A/N: Just a moment to thank everyone for liking, reading and following. Apparently, my stats are booming and the reason is all o’ y’all, my lovelies😽 Enjoy this next chapter an’ keep my stats booming…
Luv sayin that, btw😎 Spoilers: Troy AKA the jerk who lives with Ina an’ her mum, gets his arse kicked by the daring rock star😋

Wow! Ya look spectacular! ” Ina cooed, as the smartly dressed man checked himself out in the mirror in her bedroom. She’d offered to let him try on some suits for the date since all he owned were leather jackets, leather pants and black clothes that she’d only seen cat burglars wear! “I look ridiculous! An’ this blazer’s too itchy! Might I ask who owned this shitty suit? ” the unimpressed rock star enquired, fidgeting with his sleeves as he spoke. “It was my dad’s.” she replied, her voice just a whisper. “Oh…sorry…actually, I think it looks pretty good…it’s, spectacular! ” he corrected himself, noticing a tear roll down his hurt manager’s cheek. “Here. Try this on.” she ordered, regaining her composure as she handed him a purple tie. Her mum passed by with the laundry as Ina stood tippytoes to help him with his tie. “He looks like a proper gentlemen. Less like the weirdo from yer posters, love.” the equally impressed woman exclaimed, looking him over as she peeked inside the room. “What d’you know bout proper gentlemen, eh, mum? You’ve only dated proper arseholes! ” Ina retorted, coldly. The hurt woman said nothing, instead pressing down the pile of dirty clothes in the hamper before continuing on her way. “Ya know, ya shouldn’t talk to yer mum like that.” he reprimanded her, completing his look as he wore the cufflinks she’d placed on the dressing table. “Yer lucky, ya even have yer mum around.” she heard him mutter. “I don’t mean to….but, I tell ya, she’s got the worst taste in men! I just care bout er, I guess. Anyway….tell me bout yer mum.” the journalist in her came to life, as she began to enquire curiously. “She was the best person. I adored er! In fact, she would’ve loved Sylvie….probably would have given me a whack behind my head and put me in my place if I’d dared divorce er! She an’ my dad argued a lot. He was a drunk, he hit her a lot…hit me too…an’ one day, he hit er so hard, he killed er! I ran away from home an’ I never looked back….” he recounted in a sombre manner, but was interrupted as Troy announced his arrival with a loud burp. They prepared to leave, since she wanted to avoid a conversation with the loathsome man. “Wish I could’ve asked yer boyfriend to stay o’er for dinner….but, I’ve eaten it all! ” he mocked, as she rolled her eyes at him. “Did ya wipe out an entire six pack while ya were at it too? ” she muttered, noticing his bloodshot eyes. “Ok, smart arse….Try to use protection, eh? ” he jeered in a tone as if indicating that she was a trollop, before sneering at the rock star. “Get yer mind outta the gutter, ya arsehole! ” she cried out, angrily. “Don’t turn yer back on me, young lady! I’m speakin to ya an’ I deserve respect, ya hear?! I’m yer dad! ” he yelled drunkenly, before catching hold of her hand. “Yer not my dad! Yer just a soddin drunk who hurts mum when I’m not around! Don’t think I haven’t noticed her scars an’ bruises. Now, let go o’ my hand! ” she ordered, struggling against his tightening grip. “Let her go, or else…” the concerned rock star came to her aid. He let go, leaving a bruise on her wrist, before turning on him. “How dare ya?! Threatening me in my own house?! ” Troy growled. “Ya know, I was too afraid to hit my dad…but, I think I can muster up the courage to punch yer daylights out! ” the annoyed rock star threatened, swinging at the cussing man with all his might. He landed a hard one on the side of his face and Ina’s mum (who’d arrived on hearing the commotion) watched in horror as the unconscious man slumped against the wall. She stood still and Ina swore she saw a hint of a smile on her mum’s face. “An’ for the record, it’s not yer house. It’s my dad’s! ” Ina corrected, kicking him one last time in the ribs.
“Good shot! ” she praised him, as she hurried outside. He followed her with an ice pack pressed against his aching knuckles. “Well, I learnt from the best! ” he bragged, referring to Sylvia.



