It don’t mean a thing…
We’ve all been suffering from the heat in one way or another, headaches, temperatures etc. Most of us have kept it at bay by drinking about four litres of water a day and a cold shower before and after work. Mrs Sticker, seeing my distress, gave me a tip from her VSO days in Africa. Coca Cola. Not diet or flavoured but the full-on full sugar, high caffeine original recipe stuff. Half a litre seems to restore your electrolyte balance faster than anything.
Had the town centre beat today, which has the pleasant bonus of being the shortest beat (Even if you do get the most aggravation) and full of girls. We are talking about a lot of very shapely and achingly gorgeous well-displayed female flesh. So I’m an old fashioned heterosexual – so what? At least I’ve achieved my life’s ambition – to be a dirty old man. Yee-haw.
One thing that did put me off was the fact that a lot of young women simply don’t seem to know how to walk. By walk, I mean not just the bipedal process of putting one foot in front of each other whilst remaining upright, but the gentle, swaying gait that raises a man’s blood pressure (And other bits) pleasurably. I’ve seen some otherwise beautiful women walking almost like males, striding around without a hint of that gentle hip rotation that can make even a plain looking woman a closet sex goddess. Call me sexist if you like, but some women must really lose out in their search for a mate by suppressing this natural ability. That natural, gentle, samba like sway does evil things to the libido.
Even nicer is the occasions when they turn on the feminine charm to avoid a parking ticket. I know it’s all an act, but it’s quite flattering for an old warhorse like me to be given the full flirt treatment by a pretty girl young enough to be my daughter.
So long as they don’t make a habit of it, says Mrs Sticker.
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