An Easter Tail

Hey, I know its a bit early, but Summer is just around the corner.

Artykay63

*

I was not surprised when Bonnie told me about it.

Bonnie, né Burrows, and I had been married since we were both twenty five. We met at Admax Advertising Agency two years before that. We were both straight out of College: I had done my studies at Bournemouth, and she had been at Hornsey Art College. I wrote copy and she was a graphic designer.

I was taken by her beauty, and me, well, all I can say is that I must have had a way with words. By comparison to a lot of the guys in the office, I was no George Clooney. Think more Michael. J. Fox and you will get the picture. Bonnie ,well, if I said Halle Berry, that will pretty much tell you why I was blown away when she came and asked me to escort her to the company Picnic.

Suffice it to say that we got on like a house on fire. My silver tongue, as she had decided it was called, was put to good use in more ways than one. She liked my company and the way I treated her. The fact that I could look her in the eyes, without them wandering off in any other direction distinguished me from the other more "Alpha" males that pursued her around the office most days.

When we married, I surprised her by saying that I was happy to be hers alone, but if she felt the need for more sex than I could give her, I would understand. I knew she was constantly under siege from men who simply could not resist the temptation of her beauty. Hell, I knew what that was like, I couldn't resist her and I could not expect other people not to be attracted to her. They say that you get sick of caviar if you eat it every day. I can tell you that is bullshit. If you are getting the best of anything, then life doesn't get any better.

In the ten years we had been married she never ever took me up on my offer. I know for sure that is the case. How do I know? Well she told me so, and she also told me on every occasion that she was asked out, or somebody had cornered her at a company function. Every time she told me about their advances, I always repeated what I had said. If she wanted to play, that was up to her. Hell, I even had a slight stirring at the thought; no I am not some sort of wimp; I just like a good bit of porn like the next man.

Bonnie had kept her maiden name throughout her working career. There was a very good reason for this. My name. You see my name is Bob: Bob Boffs. I know, but hey I didn't choose it. Thing was, Bonnie decided that she could not go through working life being known as Bonnie Boffs, she saw how much stick I got over it; you know the sort of thing: Hi Frank; how many chicks did you boff over the weekend? That sort of shit.

I stayed with Admax, and things have been pretty good for me, I still write copy, but I also have a team of people who work for me. I kind of got pushed up the ladder as people came on board. I would say we are one of the best copy- writing teams in the city.

Bonnie stayed on at Admax for a year after we married, but in the end we both decided that it would be best for her to find a job elsewhere. I found it slightly distracting watching her, it took my mind of my work, and of course there was the perennial problem of the wolves circling. I knew she could handle it but it bugged me.

She went off to another agency and has been as successful as me. Recently her boss Hazel Watership retired and Hazel's replacement was recruited from somewhere in the West County. I think she told me it was Bristol.

Sorry! I hate to bog down the story with this history shit. It really breaks up the narrative. I always skip read it myself when I am reading a story. Let's cut to the chase, as they say.

So there we both were on Saturday morning, sharing breakfast on our yacht moored on the River Hamble

Yeah, I hear you say: in your dreams!

No really it is a yacht.

Well, if you can call a twenty-five-year-old Hunter 24-foot puddle-jumper a yacht. I know it cost less than a second-hand Nissan Micra, but we love it. It gives us a reason to get us out of London every weekend down to the Solent. A lot of time it never leaves the Hamble all weekend and I suppose we both think of it as a holiday cottage. It's called BB: no not after Bonnie Burrows, it stands for Boff's Boat. Kind of clever, doncha think?

'Frank, I need to tell you something.' Bonnie said.

I knew she did, I had watched her worrying all week. She was not the happy little skylark I married at all. She was waking up to too early, then finding ways to delay going to work. It made no sense: why was she suddenly so reluctant to go? She loved her job.

'My new boss is making inappropriate remarks,' she continued. 'He called me BB the other day. When I asked him what he meant, he said BB: Bonnie Burrows, or maybe Bridget Bardot, or could it be Ball Busting, or maybe the size of those lovelies. At this he touched my boobs.

'He really makes my skin crawl. I told him that if he made one more remark like that or touched me again, I would report him to H.R. Do you know what he replied?'

'Mmmm....let me guess. He would deny saying anything, and then mark you down at your next assessment.'

'Yeah, you're right. It's kind of a cliché isn't it?'

I knew she was tough enough to deal with this but I wanted to know why she wanted to bring it up with me.

Hey Bonnie, you have dealt with this shit before and worked it all out. What's different this time?'

'Yes, you're right Frank. But I worked with Hazel so well for the last couple of years before she retired, I had forgotten how much this macho sexist shit pisses me off. It's not as though he is even attractive. It would still be harassment even if I did fancy him, but if he was the last bloke on the earth I wouldn't take this guy to bed. He's got kind of large teeth a really ugly mouth.'