He’d just returned from the tour. His young manager had headed home for the night, while he sat alone on his bed, carefully tuning his guitar. He examined it, standing it up next to the messy bedside table which was strewn with sheets and sheets of music.  He reached in for a nighttime snack- rummaging through the open packet of crisps lying next to him on the bed. He was about to bite in, when he heard a knock on the door.
“Thought I spotted yer bus.” Sylvia exclaimed, grinning at him as he opened the door. “Wanna hop on for a snack? ” he invited, happy to see her familiar face. “Oh…I wanna hop on for more than just a snack!” she replied lustfully, before lunging at him and kissing him passionately. He struggled to breathe as she deepened the kiss, while she struggled with the zipper of his jacket. She slammed the bedroom door behind them. All that could be heard was the unzipping of clothes which were then tossed aside, the crash of the newly strung guitar as they bumped into it, and the crunching of crisps (he’d forgotten to put the packet aside) as they rolled about in bed, kissing, writhing and moaning with pleasure.
“Ya really need to clean up in ere if ya expect me to come ere more often. Those bloody crisps kept diggin into my back! ” she complained after their night of passion, before teasingly tossing the crumpled empty packet at the hickey covered rock star. She was buttoning up her blouse and preparing to leave when he gathered up the courage to ask- “Sylvie…would ya like to have dinner with me? ” “Dinner? Didn’t we just have dessert? ” she replied cheekily, chuckling at her own lame joke. She stopped, when she noticed his serious expression. “It’s just that…I’d like to take ya out to a proper dinner, ya know? Yer always complainin bout how he’s always on the phone whenever yer out at a restaurant.” he insisted. She was silent  ” Remember the time he took ya out to that sushi bar on Valentine’s day an’ ya didn’t realize he was actually meetin a bunch o’ Japanese businessmen for dinner there until ya got there….” he began to remind. “…An’ I found myself smack dab in the middle o’ a bloody business meeting in the middle o’ Nippon Kitchen….worst dinner ever! ” she continued, frowning at the memory. She felt a smile creep on her face as she felt his hand squeeze hers and she remembered the night she’d confided in him about it and he’d been her shoulder to cry on. “Ohwhat the hell! I’ll do it! Tomorrow night, 8 pm. At Cail Bruich…we haven’t been there in a long time……an’ don’t be late! ” she finally agreed, turning back to look at him, before he took her by surprise- pulling her back down on the bed beside him! “Yer a real insistent man, ya know that? ” she whispered teasingly, resting her head on the pillow as she faced him,  running her fingers through his hair as she spoke. “Seconds, m’lady? ” he whispered seductively, before leaning in to kiss her and unbutton her blouse. She squealed with laughter, letting herself sink into the soft mattress without a care in the world, as the romantic rock star showered every part of her with ticklish, pleasurable kisses.


