Thursday, July 19, 2018

The Girls

by Gurmeet Mattu (writer), Glasgow, December 25, 2009

One of them has a 'bad' reputation, and the other doesn't, but which is which?

Sharon pursed her lips and said, “My boss said he thought I was a trumpet.”
Eleanor nodded sagely. “I think he meant strumpet.”
Sharon pulled back from her cup. “What’s that then?”
“It’s like a slapper,” then noticing Sharon’s fraught look, “only more classy.”
Sharon’s lower lip drooped and she took another sip from her coffee. “I’m not a slapper. I’m a ..a .. flirt.”
Eleanor smiled. “Oh no, Shaz, you’re much more than that. Even I can flirt occasionally, depending on the guy, but you go to places I’d fear to tread.”
Sharon took time digesting this, along with the last of her dessert. Eventually she wiped her lips and asked, “Do you think I’m a slapper then, El?”
“Of course not, not my Shaz.”
Eleanor thought she’d satisfied the blonde’s need for self knowledge, but obviously not. Sharon took a paper tissue from her handbag and blew her nose into it. Vigorously. Her voice soft, she demanded more. “Tell me the truth, El. If we’re so close. I won’t hold it against you, honest. What do you think of me?”
“You’re Sharon, the sweetest, kindest …..” Eleanor complimented.
“I know that, but the kind of woman I am. You know what I mean.”
Eleanor almost decided to grasp the thorn, but her nerve failed her. “Trollop, hussy, bimbo, none of them quite captures the essential you, love.”
“It’s because I’m popular.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I mean it. Other girls are just jealous.”
“Of course they are. You’ve got much better legs than they have. And you show them off so well.”
Sharon smoothed her nylons and smirked. “I’m the only one in my office that gets a short skirt bonus.”
Ellen did her sage nod again. “That’s because everybody else in your office is a man.”
Sharon came out fighting. “They could wear a skirt if they wanted to! It’s in the Sex Discrimination Act. I’d still beat them.”
The brunette smiled. “Even Lawrence?”
Sharon pouted. “Lawrence is in touch with his feminine side.”
Eleanor stifled a laugh. “He’s the only man I know that could trip up a guy and be under him before he hit the deck.”
“He’s a slut!”
“Yes,” Eleanor agreed, “But he does dress very well.”
Sharon took another draft of caffeine and said, “It’s just that I like it so much. It’s natural.”
“Of course it is, and that’s why you’re so thin.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that you should stop and eat occasionally.”
Sharon gave her a bewildered look and then crumpled in laughed. “You’re kidding. I thought you were being serious.”
“The truth is,” Eleanor said in quite stern tones, “that you have gained yourself somewhat of a reputation.”
“I can’t help it. I like men and they like me.”
“Yes, dear.” Eleanor reached over and patted the smaller woman’s hand. “But you have to learn to be a little more discreet.”
Sharon gave the pout that had weakened the knees of 458 men. “I am discreet. I don’t kiss and tell.”
“No, but men, being children, cannot help but boast. And they all boast about you.”
“Dirty buggers,” Sharon spat, “There should be a law against it.”
“There is,” Eleanor agreed, “It’s called the law of slander. But it only applies if it’s untrue.”
“What do they say then?”
Eleanor rested her chin on her hands and moved forward. “Not that I pay attention to idle gossip but I’ve heard it said that you have incredible technique.”
“That would have been George. I gave him a special.”
“I’ve also heard it said that you are extremely vociferous.”
Sharon looked bemused. “Is that a position?”
“No, it means you are very loud.”
“I’m not that noisy.”
“There were complaints.”
“From a man in Peru.”
Sharon crumpled again. “You’re so funny, El. That’s why I love you. You’re always there for me. Always. But we never talk about you. How are you? What have you been up to? Have you got a boyfriend?”
Eleanor gave an exaggerated sad face. “The last time I had sex, love, the bow and arrow was a secret weapon.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
Eleanor fussed with her hair, but Sharon persisted. “How can you live without it?”
Eleanor sniffed. “It’s not that important.”
“Of course it is. You must be gagging for it.”
Eleanor gave another sniff and made a great play of checking her mobile and looking at her watch. “I have to go.”
“You are. You’re gagging for it.”
“I have never gagged for it in my entire life.”
“You should try being a trumpet sometime.”
“I don’t think I have it in me.” and she blushed furiously.
“I’m late. I have to get back to work”
She stood up and started putting on her jacket. Sharon jumped up to help her. Eleanor picked up her bag and the two women air kissed. Eleanor took two steps towards the café door and stopped.

She turned to Sharon and said, “I mean it, you really need to be more discreet, mum.”

About the Writer

Gurmeet Mattu is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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2 comments on The Girls

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By Lady D on December 27, 2009 at 06:59 pm

Great story.

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By Celesta88 on June 23, 2014 at 05:13 am

Like the story sukienka na lato

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