(I do hope you realuise all the shipping forecast regions.)
*
Lorna is my weather girl as seen on TV. She is my star and I am besotted by her. And despite her getting loads of fan mail and proposals I am not put off. She does the shipping forecast too, from her Plymouth studio.
She has told me I am her one and only guy that she could take to the Faeroes, the Hebrides, the Northern Isles of Scotland and share a Rockall week with not a Sole in sight - it would be a Fair Isle indeed and even though we are both in our early Forties we could sail Forth maybe to Fastnet.
She's my weather girl complete, she certainly wiped me off my feet and when I reach the heights with her loving I am up there with Nelson at Trafalgar.
First time I saw her on the local TV weather spot I was a guy possessed , she looked gorgeous and appetising in that soft satin look tight skirt with creases that drive me wild, spreading across her perfectly shaped thighs.
And I have no shame at all to confess I was having regular Tyne and Forth's with my wild imaginings that I dreamed could never become reality.
But I worked at the studio too as an electrical fitter, and it seemed destiny fell on me like a shower of snowflakes that Lorna had forecast that morning. I'd left a wire unconnected on which she tripped coming through a corridor, fortunately it wasn't live but I was, enough to catch her in mid fall and get my first touch of Lorna reality.
I always remember her saying I was a 'naughty boy' and I should be more careful in the future, but I was so enraptured by her presence for real and not on a TV screen, the scent of her and her rich warm open smile I felt my Bailey was about to Bite, realising my hands were tucked neatly around her firm so shapely and heaven to touch hind, falling to my knees to suppress her fall, us both ending up sprawled like kids on the floor.
Feeling embarrassed I humbly apologised but Lorna said there was no need and, standing herself up again, swaying her hips as women do to adjust her rather disarranged skirt but inadvertently - as she bent her knees to rise up, treating me the most delightful peek up her skirt, the sort of thing that guys dream about, to get that magic glimpse of feminine underwear which is so absolutely arousing to the point which my lightning was starting to flash and the thunder erupt.
But steady boy, plenty of time later to relive the scene in your mind and enjoy the fantasy of what it would be like so see much more.
After she'd called me 'a naughty boy' she said 'no problem' and went on her way as if nothing had happened, but I noticed one thing that made my temperature rise, she looked back with that wonderful warm smile and suddenly I wanted to know all about her.