My daughter, Melinda, likes to play bingo. I've pointed out that the chances of her winning enough to make up for her losses are negligible, but she just laughs at me. It's fun and a cheap night out, she tells me, and she has a point, I suppose. So far I've proved correct, although Melinda says the TV counts as a win. I say it doesn't as she didn't get any money - just the TV set.
Apparently they had a special door prize one week, donated by one of the local stores. (Probably because they couldn't sell it.) It was a big TV, really large. Sixty inch plasma screen smart TV. Worth big bucks, but few people would actually spend that much on a TV. Melinda didn't even tell me she'd won it until after it was delivered and installed. Then she invited me over bright and early the next morning to see her new TV.
I rolled up, bright and early as instructed, and found Melinda ensconced in front of the new TV with Becky, my granddaughter, and Madeline, the daughter of Sandy, my daughter's best friend.
After hugs and kisses all around I nodded towards Madeline.
"Sandy in hiding somewhere?" I asked whimsically. Sandy is a single parent and I've been carrying on a casual flirtation with her for the past couple of years. She doesn't exactly encourage me, but neither does she beat me off with a stick. If she was there I'd have expected her to be with the others, not hiding away.
"Sandy's at home," Melinda said with a grin. "She had a rare night to herself, with Madeline sleeping over. The girls wanted to play games on a big TV."
"Speaking of big TV's," I said, "what are you going to do with your old set. It's pretty large, and not really all that old."
"I'm glad you asked that question," came the quick reply and I mentally kicked myself. I had a feeling I'd just been had.
"I told Sandy that she could have it and that you'd be only too happy to deliver it. When suits you? The old set is just there and it's sort of in the way now."
In other words, now is a good time. I gave her a look to let her know she wasn't fooling anyone and said I'd take it along. Why didn't she call Sandy and let her know I was on the way?
"I'll do that," Melinda said, and then blushed when Madeline spoke up.
"You don't need to, Auntie Melinda. You called her as soon as your dad drove up to say he'd be there soon, remember."
Score one for the men, I thought, as I carried the TV out and slung it in the car. I'd be able to hold that little stunt over her head for a while.
I sounded the horn as soon as I arrived to let Sandy know I was there and fished the TV out and staggered inside. I didn't really have a chance to look at Sandy until after I'd set the TV down on her entertainment unit.
With the TV in place all that was required was for it to be plugged in and wired up. Sandy could do that, but I was willing to bet that she'd get it done by asking me to do it.
I finally turned to properly greet her and she was standing there, hair dishevelled, wearing some flannelette pyjamas, and looking like a sleepy child.
I waggled my eyebrows as I checked out her pyjamas and she laughed.
"Don't start on me," she said. "Madeline's not here and I was having a lie in and a really lazy morning."
"So I see," I said, running my eyes over her pyjamas again and smiling with evil intent.
Sandy grabbed a blanket that was lying on the couch and clutched it to her, smirking.
I sauntered closer and gave the blanket a gentle tug, and then a firmer one. Sandy was holding tight, her eyes laughing at me.
"You would seem to have ample protection," I said and then slid my arms around her waist. Not just around her waist, but under the waistband of her pyjamas and lightly cupped her bottom.
"Naughty girl," I said softly. "No nickers."
"Stop it," she hissed at me. "I was in bed."
"Well, it's a good thing you have that blanket," I observed, and she looked at me suspiciously.
"You'll still be covered," I said, hooking my thumbs under the waist band and pushing her pyjama bottoms down.
Sandy gave a squeak of horror and I could see her hands clutching the blanket even tighter. I was now stroking her bottom and she couldn't push me away without letting go of the blanket.
"Stop that," she hissed at me. "You stop that at once."
I trailed my hands across her bottom, moving towards the front, my fingertips just lightly touching her.
"No! Don't you dare," she wailed as my hands came perilously close to her mons.
I didn't, but I don't think that consoled her very much. I took the blanket she was clutching and just casually flipped it up and over her shoulder.
"The trouble with a blanket is that you can only hold one end," I murmured, while Sandy gave another squeak and let the blanket go, her hands diving down to cover herself.