'What, like Goofy?'

'No! She laughed. 'More like Bugs Bunny, you know a slightly upturned top lip. She laughed again, 'Shit, I hadn't thought of that, His name is Peter Warren: that's really funny, Peter like Peter Rabbit, and Warren like a rabbit warren.'

I didn't laugh. 'Tell me Bonnie, has this guy got a small birthmark just on his hairline, over his left eye, which he tries to hide by brushing his hair forward over it?'

'How the hell did you know that? He tries to tell everyone it his beauty spot.'

'Your boss is Bunny Warren! That is amazing; I never ever expected to hear about him again.'

'Bunny Warren, why do you call him that? And you still need to tell me how you know him.'

'That was his nick-name at College; I met him when he was at Bournemouth Art College and I was studying English Literature and Language at the Technical College.

'If you want the full story you need to call Letitia Macgregor, you know, that little Redhead we see at the pub. She knows far more about how he got the name than I do: I only saw the outcome. Give her a ring on your mobile, and ask her and her husband down to the Trumpet for a meal this evening. It's worth paying for a meal out, the story is so funny.'

xxOxx

Letitia arrived with her husband in tow; I say that because that is exactly how their relationship worked, she chivvied him along. Bob Macgregor was a friendly, lumbering giant of a man, and she was a little ball of fire, only about five foot tall, but with enough energy to power a small town. I always thought seeing the two of them together was like watching the QE2 being pushed into dock by a tug.

She had always been ballsy, ever since I first met her in the Students Union Bar on the first Saturday night I was at the College. She was studying art at the Art College. We got on like a house on fire, but there was no real spark, so we just became very good friends. People that knew us said we had the same warped sense of humour.

After they had settled down at the table and we had all ordered, we sat drinking our aperitifs, Letitia, in her usual direct fashion came straight the point.

'Frank, I know you are better off nowadays, but even so, you have always been as tight as a duck's arse, so what's with the free dinner? My Mum always said there is no such thing as a free meal. What gives?'

'Bonnie has a new boss who is giving her grief. His name is Peter Warren.'

'Shit a brick! Bunny Warren: not that arsehole? Tell me more.'

'He is sexually harassing Bonnie.'

'Oh he is, is he? Come on Bonnie spill the beans.'

Bonnie recounted her story to Letitia, who nodded encouragingly as the story unfolded.

When Bonnie said that Peter had claimed that he was coming out of a difficult divorce, Letitia almost exploded.

'Lying Bastard! After we all left college, He moved to Bristol. Frank, do you remember Clare Hutchins? She ended up going out with him after I blew him out.'

'Yes, now you mention it I do. I never could understand what she saw in him. Hang on, didn't I hear that she married him? Not surprised she left him, if he behaves like this at work.'

'Yeah, except she didn't leave him; they are still married. She is teaching art in Bristol, at least, until she can get a job in London and move up there to be with him. She looks after their kids during the week and he goes back home at the weekends.

'I still speak to her on Facebook from time to time. From what you are saying maybe he got kicked out of his last job for the same reason.'

Bonnie couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man was a complete liar as well as an arsehole.

'How come you went out with him?' She asked.

'I was young, impressionable and perhaps a little naïve. Sir Galahad here,' she said taking my hand in hers,' Refused to take advantage of me so I ended up getting charmed by the richest guy in the class. He was not too bad looking, had money to spend on taking me out, and for a while it was an okay relationship; until I overheard a conversation.'

The prawn cocktails arrived then, so the conversation stopped for a while. Prawn cocktails? Listen when my Mum and Dad used to go out for a meal, they had prawn cocktails. What was good enough for them, is good enough for me. And I like the way they defrost the prawns at the Trumpet. The chef has a way with that microwave.

Letitia resumed her story.

'I was in the toilet in the Students Union bar one Saturday night, just before the end of the first year, when I heard that little tart Connie boasting to her friend. She was boasting how she and Peter Warren fucked like rabbits and were meeting up for a "quick shag", at the end-of-term party that she was having the following weekend. Her friend, I think it was Heather, although I can't be sure as I only heard them, asked her about me. I can remember the bitch's reply now.

'Letitia? You mean the poison dwarf? She's no problem, Peter's going to dump her. He says he's only hanging on in there until the end of the semester, as she's prepared to pose for him for free. She's going home early; she has to start a summer job so she won't even know.

'Peter, by the way, was a painter and I used to be his model.

'I was so bloody furious, I could hardly think. I didn't go back into the bar, I went home and cried myself to sleep. Peter didn't even notice I had gone.