Suddenly there was a knock on the door. A lanky policeman with a friendly face greeted Ina as she opened the door. “Jesse? ” the rock star exclaimed in disbelief from behind her on recognising his buddy, once the man of law had pulled down the hood of his macintosh as the rain slowly subsided. “That’s Inspector Holmes to ya, ol boy! ” he corrected, rather boastfully. “A real copper….or, ya know…A stripper? ” he enquired teasingly, knowing what his womanizing friend was capable of! “A real one. Although ….. Seamus strips at The Tunnel now. He’s quite good at it too….I’ve heard. He’s quite a hit during Christmas when he works it as Bad Santa! ” Inspector Holmes recounted. “That’s hard to imagine…since he was quite a poor dancer! ” the wide eyed rock star exclaimed, before chuckling amusingly. “None o’ that stuff for me. I’m a family man now. P.S. My daughter, Diana’s a big fan o’ yers. D’you mind…? ” the handsome inspector revealed (much to an infatuated Ina’s disappointment!), before tearing out a page from his notepad. “Sure! Anythin for an ol mate! ” the joyful rock star declared, before willingly and proudly inscribing his signature and a special message for Diana on it. “So, ya both waitin it out ere, eh? ” he asked, satisfyingly folding up the autographed paper and keeping it away safely in his pocket. “Aye…In fact, we were just talkin bout Mrs. Fletcher….” the nosy journo interrupted, desperate for more info from Jesse who knew her well too. “Oh! Mrs. Fletcher….Ya mean, Sylvia? If I may say so, ya lost out on a great girl, mate! I wonder why ya ever let er go….” the inspector began to ramble, just as Ina had hoped! “Maybe, cuz she married my enemy, Tom the twat! ” the annoyed rock star reminded, hurting at the memory. “Well, she didn’t marry im willingly…” Inspector Holmes interrupted him. “What d’you mean? ” the clueless rock star enquired. “She didn’t tell ya, eh? She waited for ya to return, but ya didn’t. That one gig probably changed both yer lives! While ya were away playin gig after gig, her home was in danger o’ bein usurped by those snakes! Anyway, Tom forged a bunch o’ papers claiming that the mansion belonged to his family an’ forced er to marry im if she wanted to keep the house. She loathed ya for not replying to the millions o’ letters she sent askin for help….but no-one can blame ya, right? I assured er that they probably got lost in all yer fan mail, eh? ” he narrated, before looking towards him for confirmation about the letters. He was silent, before replying in the negative. “I got her letters….but, I just couldn’t leave, Jesse! I…I…had all those concerts, mate! ” he defended himself. His friend was shocked to hear the truth. “Ya didn’t deserve er! In fact, I don’t think I wanna be friends with someone who’s so selfish that he’d put his needs before his loved ones! By the way, I was gonna let this slide, cuz yer my mate an’ all….but, ere’s a ticket for that broken taillight…..mate. Better pay it up quickly.” he muttered through clenched teeth, tearing out a page from his notepad and handed it to him, before heading back to his car, nodding his head in disappointment along the way.
“I hope yer happy. Ya got yer story! ” the ashamed rock star muttered, glugging down his umpteenth beer, as he sat on the couch and looked down at the floor with dejected eyes that were slowly tearing up. “Ya can still change things! Get er back! That’s why I suggested that ya two grab a bite together…to talk. That’s all it takes! Talk it out, apologise, tell er yer true feelings for er! Don’t hide anythin! Confess yer true feelins for er. Maybe, she’ll take ya back! ” the hopeful girl suggested. “Aye…that is, if she still loves me…an’ I don’t think it’s possible to love someone as stupid an’ selfish as me! Someone who’s so blind that he was unable to see her true love. I let er marry that rich twat! ” he argued, not looking up from the floor as he spoke. “Just give it a try, kay? ” she whispered, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.


“So…did ya both drift apart?” Ina asked, intent on knowing more about their love story. “No. She cheated on me.” he replied gloomily (and to Ina’s disbelief), before continuing further:
” The mail’s ere, love! ” she exclaimed enthusiastically, bursting into the kitchen one morning with a bundle o’ letters and packages wrapped in brown paper. “Oooh…Shakespeare, eh? Doin a bit o’ light readin? ” I asked, snatchin and openin up a package from her hands, revealin a paperback copy o’ ‘Shakespeare’s sonnets’. I flipped through the book, before a fascinating one caught my eye, an’ before she could stop me, I was teasingly recitin-
Who is Silvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness.
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness;
And, being helped, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling;
To her let us garlands bring!

