The alternate title for this was going to be 'Save a pussy to get some' but I figured that was too on the nose.
This is a story about a middle-aged teacher asking her neighbour's son and his friends to help find her lost cat. And then rewarding them in unexpected ways. There is a mild hint of nonconsent and reluctance in part of the story, but I assure you she ends up happy in the end.
I'm falling behind in my publishing and I'm pushing this story out to make up for it. As always, I'm looking for people to volunteer to proofread my stories to ensure they meet the quality this site's readers deserve. If you want to help, or are just looking to read a new story before anyone else, please get in touch.
Fairground Farrago
I was hanging around with Ian and Jerry, playing basketball with the hoop my dad had bolted to the side of the house. When I noticed Mrs Havisham walking down our drive. I let out a groan under my breath as she was my least favourite person in the world as well as my neighbour.
She was a religious education teacher and eight years ago, when I was ten, I had the misfortune to have her as my form tutor. My parents aren't at all religious and taught me how the bible and other good-books often contradict themselves. So when she started each day with a quote from the bible and a prayer. I rebelled and asked her. If the good-book was the word of god, why did it contradict itself?
That went down like a lead balloon, especially when I quoted some contradictions. She tried to give me detention, but I refused to accept it. So we went before the headmaster. She wanted me suspended, at the very least. But I explained I'd only asked a question and I wouldn't hold it against her if she didn't know the answer. I could see the headmaster trying hard not to grin as I said this. Mrs Havisham wasn't well liked by any of the other teachers.
Still, any crappy job she could legitimately make me do during that year was mine. And at the end of the year, when I got an awful report from her and only her, my parents ignored it.
I wondered what she was doing coming into our drive. Surely not to complain about the noise from the basketball again. I thought we'd settled that last summer. She'd come around to complain about the noise to my parents, but my dad cut her off. Saying they didn't complain about her playing table tennis or lawn badminton. He told her the grunts that she and her friends made while playing were positively pornographic.
You should have seen her face when he said that. It was priceless.
"Simon, have you seen my kitten Fluffy?" She asked.
It wasn't exactly a kitten. Fluffy must have been 8 months old.
"No, Miss Havisham." It's funny how you fall into old school habits even when you no longer go to school.
"You've not locked him in your garage, have you?"
"Of course not! Why would you even say that? I love animals."
"I don't know. Some young people today can be so casually cruel."
I'm saved from a response as my mum appears at the door.
"Hello Mrs Havisham. What can we do for you?"
"My kitten is missing, and I was just asking your son if he'd seen him."
"I've not seen Fluffy in days." mum confirms and then adds. "Boys, why don't you put down that silly ball and help our neighbour find her cat."
"Mum!" I whined and got a glare in reply. "Ok" I grumble and we follow the old lady back down our drive.
I say old lady, but she probably wasn't that old, I'd guess she might have been 50, even if she dressed like she was 80. Even today towards the end of August and during the school holidays she was wearing her usual tweed jacket and skirt. Me and my friends were just in sports vests and shorts, and we were hot and sweaty.
"Where should we start?" Ian asked.
"I don't think knocking on doors will work." I reply. "Most people will still be out at work."
"We could check out the neighbourhood for any blood stains on the road." Jerry puts in.
Causing Mrs Havisham to blanch. Jerry can be quite a dick at times, but he'd had as tough a time with her as I had. Only for different reasons.
"Or we could look in people's bins. That's what I'd do with a cat if I hit one."
"Come off it, Jerry. Lighten up." I might not like the woman, but I did like cats.
In the end we walked around most of the neighbourhood, calling out the cat's name and checking gardens where possible.
"How about the fairground?" I asked.
"Why the fairground? Anyway its shut, isn't it?" She asked.
There had been an accident and someone was hurt recently. When the place was inspected properly, they found lots of health and safety violations. From substandard maintenance on the rides to unsanitary toilets. And don't even ask about the food preparation. It had been shut pending prosecution, which was a shame as we'd been going there forever.
Although we rarely had the money to go on the rides, it was a great place for teenagers to hang out and look at girls. Hoping that one of us was brave enough to one day ask one of them out.
"I was thinking. With it closed the mice and pigeons would be all over it, hunting for scraps of stale popcorn and the like. Seems like an ideal hunting ground for a cat."
"I'm sure Fluffy doesn't do that sort of thing." 'Yeah right, I bet it never takes a shit either' I thought. "Anyway it's too far for him to go."
"Not really." Ian pipes up. "Cut past the garages, down the lane, and it's just across the field. A hundred yards at most. Unless you go by road. Then it's a long way."
She thought about it as we headed down the little lane to the 8 standalone brick garages that hardly anyone used.
Well, that's not strictly true. On one occasion when I was taking my usual shortcut back from the fair, I found a couple having sex in the back of a parked car there. I watched for several minutes before the woman saw me, and surprisingly she didn't seem to mind. Her lover did though when he saw me. He dived back into the front of the car and roared off. I'm sure it must be dangerous to drive with your trousers around your ankles.
We got to the garages and checked for the cat, and then we looked at the earth bank that was the boundary of the field. Generations of people had worn a bare patch exposing rocks that formed a ragged set of steps up the side. The problem was the ditch on the other side. It was filled with slimy mud and stank to high heaven if you were unfortunate enough to slip into it. Everyone I knew had marked their passage by coming home with mud up to their knees.
"Perhaps I should get the car?" She offered, seeing the bank.
"Why?" Jerry asked. "If the cat is out there, you might miss him coming back across the field." He scrambled up the bank. Pausing at the top and leaping off. The preferred method to miss the bog of perpetual stink, as we called it.
Ian went next, and I followed, pausing at the top to see if Mrs Havisham would follow.
Her first stumbling block is she's quite short, and the rocks are relatively far apart. I can hear the creak of the stitches of her skirt as she tries to lift her leg high enough to climb up. She glares up at me as if this is my fault and gestures I should move. I don't, why should I? If she's going to give up, then we can go home and resume our game.
Instead, she reaches down and surprises me by pulling up her skirt. Usually her skirts are a minimum of three inches below the knee. Now I can see her knees and lower thighs, and I'm shocked to find she actually has quite nice legs.
Where the hell had that idea come from? Thinking sexual thoughts about old Miss Havisham. God! I need to get a new girlfriend. The last one hadn't lasted long, even if she was the only girl I'd had sex with. And then only once.
Mrs Havisham started to climb with a bit more success this time. Her skirt was still a problem, but she was managing for the most part. One rock was a little higher than the rest and when she put her sensible brown leather shoe on it. It robbed her of her leverage, and she looked up at me for help. Hastily I took my eyes off her legs. From its current position I was almost certain, if I'd moved just a little, I could have seen up her skirt all the way to her knickers.
