“I cant get to Zion with a carnal mind.
But who wants Zion when I look at your behind.”
Steve Dixie and Ras Yeggman 1976 “Ja Make Her?” album.
© Groaner (Belize) Ltd and the executors of Baron Adelbert Gruner
CHAPTER 35 SAINT DAVIDS.
Doctor Thorneycroft Huxtable opened his eyes. It was the Welsh cottage they’d hired for a fortnight. He rolled on his side and slid an arm over Catherine Cusack. She was softly snoring, gorgeous, round and sexy, and she loved the boys and he loved her and they all loved each other and he slept.
“Come on lazy bones. What do you want for breakfast?” Catherine was wearing the T shirt and shorts from yesterday on the beach. She wasn’t a great one for bikini’s, said she was too fat, which was rubbish. Though perhaps she was too sexy. Her hips were wide and voluptuous. They held fat that made babies clever.1
Not like Grim’s girl friend Abigail.
“Well? You can have toast or cereal or I could do a proper fry up,”
“What do the others want?” asked Thorney
“Grim says he doesn’t mind and Abigail is asleep.”
“Oh, well. Whatever.”
“Toast it is then.”
A fry up had sounded better but dawn decisions were never his strong point. “You look wonderful.” Tight shorts showed off her hips, and large round thighs. The T shirt fell between her breasts down to her waist and out again to perfection. “How about coming back to bed?”
“I’m up now. Don’t be silly, there isn’t time. Come on now. Get dressed. Decide what we are doing today, and don’t forget, I have work to do.”
“OK.” Catherine was an editor for Oxford University Press. Specialising in English as a foreign language books.
“And please don’t be so grumpy to Abigail.” Catherine kissed him on the forehead “I think she and Grim are having problems starting a family.
It’s something she said. I think she wants to start a family rather badly and Grim wants to wait. Now hurry up. I’m doing breakfast now.”
“OK” Thorney looked out at the sunlit fields of Pembrokeshire. His penis was a bit drippy and he needed a shave and he found his dressing gown and sandals on the floor.
The cottage was an old barn converted to a holiday home. Down stairs was the lounge and kitchen. Upstairs in the roof space were two bedrooms separated by a passage past the central bathroom.
Catherine had already gone down the rough stone stairs (no health and safety here then) and Thorney wandered along when the bathroom door opened.
Abigail Crosby came out in a diaphanous wrap that should have been done up at the waist. “Oh hallo, you’re up as well then.” Her wrap fell open with nothing underneath. She was thin and childlike. Tiny breasts. Ribs and hip bone showing. The opposite of cuddly Catherine
“Um, hallo. Um, I was going to the bathroom.” If she was so ugly then why did Thorney want to protect her, kiss her. Take her to bed and hold her warm and tight.
“Oh I’m sorry.” She acted as though she had just realised, and pulled the wrap tight again. “Though you don’t seem that sad to see me.”
“What?” She was looking pointedly at his penis, even now growing under his dressing gown. “Um….”
But she had past him into her own room and closed the door.
The bloody woman probably thought he fancied her. God she was skinny. He didn’t want her at all. She probably thought she was fashionably slim.
Of course he preferred his wife. Voluptuous, self confident, built for love.
It was difficult to know
what Doctor Grimsby Roylot saw in Abigail. She wasn’t clever. She
talked vaguely of work as a shop girl or waitress in Banbury. Grim
once mentioned going to see her relatives on a council estate in
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