By the middle of the month mum and Andrew were arguing again, she was off in a few weeks to do another 3 week cruise. But more importantly my school skirts didn't fit anymore. I had moved the buttons several times, but now I was reduced to wearing Lucy's old skirts. I mean me, in someone else's clothes! Even fat Gloria was sniggering at me, the fat ugly twat. Still, it gave me an excuse to bunk off school now and then.
Martin and I agreed on our next step, and then we went to see his mum and dad.
Mrs Hayward finally came down off the ceiling after an hour of screaming her head off. Martin and I had told her we wanted to live together. She panted, blew, and then she was jumping up and down accusing me of getting pregnant on purpose. Of course what didn't help was her husband telling her we could have Granny's flat.
So a few days later there we were standing outside Granny's flat. Oh, Granny was dead by the way. Now I wasn't really struck on the idea. I mean living in some old dear's flat. Surely we should fumigate it first or something? Anyway the rain was cold and soaking right through me. Lady Muck had her umbrella up and she was not going to share it with me. So we trudged up the stairs above the shop and into the flat.
All of a sudden things didn't seem as bad, the fucking flat was enormous! 3 bedrooms all bloody bigger than mine at home, a lounge that you could get lost in, a kitchen with brand new stuff like cookers and shit, and in the bathroom was one of those massive round baths with water jet thingy's.
"Mum only had it decorated last year," Mrs Hayward said with a forlorn sigh.
"Fu, I mean how nice, leather recliners," I said, dropping into one and yanking on the lever.
"Please be careful, they are only 6 months old," she snapped at me.
Now the décor was stylish and quite modern, considering the place was lived in by an old lady. I would have loved to have met her. I bet she was a real goer when she was young.
"That will have to go. I never understood why mum liked it."
I looked at the big painting on the wall, a bloke sat on a chair completely naked with his dick and balls hanging out!
"I quite like it," I mumbled.
"Why doesn't that surprise me," Lady Muck said under her breath.
Martin went to the kitchen with his mum. I think she was a little miffed with me when she offered to show me how everything worked, and I said Martin should learn it first. Wallace, Martin's dad, explained how the flat used to be two flats above the two shops, and his mother in law bought both, and then had them knocked into one. Now the dirty old sod was trying to look up my skirt when he thought I wasn't looking. He would look in my direction and scratch his head, sort of covering his eyes. I bet he didn't get any at home, I bet Martin really was delivered by a stork! I bet they had sex in the dark, probably fully dressed, with Mrs Hayward with her eyes shut tight and a grimace on her face, just telling him to hurry up, and stop panting so.
"I think the lever has jammed. Can you help me get up?" I asked him.
He stood over me holding both my hands as I wriggled forward. Of course my skirt decided it was going to stay put. I spread my legs either side of the foot rest, knowing the old git was getting an eyeful of my panties. I struggled for a few seconds, and as I looked up into his eyes he was staring straight between my legs! Mrs Hayward appeared just as he was preparing to pull me up. She stood with a shocked look on her face, seeing what her husband couldn't get his eyes off.
He pulled me to my feet, and I straightened my skirt. I got a little smile from the red faced Wallace. I smiled back and went to find Martin. As I walked past Mrs Hayward she gave me one hell of a glare. I just smiled, like you do. She started hissing at her husband in an angry whisper. Fucking hell was he in for it later!
Well we moved in, and naturally we had a small party, we invited about 20 in all, but I think just after someone called the police at 4 am, the number was more like 60. Anyway things settled down after that, and I really was quite good at playing the pregnant housewife. I had the meals all figured out, fish and chips one night, an Indian another, a Chinese another, then a pizza, and so on, well we had takeaways all round our flat, so what was the point in cooking? Mum came round to help out now and then with cleaning and things, and on one of her visits she told me she was off on her cruise again.
Now Mr Hayward would turn up too from time to time. But the dirty old man usually called when Martin was doing his evening job. He would stand behind me watching me when I made him drinks, I could feel his eyes all over me. I felt quite safe, I think he was really too scared to try anything, and not only that, but he was sort of useful to me.
"Could you clean the cooker for me? We had a pizza last night and some of the topping dropped in the oven."
He was a little reluctant at first, until I sat down and crossed my legs. He must have worked out that he could take a sneaky peek up my skirt, if he knelt down at the oven. I sat there reading a magazine as he scrubbed. He had one eye on the cooker and the other up my skirt! I don't think it bothered him much that I was 6 months pregnant and I felt like a bloody whale!
"Is this to your approval?" he mumbled.
The way he said it sounded a little odd. I just looked at his red face. I peered into the oven.
"I think you've missed a bit," I said.
Off he went, scrubbing again.
"I, do a lot of this at home. Sometimes Audrey makes me do it again, if, if it is not to her satisfaction."
"She really is a bitch isn't she?" Now I wasn't supposed to say that, I was just thinking it, and it came out. He stopped scrubbing for a few seconds, and then carried on again.
"She's going to be mad, when I get home late," he mumbled into the oven.
The way he was saying things really was making me wonder.
"Martin said she hit you a few times, he heard it."
Wallace had stopped scrubbing now, because he had banged his head. When he appeared from the cooker his face was very red, and his bald head had beads of sweat on the top.
"What else does he say?" he asked faintly, as his fingers toyed with the cloth.
"Not much else, just that she hits you."
"She loves me," he said, standing up and moving to the sink.
"Well I wouldn't hit anyone I loved, and bitch at them like she does," I said, closing my magazine.
He was still staring into the sink, not doing anything, just staring.
"Sorry, you had better go, I've made you late already. You must think I'm as bad as her?"
"You asked me to clean the cooker, and I did," he stated, and then turned round facing me, "if you want me to do anything else, tell me to do it. Gina, I don't mind her, hitting me. She likes it, and so, um, do I."
He was fiddling with the cloth again so fast I thought his bloody fingers would tangle up! I just stared at him, trying to get my head round what he was telling me, and to work out just why he had a lump in his trousers.
"That is pretty disgusting. Do you think I want to see that?"
"Sorry, I had better go," he whimpered, with his head bowed down.
"Maybe I should tell her what you are doing. You come round here when Martin is out and ogle me. You looked up my skirt when you cleaned my cooker. Would that turn you on then, when she beats the crap out of you?"
