Mornington-By-Mere is a small country village lying in
the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the
rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate
box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn,
Windmills, a Schoolhouse, a River, a Mere and an Old Forge, and Rob Hunter
lived in the Old Forge with his wife Dorcas.
Rob arose very early on Sunday morning despite
entertaining a very voracious and energetic Solicitor the day before, she
slipped away well before first light having satisfied her insatiable appetite
and left him sleeping.
The first thing he did was to breakfast in order to
refuel after the previous evening’s excesses.
Next on the agenda was to strip the bed and launder
the lust-stained bedding, and as he loaded the machine and set the program to
wash his sins from the bed sheets, he harboured the futile wish that it could
be that easy to wash his sins away.
I went upstairs and remade the bed with fresh linen in
preparation of sullying them anew this time with his gorgeous wife Dorcas who
he was picking up from Shallowfield Station after lunch.
His exceptionally early start to the day enabled him
to complete all his chores with ease and after a long leisurely shower he left
for church.
He would often lunch at the pub after church
unfortunately he had to give it a miss as he was driving to pick up Dorcas that
afternoon which he thought was a great shame.
Not the picking up his wife part, he meant it was a
shame he was going to miss lunch with friends.
When he reached his front door, he found what was
clearly a bottle of something in one of those decorative bottle bags, standing
on the doorstep.
He picked it up and read the tag.
“Have a Merry Christmas, with love from a grateful
patient”.
He smiled to himself because she wasn’t thanking him
for his medical skills or bedside manner.
He went inside and made himself a rather boring
sandwich and was just drying his hands after washing up his lunch plate when
there was a knock at the door.
When he opened the door, he found Daisie Lewis on the
other side of it, holding a Christmas parcel.
“Happy Christmas” she said with a beaming smile.
“Hey! Happy Christmas” he responded, “come in”.
“Ok” she said still smiling broadly “but no funny
business”.
“No funny business” he agreed, and Daisie stepped
inside
“You didn’t have to get me a gift,” he said to her as
he took her coat, and she sat down on the sofa.
“Last Christmas my mum was drunk for ten days in a
row, we had no decorations, no Christmas dinner, no electricity and no joy in
my world”.
She said as tears were beginning to form in her eyes.
“This year, I have three jobs; I have a proper home, I
have someone to mother me, I have money in the bank and a boyfriend and it’s
all thanks to you”.
He tried to interrupt but Daisie continued
“If you hadn’t helped me, looked out for me, set me on
the right path I wouldn’t be here now having the best Christmas I’ve ever had,
I will always be grateful for that, and the other things of course” and she
blushed.
The “other things” she was referring to would have
been several sexual interludes that occurred between them, although that was
not the reason, he helped her and he did not intend it to happen, but it
happened, nonetheless.
Daisy stood up and gave him a big hug and an hour
later she left his house considerably moister than when she had entered it.
“So much for no funny business,” he thought.
While he was showering for the second time that day,
he thought how nice it was to get an early Christmas present and to give a gift
to her as well.
If he got a present from every recipient of his lust,
he would do very nicely and would need a considerably larger tree to put them
under.
As a result of Daisie’s Yuletide felicitations, he was
twenty minutes late leaving for the drive to Shallowfield.
He phoned to let Dorcas know he was running late,
though not the reason, but she said that was ok as the train was running behind
time anyway.