'The following Sunday I was helping my Mum at the village fete , when I had the idea. I had been experimenting during the year with body-painting, and my Mum asked me if I could do some face-painting for the kids: you know the sort of thing: Tigers, kittens, dogs, pretty much what the kids wanted.

'One of the things we had been working on at Art College was complete body-painting. I think it was Suzuki and their sponsor Rebels, who had made a poster of a girl sitting on a racing bike. She looked like she was wearing racing leathers, but it was a superb body-paint job. We experimented with doing something similar. The problem we were having was that the colours ran if they got wet, so I developed a formula that made the paint stay on for longer. The first batch I made went wrong and it stayed on the skin for about a week. It was a good job I tested it on my side to check it was okay. It did fade in the end, but I could not wash it off.

'On the Monday, I went and found Spike in the refectory.

'You remember Spike, Frank?'

'I sure do, I replied. 'He specialised in every mind altering substance known to man. I didn't think you were into that.'

'I wasn't, you dick-head. I just needed some knock-out drops.

'My room-mate Mopsy hated Peter, so it wasn't difficult to get her to put them in Peter and Connie's bottle of wine. Actually it worked out perfectly, they took the bottle into her bedroom.

'I was able to slip into the party without being noticed. You remember how many people there were in the house that night don't you?'

'Yeah it was heaving. I never noticed you at all.'

Letitia continued. 'I was in and out in half-an-hour. I was on the train back home by 9.30, no one even knew I had been there. I only ever heard what happened after I left, but you actually witnessed it. Perhaps you better take over the story Frank.'

The steaks had arrived by then, so we chewed our way through those. I think they were beef but who knows? They were so well cooked that you could have put string through them and used them as flip flops, or thongs. No not that sort of thong! Ones you wear on your feet.

Bonnie was getting impatient. I always take a long time to eat my food. My Mum always said that you should chew each mouthful at least twenty times, the steaks were only half chewed by then, so I figured a bit more was needed. Okay, so I had their attention, and I was determined to make a meal out of it.

I took up the story.

'I was lying, passed out, on the floor in the lounge the next morning when I heard the scream. I will never forget the noise, the hangover I was nursing amplified it dramatically.

'I think you were right about it being Heather you overheard Connie talking to in the loo. It was she who got into the bedroom first.

'There was a deathly hush, and we all strained to hear the conversation that was going on.

'Heather came out looking very serious. Has anyone got a camera? She asked.

'She was evidently trying to keep a straight face. I handed her my phone and showed her how to use it to take a picture and she went back into the bedroom.

'It was only about a minute before she shot back out, and we heard Connie shout: come back here with that phone, you bitch.

'It was too late, the cat was out of the bag, or should I say the rabbit was out of the hat.

'I looked at the pictures she had taken.

'Sitting in the bed, with the bed-clothes pulled up to their chins were Peter and Cottontail Rabbit. They literally looked like Beatrix Potter's illustrations. Even their hair had been glued up to look like rabbit ears.

'The difference from the characters from the books, was that on their foreheads they each had a line of script.

'Peter Warren, for evidently that was who it was in the picture had:

'"I am a cheating bastard and I fucked Cottontail," written on his.

'Connie had, "I'm Cottontail and I steal boyfriends," on hers.

'I almost wet myself with laughter. I handed the phone around the others. By the time we had all had a good laugh our hangovers were forgotten. We all refused to leave until the two little bunnies surfaced.

'It took them two hours of scrubbing, with every possible combination of household cleaner you can think of, for them to realise that nothing was going to remove the paint. They were even convinced that it was permanent.

'It was a bit touch and go for a while, everyone suspected who must have done it, and Peter started taking about calling the police.

'I squashed that one. I said that I hadn't seen you and that you had left for home so how could you have done it? No one else had seen you either, and as I said, who was going to take them seriously? In the end they had to travel home as they were. They had to stay indoors for most of the holidays.'

Bob looked at his wife.

'Letitia, I can't believe you did that! You could have been arrested for drugging them. You would have had a criminal record.'

'Yes, big boy. Just remember: don't mess with me! Now what are we going to do about him this time?'

Bob was adamant that she was not to get involved.

Letitia was equally sure she was. She solemnly winked at Bonnie, while saying,

'Yes dear,' to Bob.

We followed the Black Forest Gateau dessert (Brake Brothers best), with an Irish coffee.

I saw Letitia slip a fold of paper into Bonnies hand as they kissed each other gooodbye on the cheek.

She linked arms with me as we escorted them to their car.

'You're not going to let the bastard get away with this, are you Frank?

'Oh by the way, you never heard about the other bit of body-art I did that night. I shaved their pubes off. I painted his dick like a carrot, and painted green carrot-top leaves onto his pubis. I also painted an enormous bunny tail on her arse, with an arrow pointing to her crack, saying "insert knob here."

'Listen Frank, if you need any help give me a call.'