“I’m gonna find a poem with yer name in ere too, ya know! ” she exclaimed with a blush, as she clamped a palm o’er my mouth an’ snatched away her precious book. “Besides, there’s somethin far more important in ere…for ya! ” she continued, before tearing open an envelope and reading enthusiastically from it. I almost choked on my cereal as I heard the sentence- Opening act for Lynyrd Skynyrd at The Hammersmith Apollo.
“Love, I’m so happy for ya! ” she exclaimed. “An’ this is yer way o’ showin me yer happiness? Get that eyeliner away from me….quit it! ” I ordered, as she forcibly sat me down in front o’ the dressing table later . “This is what all the great rock stars wear, love! Ya need a makeover. Out with the borin silk shirts an’ in with the leather jackets! ” my stylish wife interrupted, ordering me to sit still as she added her finishing touches… to make me look more like Ozzy Osbourne!
“It came as a shock to me when those divorce papers arrived, an’ then the news that she’d married that twat! I couldn’t believe she’d do that to me! Sure, I’d been away from her all those years, but she understood that this was my career. In fact, she’d promised me she’d wait for me….That even though, she was hesitant to leave her home in Scotland to globe trot with me, she’d wait for me….But, eventually I forgave er that night. The night I realised, I still loved er.” he finished narrating, leaving Ina teary eyed towards the end.


A/N: Sylvia’s quite the bad-ass, as you’ll find out in this next chapter:
He continued reminiscently, finally sharing his most cherished memories of their times together:
She was standing bare feet on the manicured lawns, hanging up laundry on the clothesline, struggling as the clothes billowed in the wind. She let out a soft chuckle as I came up behind her, holding her by the waist and nuzzling the ticklish region on her neck. “Ya do know we’ve got a dryer, right? ” I reminded teasingly, tucking in locks of her unruly, wind tussled hair as she turned around to face me. That was Sylvie for ya! Doin everythin the ol fashioned way! She may’ve been rich, but she sure preferred to act like a pauper! “Yer a sight for sore eyes, ya know that? ” she whispered, standing tippy-toes to plant a kiss on the corner o’ my mouth. “Speakin o’ sore eyes …look who’s makin their way up the hill to talk ya into sellin our home. Twat Sr….an’ his son, Twat Jr! ” I exclaimed, turning her attention towards the familiar shiny Rolls Royce that made its way up the winding road and finally parked itself in front o’ us and its occupants- the dastardly duo o’ Fletcher Sr and Tommy the twat- stepped out. “I told ya…I’m not interested! ” an irate Sylvie stood her ground, once they’d offered her an even large amount of money for the house. “I’m sorry…maybe the sum’s too paltry, huh? Though, I wouldn’t be so picky.Yer, uh, husband here, who, uh, prides himself on bein a musician, hardly makes any money! ” Fletcher Sr insulted, looking me up and down with a haughty look. “Ya could do so much better! ” Tommy the twat continued with a smug grin. “Ok, that does it! ” I was taken aback, as she roared defensively, before launching herself at the twat! He fell back into the white linen an’ they wrestled for quite a while. She landed most o’the punches to the sorry bastard! “Arentcha gonna do anythin?! Lettin yer wife fight for ya, coward! ” his offensive father cried out in horror, while sneering at me. “Yer right…I should probably say somethin, eh? Hit him harder, love! ” I egged on my brave Sylvie. I finally pulled her off im, since she seemed to be outta breath. We watched as the father-son duo tucked tail an’ ran to the safety o’ their air conditioned car. “The Rocky franchise. Initially, I watched the movies cuz o’ the chemistry between Adrian an’ Rocky…but, ya tend to pick up a few moves now an’ then! ” she confessed, explaining her fighting prowess on noticing my stunned expression. “Oh! Well….it really turned me on! ” I whispered saucily, before pulling her closer and leaning in for a snog.


