| Straight: Lusty Liaisons: "Fete" Accompli (1/5) |
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Now, young Dillon wasn’t aggressive by nature. But when in front of everybody, he deliberately toppled Julia’s stall, some may have thought otherwise. Without a word of warning he just appeared, hands under the stall and whoops! It was the time of the annual Cullington village fete. The venue was in the large vicarage garden overlooked by the Anglo Saxon church of St. Mary. But who would have thought all that was going on beneath Julia’s covered stall, now uncovered for all to plainly see. The young couple were just at the point of no return just to make things worse. And they thought they had all the privacy they needed for what they had in mind - but why under the stall? At an age when their hormones were driving them crazy, or was it the heat! Anything would do- they just had to get together no matter what, and Julia’s stall seemed the ideal place - who would have thought dick-head Dillon would have overturned it, or did he have an iota of what was going on - it did seem like the sort of thing he would do, especially as he fancied the jeans of young Sharon, the now embarrassed girl, legs wrapped around Jason and panting her climax. Red faces were everywhere but Julia soon bundled the young couple into the confines of her van where they could finish what they were doing. That’s if they had not lost the urge! Dillon did seem to have a very satisfied cruel expression about him. The day before, poor Julia Timothy, the chairperson of the Women’s Institute, slipped from a chair whilst putting up bunting. Jim the caretaker said he’d fixed it too, but one wonders seeing him gaping up Julia’s bellowing skirts as she landed knees high. Never mind, today she could relax behind her stall and watch the world go by. That was the plan but Dillon had other ideas. It was no joke. The look on the lad’s face was enough. He was angry, angry with Julia. The reverend Auberon Beasley, sampling one of Julia’s apple and cream delights at the time, the remnants of which were now plastered all over his charcoal grey suit, was angry too. “Now, Dillon that’s no way to treat your mother,” the reverend roared. Pretending not to have noticed the young couple in coitus. “She’s not my mother, she adopted me,” Dillon declared, plainly for all too hear, his eyes glued on Julia. “I’ve just found this letter which proves it.” He waved a piece of paper above his head: “You lied to me, I really thought you were my mum!” Everybody heard. Couldn’t help but he was yelling loud enough to alert the other side of the village! Friends and colleagues congregated nearby. Titling and tattling. Julia had always played so much on how she nearly died when Dillon was born. Auberon Beasley was lost for words. Dillon turned to face the man in the dog collar, snarling and pointing an accusative finger, his long brown hair hiding much of his face: “And you needn’t look so shocked. I know you are my dad. You a Christian man too, you must have broken at least three commandments.” Now silence reigned; no titling and no tatting. He was facing the accusing face of the much perplexed Dillon again, but managed to put on a nervous smile, gesticulating everybody to look around the stalls; telling them to |
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Well written