All about Eve

Life on the sofa can be comforting at times. Happy memories can resurrect great joys from my past. Sometimes other parts of my anatomy are resurrected as well, letting me know I am not yet over the hill.

When the world was my bivalve mollusk and a quarter of a century was almost on me I already had two certificates to my name. One proved I was insane; my marriage certificate, the other proved I was getting better. It confirmed my single status.

To celebrate my freedom I entered another relationship. Five years of blissfully chaotic madness ensued. I enjoyed every minute.

The young lady in question was the absolute double of the four foot eleven inch destructively gorgeous midget Charlene Tilton, who played Lucy in Dallas. My lady had half an inch on her and mighty proud of the fact too. And she certainly was no ‘loosey’.

She did however have one unusual feature, her job. She was the ‘madam’ in a Sauna. Not one of these down market sleazy brothels that get so much attention these days. No, no sir. This was an up market sleazy brothel frequented by men who liked fancy dress. Not to mask their credentials you realize, the fancy dress included a wig. Imagine a gown and gavel and you’ve got the picture.

Teasing was her forte. And I don’t mean she made wool with a carding comb. She was a mistress of the understatement. Just a glimpse of stocking top or button popping cleavage was enough to tip the financial favour in her direction. Men are suckers for this type of show; particularly middle aged men; particularly middle aged men with a sofa. This I did not know then. Wisdom only comes with the sofa.

It was only a matter of time before hedonistic pursuits would spoil this wondrous affair. She came in the shape of a seventeen year old. I met said teenager at a party she was attending with her mother. I was showing more interest in the mother. The youngster decided she wanted the experience of an ‘older’ man. Who was I do deny opportunity when it came knocking. This was not a good move. My ‘madam’ was an astute inkling woman and could detect ‘essence of teenager’ at fifty paces.

Once again into the breach I went.

The teenager turned into a ‘stalker’ and I lost a very decent lady.

Dear readers, by now you must be getting a picture of the kind of complexities I have faced through life, the choices, dilemmas, the women. For me the shortest point between two distances is always greater than route 66.