Live to Tell

Live to Tell by G. L. Watt Page B

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Authors: G. L. Watt
nearly every day this week and I’ve had to bribe him to let me. I think I’ll have to buy one for us, but I might be able to persuade him to sell us his. What do you think? Would that be OK with you?”
    I laughed as a feeling akin to relief spread over me and my fears evaporated. “Whatever you decide, will be fine by me,” I said. “I’ll even ride on your motor bike if I have to.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, nearly spilling his coffee.
    “That’s why I’m sometimes late. It’s much quicker by bike and I miss-judge the traffic. Well, as I’ve still got the car, shall we go out somewhere today? What about visiting your family?”
    “My family? What on earth do you want to see them for?” I pulled a face.
    “Well, the way you talk about them, they sound nice. We need only stay for half-an-hour, if that’s what you want. “He put down the coffee, leaned over and started to tickle me. “Or are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
    I squealed at him. “As my mother would say, just you wash your mouth out with soap, young man. Stop it.” I pushed his hands away. “Believe me; she’ll swoon when she sees you. She’s always telling my father he isn’t tall enough.” I dropped my head down onto his chest and tried to bite him but he held my hands out.
    Danny’s body was strong and muscular, and his nipples were large but for some reason they seemed to embarrass him. I loved playing with them and found it had a devastating effect on him. “No you don’t, woman,” he said. “You’ve got me already. There’s no need to subdue me as well.”
    “Well, I’m going to take a bath, then.” I’d never been called woman, before and I liked it.
    “That sounds like a good idea, I’ll join you.”
    “There isn’t room for both of us!”
    “You can sit on my lap!”

    While Danny was shaving, I phoned my mum from the pay phone in the building’s lobby. It reeked of stale cigarette smoke and I avoided using it whenever possible, worried the rank air would make my hair smell but this morning I had no choice.
    “Hello, dear,” my mother said. “There’s nothing wrong is there? Are you alright? We were just talking about you.”
    “Yes, yes. Of course there’s nothing wrong. I was just wondering if I could pop round for tea, that’s all.”
    “For tea? Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? Shall I get your dad to pick you up at the station?”
    “No, it’s alright. I’m coming with a friend in a car.”
    “She says she’s coming in a car, with a friend,” I heard her say. “Are you sure? He says it’s no trouble.”
    “Mum, I don’t need a lift, OK? I’ll see you later. OK?”
    “Well, yes, OK dear. See you later then.”

    The estate my family lived on had only been built ten years before. It seemed to have no straight lines, but was a series of curved roads, with closes running off them and was almost impossible to navigate unless previously you had learned your route.
    “Our” road was quite narrow and each house had a landscaped area in front of a red-brick exterior, rather than a fence, with low ornamental bushes and the occasional fan palm set in gravel. A curving path ran from the road to the colonnaded front door, and the side area was paved over as hard standing for a second car. Mum didn’t drive, and Dad usually parked in the garage so the area was free for visitors. In the summer bedding plants lined the route, but now its stark lines were uninterrupted and, as Dad spent a lot of time tidying the garden, had a well swept look. Aunt Jess’s car was parked there, which meant that there was no room for ours.
    I hoped Danny wouldn’t find my father intimidating. I thought he was sweet, but when I told my contemporaries at school what he did for a living, a lot of them made rude comments, and my fellow college students were positively hostile to the concept of a tax accountant. I got the feeling from what Danny didn’t say, that his father was probably higher

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