DIARY OF A TEENAGE MILKMAN

“Good, you came back , you didn’t think I had forgotten your birthday tip did you ?” came a voice from the bed, several thoughts raced through my head, all accompanied with a large gulp of air, my mind went from “She’s d***k” to “She wants me” back to “she’s d***k” in quick succession. The d***k option winning easily, wishful thinking on the middle option was the stuff of pipedreams or more likely wet dreams for a boy my age. I had no idea what age the lady of the house might be but had previously surmised that as the daughter was at least ten years older than me; she would have to be in her early to mid-forties at least? By now my eyes were growing more accustomed to the light and I could now make out the shape of her as she lay on top of the bed, propped up on a couple of pillows, I could make out the trail of smoke from the lit cigarette which she was holding in her right hand, her left, gesturing me to come closer. I shuffled a few short steps closer, stopping at the foot of the bed, trying to look but equally not looking. “Put your bag on the chair and come closer, sit down” her right hand waving in the direction of a chair at the foot of the bed, her left patting the bed beside her. I took the moneybag off my shoulder, set it down on the chair and took another couple of steps closer to where she lay on the bed. “Come on, don’t be shy, I won’t bite you, not unless you want me to?”