Wulfie
22-06-2012, 06:34 PM
IfqSmzR97UA
The trip to Paris had been successful, an easy drive down, delivered the goods and now for home but the return journey was going to be entertaining.
The Jaguar purred along, her heart of over 50yrs not missing a beat but like me she was in need of a little tlc. The rain hammered on the windshield as I passed through Arras. It was early evening, I was tired and I was hungry. In the verge there was a sign ‘for’ Grenay and somewhere in the old memory banks stirred the picture of a quaint little village, it’s thriving cafe and a fleapit of the adjoining hotel.............. time for a detour methinks.
As I entered the village it was starting to get dark and I saw that the recession like elsewhere had not been kind. In the glow of the one working streetlight in the square I saw that the houses looked shabby, paint peeling from their once loved and cosseted walls. The place looked deserted apart from the dim glow of a light in the cafe window. It was still here after all this time but like the village had changed for the worse. One possible blessing was that the hotel was boarded up, at least I’d have the incentive to seek a better roof for the night elsewhere.
I parked up and entered the cafe, the not too unpleasant smell of Gauloises hitting my nostrils. In the dim light I could make out the forms of two elderly men playing cards in the corner. A short look in my direction and the interest went back to their game. The old woman behind the counter was more than happy for my custom and conversed in quite good English when she realised where I was from and not once whilst speaking did she take the cigarette from her mouth. She poured me a glass of wine, half of the ash from her fag dropping into the glass as she did. Little persuasion was needed to get her to make some crepe and as she slipped through the door to the kitchen, thoughts of that fag in her mouth whilst cooking darkened my mood.
I knew I’d had worse so with resignation I picked up the bottle and my glass of surprisingly good red wine and settled myself into an old well worn settee to await my ash flecked food.
As I started my second glass a soft warm hand touched me on the shoulder making me jump. I hadn’t heard her approach but on looking up I saw it’s owner leaning over me and I was less than happy for this sudden intrusion.
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7970
She had the face of many a woman I’d seen in many a bar. Tired looking, deep dark soul-less eyes and a predatory manner or was I wrong on the latter.
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7967
" Bonjour monsieur, I could not help but over-hear you talking to mother, you are alone, oui. "
« Errrr yes, oui »
"My name is Michelle, I sing here, do you want to hear me sing, oui?"
“Errr No thanks, it’s alright” I felt guilty saying that and I realised that I was more tired than I first thought. Still I’d said it now.
I then looked past her to notice the old men had stopped their card game and were staring across with their ancient beady eyes. Both were grinning inanely through toothless lips and it made me wonder, which one played the banjo..........
I felt that I was being set up for something, was Michelle a working girl? She was dressed in a $1000 dollar dress that would have graced the figure of any actress, she looked dirty but clean at the same time and she smelt of a mixture of sweet sweat and Gaultier, a heady musky smell, almost erotic.........
Her right arm outstretched and I thought ‘here we go’, ‘Hi Wulfie, me love you long time’, geeeeesh, I pulled 20Euros from my shirt pocket and placed it into her hand.
“Look, I’m tired, I’m hungry and I don’t want any, please just go away”.
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7968
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7971
.
The trip to Paris had been successful, an easy drive down, delivered the goods and now for home but the return journey was going to be entertaining.
The Jaguar purred along, her heart of over 50yrs not missing a beat but like me she was in need of a little tlc. The rain hammered on the windshield as I passed through Arras. It was early evening, I was tired and I was hungry. In the verge there was a sign ‘for’ Grenay and somewhere in the old memory banks stirred the picture of a quaint little village, it’s thriving cafe and a fleapit of the adjoining hotel.............. time for a detour methinks.
As I entered the village it was starting to get dark and I saw that the recession like elsewhere had not been kind. In the glow of the one working streetlight in the square I saw that the houses looked shabby, paint peeling from their once loved and cosseted walls. The place looked deserted apart from the dim glow of a light in the cafe window. It was still here after all this time but like the village had changed for the worse. One possible blessing was that the hotel was boarded up, at least I’d have the incentive to seek a better roof for the night elsewhere.
I parked up and entered the cafe, the not too unpleasant smell of Gauloises hitting my nostrils. In the dim light I could make out the forms of two elderly men playing cards in the corner. A short look in my direction and the interest went back to their game. The old woman behind the counter was more than happy for my custom and conversed in quite good English when she realised where I was from and not once whilst speaking did she take the cigarette from her mouth. She poured me a glass of wine, half of the ash from her fag dropping into the glass as she did. Little persuasion was needed to get her to make some crepe and as she slipped through the door to the kitchen, thoughts of that fag in her mouth whilst cooking darkened my mood.
I knew I’d had worse so with resignation I picked up the bottle and my glass of surprisingly good red wine and settled myself into an old well worn settee to await my ash flecked food.
As I started my second glass a soft warm hand touched me on the shoulder making me jump. I hadn’t heard her approach but on looking up I saw it’s owner leaning over me and I was less than happy for this sudden intrusion.
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7970
She had the face of many a woman I’d seen in many a bar. Tired looking, deep dark soul-less eyes and a predatory manner or was I wrong on the latter.
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7967
" Bonjour monsieur, I could not help but over-hear you talking to mother, you are alone, oui. "
« Errrr yes, oui »
"My name is Michelle, I sing here, do you want to hear me sing, oui?"
“Errr No thanks, it’s alright” I felt guilty saying that and I realised that I was more tired than I first thought. Still I’d said it now.
I then looked past her to notice the old men had stopped their card game and were staring across with their ancient beady eyes. Both were grinning inanely through toothless lips and it made me wonder, which one played the banjo..........
I felt that I was being set up for something, was Michelle a working girl? She was dressed in a $1000 dollar dress that would have graced the figure of any actress, she looked dirty but clean at the same time and she smelt of a mixture of sweet sweat and Gaultier, a heady musky smell, almost erotic.........
Her right arm outstretched and I thought ‘here we go’, ‘Hi Wulfie, me love you long time’, geeeeesh, I pulled 20Euros from my shirt pocket and placed it into her hand.
“Look, I’m tired, I’m hungry and I don’t want any, please just go away”.
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7968
http://www.uklovedollforums.co.uk/forum/picture.php?albumid=517&pictureid=7971
.