about 18. Oh. So that was
that then. When he saw me his face lit up into a
gorgeous smile.
"Becka!"
That was it, I was entranced and so was he. Alex
and Shirley sat dourly at the bar (like book-ends)
giving me old-fashioned looks. Who cares?
When I got him up and running so to speak, I realized
where were we going to go? Mother was at mine and
Max lived with his folks.
"It's no good-it'll have to be in the car!" Said Max
enthusiastically. Balls. It was all right for him,
he was 20, I'm 34, it's a bit saddo really. In for
a penny in for a pound. I'd forgotten what it is
like to sleep with a really young guy. He was so
smooth and soft and hard in all the right places. I
began to realize the absurdity of the situation,
here I was sitting in a parked car by Clapham Common
with my arse in the air. Could life be more perfect?
Tomorrow Mission Alan.
Becka