The fifth and final instalment of Hypnosis and the Happy Hippy, though not the last you will hear of the rogue, Zeb. Sandra bites the bullet and Zeb is not exactly the perfect gentleman.
Will she succeed in getting the giggle zones removed or will Zeb trick her so he can turn her on any time he wants. Our heroine has no choice but to trust that he will do the right thing.
Please do leave a comment. Tell me what you liked and what you think could have been better. I'm always looking to improve the reader's experience.
Snow Goose (formerly Music Inspired by The Snow Goose) was the third studio album from Camel, released in 1975 on Decca.
Hergest Ridge was the second studio album by Mike Oldfield, released in 1974 on Virgin Records.
As usual, all characters are based on people who may not exist anywhere but my head. And if you are reading this and recognise yourself, it's not based on you.
***
On a cold January evening in 1978, Pam and I went for what should have been a quiet girls' night out. What we actually did, I would have expected from Pam, but it was way beyond my usual behaviour.
We met two wagon drivers who had parked up for the night, awaiting entry to the docks the following morning. Jimmy found one of my programmed erogenous zones, accidentally, but Pam couldn't rely on an excuse like that. Mac took Pam to his big rig while I ended up in Jimmy's. In these respective vehicles, we experienced equally unsatisfying fucks with total strangers who didn't even ask our names.
Following my less than spectacular shag, Pam rang a cab. Who turned up to collect us? Jay! The half hour between arriving home and going to bed was the longest and most uncomfortable thirty minutes I had ever spent in Jay's company. I made my excuses, involving feeling ill and having a headache, and slept.
Next morning, I told Jay I was feeling unwell, and I had a blinding headache, still; it wasn't such a big lie. Jay went off to his training scheme, after making me breakfast and serving it to me in bed. I did not deserve him.
After eating, I slept again. I slept until almost eleven. I awoke feeling much better and prepared for the day ahead. Looking out of the window, it was quite sunny for a late January but it looked cold. If I was going out, I needed to dress up warm.
I walked out into the crisp winter air wearing my hand-crocheted poncho over a heavy knitted jumper, itself covering a thick denim shirt, my legs protected by a pair of jeans over thick tights. My woolly beanie hat kept my head warm. Sexy, I was not. And where I was going, sexy was the last thing I wanted to look. I had even rooted out my least sexy, washed-out bra and cotton granny knickers.
The door between the shop fronts soon opened after I had pounded the wood.
"Right you," I said, "You are going to remove these unwanted erogenous zones." I pushed through to the hall. Zeb's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped in surprise.
***
"I said you'd be back," Zeb said in the hallway.
"Don't gloat. I haven't come for that."
"So you intimated." He was almost as pompous as Jay. "Go on up."
Zeb's flat soon warmed up once he'd lit the paraffin fire, and the newly acquired portable gas fire, allowing me to remove my hand-crocheted poncho and woolly hat. I left the heavy jumper on.
"That's new." I pointed at the gas fire, as Zeb returned from the kitchen.
"Yeah," he responded, "Well, not new. It's my old man's. He's had in the garage for years. Never uses it, so I cadged it off him."
"It's warm. I can feel the heat from here." I was sitting on the famous mattress-couch by now.
"Yeah. You'll be taking that jumper off soon."
I was feeling rather warm, but I found myself pulling the jumper tighter around me. I wanted to be as sexless as possible for this visit. The only way I could have been less sexy would have been if I were wearing a sanitary pad. Damn! I'd not thought of that. I was jerked from my ruminations by the sound of the kettle's whistle blowing down the hallway. Zeb sauntered out of the room. I realised just how cold this flat could get, when a cold draft whirled across my ankles. Jay and I were lucky to have a bedsit with actual central heating. As much as we hated the old woman who owned the place, she did provide some comforts.
He closed the door and soon I felt the heat becoming a little uncomfortable, so I turned down the gas fire. I flicked through Zeb's record collection and selected and Snowgoose.
"Don't mind if I put a record on?" I called through the door.
The door opened enough for Zeb's face to appear. "What was that, Pussy Cat?"
"I just said, you don't mind if I put a record on, do you?"
"Knock yourself out, kid."
I sat back down on Zeb's mattress-couch, that is, a mattress on the floor, against the wall to make a low-level settee. He returned with two steaming cups of tea, just as Andy Latimer's flute heralded the second track, bringing that ankle level draft with him.
"You warm then?" He placed a cup down next to me.
"Yes. It warmed up, so I turned the fire down."
"Warms up dead quick in here. The secondary glazing helps."
"The what?" I asked as he placed the cups on the floor.
He shoved the door closed and kicked a sausage shape draught excluder against it. Turning back, he said, "The plastic sheets on the windows. Keeps more heat in."
"Oh." I said.
"Take your woolly off, if you're warm," he offered.
"Erm. No. I'm okay."
"You'll need to loosen up a little if I'm going to relax you," he said. "Anyway, what's this about removing your fun spots?"
"Yes. I want them gone."
"Really? I thought you'd enjoy them."
"I do, but I just get so turned on I can't stop until I've fucked."
"What's the problem with that?"
"I want to have a choice!" Was I shouting? "I'm turning into a slut."
"Sandra Terry!" He was shocked. "I never thought I'd hear you use that word."
