Even now Plum mostly lived there. Leaf, a reasonably successful musician was as he said, like his name, still blowing in the wind. Daisy met him a few times a year and suspected he and her mum did the ex-with-benefits meetups slightly more often. She chose not to ask. Her mum could be a bit too graphic at times. Enough to scar you for life. After all, who needed to know just how her dad turned her mum on? When Plum had started going on about erogenous zones, ice cubes and pressure points, Daisy zoned out. It was bad enough seeing her mum’s peek-a-boo scanties on the washing line. She didn’t want or need any more information.
Unless it was for her column of course, but nobody knew about that except the editor of the paper and herself. Sexpert Sadie, the lady with all the answers. Except, it seemed, with regards to her own sex life.
She had to be very careful in some of her replies in case anyone recognised them as similar to something they had said or done which she knew about. It was a pity because some things she’d been told about were doozies. The cock ring someone put in the freezer before using it and getting ice burns just where you didn’t want them, or the time someone got caught out having sex in a hut they thought was derelict and turned out to be used by the local coalman for storage. They’d been locked in behind two dozen full coal bags. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except the married couple had been trying to rejuvenate a marriage. Which was the marriage of only one of them. She could have achieved more than one week’s column about the ecstasy and pitfalls of that.
The joys of having a sideline you didn’t tell anyone about.
“Anyway, I don’t need bailing out, just picking up,” Plum went on robustly. “Just at the local nick, as ever. They are getting a bit too zealous these days. And some of them are hardly old enough to be my grandkids. That is, they would be if I had any.”
Daisy ignored that. She’d have had to have been very precocious for offspring old enough to be policemen to be realistic.
“Get real, Mum.”
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About the Author
After 30 plus years in Scotland, Raven now lives near the east Yorkshire coast, with her long-suffering husband, who is used to rescuing the dinner, when she gets immersed in her writing, keeping her coffee pot warm and making sure the wine is chilled.
With a new home to decorate and a garden to plan, she’s never short of things to do, but writing is always at the top of her list.
Her other hobbies include walking along the coast and spotting the wildlife, reading, researching, cros stitch and trying not to drop stitches as she endeavours to knit.
Being left-handed, and knitting right-handed, that’s not always easy.
Raven loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.totallybound.com
Love by the Stroke of Midnight Page 11