A/N: And the love story continues…..
“She was the woman who introduced me to chick flicks. Every Sunday night, she’d drag me off to the drive- in theatre to watch em. She enjoyed the chemistry between the actors, while I enjoyed the feel o’ popcorn in my mouth…an’ also, the soundtrack! I only watched Singles cuz o’ its soundtrack. Here. My most prized possession. ” he reminisced, before handing her a cassette which he carefully removed from its hiding place. “The soundtrack o’ Titanic? ” she asked, looking up at him in surprise. “I’ll always remember the day Sylvia gifted it to me.” he recounted, while she listened intently:
She looked beautiful, dressed only in one o’ my ACDC tees, as she sultrily walked into the living room. I’d settled at the piano, playing a few tunes and figuring out the notes and chords to a song which I hoped was gonna be my ticket into the music industry. Still a struggling musician, waiting for my big break, I was stuck an’ frustrated, but I lit up when she diverted my attention as she made herself comfy on my lap, straddling me an’ wrapping her arms around my neck before planting a kiss on my lips. “Yer up early. I was hoping we’d cuddle some more.” she whispered, seductively. “Cuddlin can wait, love. This is my career.” I replied, tenderly pushing her ruffled hair off her face, revealing more o’ her beautiful face, and the hickeys on her neck. “Fine. But, every hard worker deserves a break.” she whispered, as she made her way to the music player near the couch , pulling me along. I followed her hesitantly, watching as she rummaged through her jeans which she’d tossed on the couch the night before, in a fit o’ passion. She pulled out the cassette, popping it into the player. “A lil anniversary gift, love.” she whispered, moving closer as Celine Dion’s voice wafted out. “Happy tenth anniversary, love.” I greeted, wrapping my arms around her waist as we slow-danced around the living room. I felt the need to rack my mind for lyrics, to strum till my fingers bled just to find the right notes melt away when I was with her.
“See that hill o’er there? ” he asked, pausing to pull the curtains aside once the rain had stopped, gesturing past the little houses and green meadows at the foot of a large steep hill. “Yeah? ” she replied, anxious to hear more. “An’ see that fancy mansion atop it? With the picket fence an’ rose garden? That was our home. ” he revealed, motioning to the mansion atop the misty hill. “Ya mean the Fletcher mansion? Ya don’t mean to say ya lived there? ” she enquired, cocking her head in confusion. “Aye! 10 years ago it used to be our home. Sylvie an’ I moved in there after our wedding. It was her granddad’s mansion an’ he’d left it to er in his will. Of course, that was before that greedy twat Fletcher an’ his son took it from us! ” he recounted in anger. “What d’you mean…took it from y’all? ” a confused Ina asked, keen to know more.


A/N: Hard to believe that the reckless rock star was once a sweet, shy, awkward goofball ,as you’ll find out in this chapter:
Cameos by:
Benedict Cumberbatch as Jesse Holmes
Nick Frost as Seamus McCoy
Simon Pegg as Danny Sylvester


The next day, the duo spent the day in the trailer. The concert was canceled due to heavy rains. Finding nothing better to do, she decided to prod him about his personal life. “So, how’d ya two meet? ” she asked, anxiously. “Wow…yer really not gonna let me off the hook without somethin for yer article, eh? Ok, I’ll spill.” he finally relented, (finding no escape from her) with a laugh and a reminiscing look in his eyes. He put off his cigarette in the ash tray before beginning his story:
I was an 18 year ol nobody workin at a record store. I’d just finished my shift, when my mate, Jesse Holmes, who frankly had it better, since his deep, sultry voice o’er the radio made women all o’er Scotland swoon! He was an RJ at the local radio station an’ every evening we’d drop by the YMCA for a game o’ billiards. If it were up to Jesse an’ I , we’d probably play tennis or football, but thanks to our less athletic mates, Seamus McCoy an’ Danny Sylvester, who’d always complain o’ body aches when we brought up outdoor games, we stuck to billiards…. he rambled on, getting carried away by the good ol days. “Is this story goin anywhere? ” she interrupted. “Oi! D’you wanna hear it or not?” he asked. “Fine. Sorry. Continue…just hurry.” she replied, impatiently. “Way to kill the moment! ” he groaned, before continuing:
Anyway, we decided to go out for a beer after a tiring game o’ billiards. But Jesse, the womanizer/smooth one among us, decided to drop by the YWCA next door. Back then, he had this French thing goin on, where he aped the French with his fake accent an’ this thin mustache he’d been growin to get the ladies…as if his voice wasn’t enough! He brought out the wild side in all o’ us good Christian boys. Anyway, I’d left the blokes to flirt with the innocent women, as I headed to the room from where the sound o’ piano music wafted out. The pianist in me was intrigued. The intrigue was soon replaced by love. From her tiptoes to her lithe body to her beautiful face, she was perfection! Of course, she received the shock o’ er life when she saw my lovestruck face pressed against the window and my longing eyes staring at her and she lost her balance. I ran to help her up as she struggled to stand. She grimaced, shifting off er left leg. “Hope ya didn’t hurt yerself…” I hoped, helping er to a bench, as I took off her flat to examine her aching left foot. “Think she’s sprained er ankle. Nothin a lil spray can’t heal! I’m Seamus. Paramedic.” my flirtatious friend introduced with a grin. “Sorry about my friend, mademoiselle. He’s a bit o’ a peepin Tom! ” jerk Jesse teased, receiving a nudge from Danny who was always standin up for me an’ couldn’t stand Jesse’s showy attitude. “Aye, I didn’t mean to startle ya. Uhh…my apology would sound better if I knew yer name though…” I began to apologize. “One helluva pick-up line! ” I heard Danny mutter to Jesse behind me, while Seamus snickered on hearing Dan. “I’m Sylvia O’Donnell.” she replied, with a friendly smile, that meant she’d accepted my apology. “I’m Luke McDonald.” I introduced, before I heard Jesse (who was rather upset o’er a missed opportunity) exclaim in disbelief- “I can’t believe that bloody line worked! ” We had to make a run for it though, once security found out we’d snuck in! I wouldn’t be meetin er until I bumped into er at the record store a few days later. I finally mustered up the courage to ask her out as she was browsin through Celine Dion albums. I dunno how we got along the whole time we were together. We learnt that we didn’t have a lot in common, on the first date itself! I loved heavy metal an’ rock an’ roll, she loved opera an’ love songs. She was rich, I was, uh…well off! She owned a stable full o’ horses an’ listed horse racing as one o’ er hobbies….An’ me? I was allergic to horses! An’ I still dunno how we ended up movin in together….or even got engaged!

