Caught in the Act

Obviously, the wardrobe was out of the question. That would be the first place anyone would look; either that or under the bed. I wasn’t going out of the window either. I remember the last time that happened, out of a student hall of residence window; naked and into the snow. I wasn’t going to do that again… ever. No matter how big the boyfriend and his rugby team-mates… well, maybe…..

Now, though, she was running around the bedroom, half-dressed in various bits of clothing and gathering up all of mine in her hands, whilst a stream of some of the filthiest swearwords I’d ever heard – and I’ve worked in the building trade – poured from her mouth.

Meanwhile, her husband’s car was just sitting on the drive with the engine still running.

‘He’s probably just listening to the end of a song. He does that,’ Johanna inserted into her stream of conscious swearing marathon. ‘Bastard,’ she added just to keep the swearword count up near 100%.

I pulled my trousers free, from where she was clutching them against her one naked breast, whilst trying to pull her bra back on over the other. I felt rather wistful for a moment, contemplating those breasts I’d got so close to, but were now slipping further from my reach.

‘What sort of music does he listen to?’

‘What?’ Jo stopped her swearing tirade, her knickers at half-mast. ‘I dunno… the usual stuff…. Why?’

‘Well…,’ I said, trying to untangle the legs of my trousers. ‘If he likes progressive rock or something like that, those songs go on forever, but classic Motown… well, you’re looking at around three minutes per song.’

Jo glared. ‘What the fu…!’

I thought about pointing out she’d got her knickers on wrong: one leg down a leg hole and the other through the waist, which was why her current batch of swearwords was directed at the fact she was finding it impossible to get the knickers further than halfway up her thigh.

Those thighs….

‘Hurry!’ I yelled at myself.

Then I heard the car door slam.

Jo found a untapped reserve of swearwords I last heard when a chippie had sliced his thumb off on a building site I was working on.

At least I’ve got my trousers on, though, I thought to myself, as I wondered what would happen next….