Week 16 - Handcuffs or Thong

It had now been a week since the rather pleasant if incomplete late night phone call with Heather and during that time Heather had called me five times. Twice she claimed she wanted to just apologise for the other night, once to see if I wanted to continue from where we had left off, once because she pressed redial by mistake and once to invite herself round for tea Saturday night. It was all very flattering and I really wanted to see her this Saturday evening, but I had already made plans. Well, perhaps the term 'made plans' is misleading. It was more a case that Shirley had insisted we meet in a country pub called 'The Albion' somewhere on the A38 at seven thirty sharp. She seemed very definite about the ‘sharp’ bit. Lots of things made me uneasy about this night and it wasn’t just that as a Villa fan I felt uneasy about going to a pub called ‘The Albion’. Shirley had on the last two phone calls frequently flipped from sweet and flirty to very scary and dominating in the flick of a finger. So I felt I couldn’t turn the offer down. The final question of ‘do you want me with or without the blue thong?’ was also causing me concern.

As I like to be punctual I was parked outside ‘The Albion’ pub by ten past seven. Far too early but at least I could listen to Danny Baker on 606 with Villa fans ringing to moan about today’s disappointing defeat. Now I had listened a few times to Shirley on the phone and I am pretty sure she described herself, but I just couldn’t remember any details. I had no idea what she looked liked. She had said I had potential so maybe I had described myself to her. Surely I mentioned that I was tall? Maybe not. What had I let myself in for? It was going to be like Blind Date without ‘Our Graham’ and I wasn’t going to get a choice of three to choose from. Now I could feel myself starting to shake and really wish I was having tea with Heather. I mean I even know Heather’s body pretty well naked and could probably recognise it by touch alone. Yet I have no idea to size, shape or texture of Shirley.

It got to nearly half past seven and I started to think that maybe my date might not show. Although, as I wouldn’t recognise her she could have walked straight passed me and I wouldn’t have realised. I decided to go inside and take a look round. Inside it was a very large pub with lots of big wooden tables and not many people. Looking around there were only really two possible ladies. One was quite a pretty blonde girl with glasses that seemed too small to be any use at all. She was nice though but I feared she wasn’t the one. On the other side was a quite enormous woman with dark hair in a bun and she appeared from the angle I was standing to be trying to pick her left ear with a beer-mat. Maybe this was the time to run. That would be unfair and I am not one to go on looks, although the ear-picking was a worry.


I foolishly walked over to the large woman and introduced myself. She just looked at me without giving any hint of recognition. Now on the phone I do remember we had discussed how we would greet each other as I can be awkward the first time. I had suggested a hand shake but Shirley had told me that she would expect a peck on the cheek. So without much communicating going on I gave her a slight peck on her right cheek. Then to my surprise/horror she grabbed hold of me and planted her lips on to mine. Realising that breathing was going to be out of the question for a few seconds I just closed my eyes waiting for it to be all over. Then bang it hit me. Unsure what had hit me first I opened my eyes to see a bloke as large as the woman who kissed me standing by my side. He looked very cross and was it seemed ready to punch me, again. It appeared that this was his wife and not Shirley at all. At that point a woman walked into the bar and from the sound of her voice I could tell she was my date.

Shirley was a redhead and actually quite sweet looking. Maybe a little more toned than I had expected, but still quite hot. I think she thought I looked a little weedy by comparison. Conversation did not flow easily and I felt like all the questions were aimed at me. Shirley then shocked me by stating at least I hadn’t got a police record. I told her she was wrong and I had got their greatest hits LP, but it was apparent she wasn’t joking. Then I discovered why. Shirley was in fact a policewoman and it seemed that before she came out she ran a full police check on me. She then proceeded to interrogate me to see if any of my friends, or family, were known to the police. I didn’t mention nan’s run in with the law over those illegal substances three years ago. I felt so uncomfortable and even Shirley’s joking comment about taking the handcuffs home at weekends did not improve things. It was all wrong. She looked pretty but the things she said did not match this. She swore, she smoked and generally behaved like an aggressive lout. The night didn’t improve when she challenged me to an arm wrestle and telling me if I won she would show me her blue thong. I don’t which of these two things were scaring me the most. It was now ten past eight, was that too early to suggest I was tired and needed an early night.....ALONE?

The force of Shirley’s stare was making me so uneasy. I tried the arm wrestle, but my hand went down even quicker than Shirley’s pint did. She was on her fifth pint already. Surely she wasn’t planning to drive home. I glanced at the car park to see if there was a police car there. Shirley noted this and told me a colleague had dropped her off and that I would be taking her home. I hoped she meant to her home. I was feeling so uncomfortable and refused to give too much detail away as I had no intention of meeting this lady again. Maybe I should just tell her that. I mean she couldn’t be interested in a feeble man like me. Things became even more uncomfortable when she moved in closer to me and decided to grip my leg firmly with her hand. I was starting to understand how Kenneth Williams felt with Hattie Jacques in the Carry On films now. At every opportunity I moved further to my right, but Shirley just followed until I fell off the seat completely. Instead of helping me up my date then slipped off her right shoe and proceeded to press her foot against my private parts area as I lay on the floor. I was being sexually harassed by a police woman. Many men might like this but I certainly didn’t. Quickly I got to my feet and suggested to Shirley that this wasn’t working. She accused me of being like Julian Clary, tipped the remainder of her pint over me and stormed out. I was so relieved the ordeal was over. I wiped the beer from my glasses and the waited for twenty minutes until I thought it was safe to go to my car.

Back at home I reflected on what had been a dreadful day with Villa losing and then all the problems in the pub. At least I was back in time for ‘Match of The Day’. Just as I sat down the phone rang. At first I let it ring, but in the end answered it, ready to put the phone down if it was Shirley. The familiar voice of Heather said, ‘Now Big Boy, where did we get to?’


Heather seemed to have a special voice that she used only for moments like this and I couldn’t believe how quickly she was seducing me. She must have started quite early in the evening because she seemed even more turned on than last time. She was even starting to distract me from Match of The Day and the appalling defending by Ugo Ehiogu. I was now naked on my couch and Heather was making noises that made Meg Ryan’s orgasm in Harry Met Sally sound like an episode of Mr. Bean. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alan Hansen could hear it. I wonder how he would summarise that. Then just at the vital moment I was stopped in my tracks by a very loud knock at my door. Who could that be at this time of night? Surely Shirley hadn’t followed me home. I tried to be quiet and pretend to be out but again a knock came at the door. I had to apologise to Heather, who seemed to be in a world of her own and quickly put my trousers back on. At this point I was unaware that they were inside out but this explained why the zip wouldn’t pull up. I looked through the kitchen window and to my horror it was a police car. Oh my god surely Shirley was going to arrest me for resisting seduction.


As I opened the door I was met by two well built policeman who made even me look shorter than average. At least Shirley wasn’t with them.


“Mr Jon Sadler?” enquired the PC on the left. I was shaking but just nodded for fear I was going to be arrested.


“Can we come in please, we are investigating the mysterious disappearance of Rebecca Holloway?” said the other policeman.

Next Week : Where is Becky?