Blue Sky tag

I’ve been tagged again by my pal, Sithara (bloggin @ Musings of a mellow mind). As Elvis would say-


Have a fantastic summer, btw

Unlike exams, this is somethin I always look forward to answerin! 😋 Anyway, ere are the 11 questions posed by my tagger:
1)How long has it been since you started blogging?
2)What is the best thing you like about blogging?
3)Do you prefer a sunrise or sunset?
4) The stars or the moon?
5) Would you rather read the book or watch the movie?
6) Are you an introvert or extrovert?
7) What is the best thing that has ever happened to you?
8) Do you or would you ever read fan fiction?
9) What is your favorite social networking site?
10) Do you have siblings? If not, who would you prefer to have, a brother or a sister?
11) What is/was your favorite subject at school?

Ere are my 11 answers:
1) I’ve lost track o’ time, but I’d say it’s been 2 or 3 years since I started this blog.
2) The best thing bout bloggin is that I get the opportunity to share my writin with people from around the world. I’d never thought anyone would read my stories an’ ere ya are, all o’ ya goofballs readin an’ likin an’ I’m ever so grateful to all o’ y’all:D I’d like to give ya all big hugs for encouraging me, so ere’s a lil somethin for each one o’ y’all:


3) Sunset. Cuz once that baby sets, it’s nighttime, DW rerun time on FX, dinnertime an’ then of course, my fav- bedtime! 😁
4) The stars. I could watch those babies twinkle all night long an’ hope they don’t go out (sorry. It’s a Whovian’s dilemma):


5) Read the book. Since they leave out a lotta important an’ fun stuff in the movies at times or end up ruining the story altogether.
6) An ambivert.
7) I found an empty notebook to write in an’ it ignited my passion for writing and occasionally ,doodling.
8) I love to read fanfiction. My wattpad library’s full o’ it, btw.
9) At the moment , I’m only on Google+ an’ it’s pretty much my fav cuz it’s got a lotta fan clubs an’ stuff.
10) I’ve two brothers. Would prefer an identical twin sis though😎
11) English and psychology.

Paging the next 11 people:
1) prathyusha p rao
2) phlegmaticdude
3) Thatgirl4everblog
4) Frank Solanki
5) yaskhan
6) Simon An Accidental Anarchist
7)Miguel Olmedo Morell
10) Esther (Thoughts9367)

Below are your very own 11 questions to answer👇
Alright ,are we sittin comfortably? Let’s begin! :
1) Songs that are stuck in your head at the moment?
2) D’you prefer writing online or the ol fashioned way (paper an’ ink)?
3) Fav holiday destination?
4) What is the most amazing dream you ever had?
5) Fav horror movie?
6) Most horrible thing you’ve ever eaten/ drank/ tasted?
7) Scariest thing you ever seen?
8) If you could delete one thing from the world, what would it be?
9)  Most idiotic thing you’ve ever done?
10) Fav thing to do when you’re not busy?
11) Fav author?

       *Till we meet again, comrades*


A/N: Uh-oh! Is it the end o’ their affair?
He smiled as he watched his young new manager fast asleep on the couch. They’d been half way around the Highlands an’ it’d taken a toll on both of em. More on her than him! Even though he was the one who went up on stage and strummed till his fingers bled just to hear that sweet sound of applause from his million fans, but she had the most difficult task- getting him on stage! He’d been sulking the whole tour long and had been giving her a hard time, refusing to leave his trailer. He just felt unmotivated without Sylvia and he hated being away from her for such a long time. Meanwhile, Ina hated dealing with the restless crowd. She’d fallen fast asleep as soon as her head hit the couch cushion. Seeing her shiver a bit, he picked up a blanket from his bed before draping it over her. He lit a cigarette to keep himself warm, before deciding to call her. “Hey, sorry for callin ya so late. Did I wake ya? ” he asked, hearing her drowsy voice on the other end. “Nah.  Just watchin some borin show on Netflix.” she replied. “What’re ya wearin? ” he asked saucily, starting early with the dirty talk! “What’re ya wearin? ” the equally seductive Sylvia asked without replying to his question, deciding that two could play this game! “I’m nude! ” he lied, with a grin. “Oh! Well, I’m… the opposite….wearin PJs! ” she exclaimed, letting out a chuckle on hearing him cuss in disappointment. “Who’re ya talkin to? Yer mystery man? ” he heard a suspicious Tom interrupt. “Mystery man….who? It was….uh…Just, uh….my friend Stella, love.” he heard her whisper. “It’s late. Get yer arse in bed, eh? ” he heard him order in a rude manner, before the phone went dead. He decided to call her again a few minutes later, hoping she had decided to rebel against the rude bastard and stayed up. His expectations were met with disappointment, as he picked up. “Listen, whoever ya are, you’d better stop contactin my wife….or I’m gonna hunt ya down, ya hear?! ” Tom threatened, not recognizing his voice, but still furious on hearing it, realizing his wife had lied to him.


The next morning:
“She told ya about our meeting, eh? ” he asked, picking up the dictaphone which she’d absent mindedly left on the couch. She’d spent the night there and was just rolling off the couch sleepily to make him a hangover cure. “Gimme that! ” Ina exclaimed, grabbing at her precious dictaphone, but he held it outta her reach. She’d secretly recorded their conversation when Mrs. Fletcher had been lost in the story. He motioned to her to sit back down. “She left out a few things.” he muttered, before continuing where she’d left off:
Then, I caressed her hair and she dug her nails into my back, before pulling my jacket off and tossing it onto a sand dune. We made our way to her hotel room where we spent the night. The next thing I remember was me smoking a fag as I usually did after a night o’ passionate lovemakin, an’ er knockin it outta my mouth with a flick o’ er fingers, remarkin- “That’s a disgustin habit! ”  Then, she was gone. We went our separate ways. I continued on my tour, while she jetted off around the world with im– before we ended up together in Scotland. He finished, with a grin, obviously proud of the memory, as Ina listened intently. “She’s got a nasty habit o’ o’er-sharing. I guess I do too! ” he remarked, before pressing the erase button on the dictaphone, to Ina’s horror! “This stuff’s personal. Can’t trust anyone with it. Now, put it outta yer mind an’ bring me my coffee, lass! ” he ordered growlingly, before tossing the device aside.