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" I add. "You need something different." You have the best wise man act I have ever encountered." He chuckles at me now. no longer anxious to have me fell up his loving void."Good I have worked very hard on it." I grin back at him."Then this pact: be my friend and help me find my love." Gunga Din offers me his hand to shake.I take it and press my fingers to his palm "I am your friend. May the universe guide us to your love." I seal the pact."Come here." He says with a grin as he pulls on my hand and maneuvers me into his lap. I find that I am giggling at him. It is a very uncomfortable lap, he has weapons stashed in the legs of his trousers."Right, this is not working." he mumbles under his breath. We shift around till sits with his legs spread open and I can lean back against his chest."I think we are going to start with the finessing of the love. 101, snuggle." crank my neck around to face me. "What in the universe are you carrying?"That gets me another chuckle and shrug. "the. "His name's Brute; I thought it apt; my name's Cindy."Jon almost, but not quite, commented on the aptness of her name, remembering the dolls his sister used to have. He managed to stifle the words before they left his tongue."Fancy a coffee Jon?" She asked; her head tilted to one side as if she were waiting for sand to fall out of her ear.Jon couldn't be sure, but thought that more than coffee was on offer, it was the twinkle in her eye that had him almost convinced, it could have been his imagination too or wishful thinking. He prided himself on being able to hold eye contact and not drop his gaze to the beautiful tits that pointed at him like a dead heat in a zeppelin race. Getting between them was becoming something of a quest for him."Um, yeah; sure; why not?" The decision took less than a nanosecond.Cindy rose from the bench; her skirt rustled in a silky way that hinted at a lining or petticoat. No one wears petticoats anymore, so it was reasonable to assume the skirt was lined..
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He was about two meters tall and the skin that she could see was tanned, so he spent a lot of his time outdoors, she guessed — probably being a farmer. It was her turn with the cashier then and she paid and was ready to leave in only a few minutes. She glanced at him as she turned to go and she saw his face in a rearward profile. It was then that she knew what it was about his hair. It was golden. It wasn’t as though she’d never seen a blonde man before — she’d seen many of them in her travels — especially here. They didn’t do much of anything for her. Not many of the men here did. But this one … his hair wasn’t really blonde. It looked to be more of a light brown, and yet, it was as though the hair on his arms and what she could see curling out from underneath the ball cap that he wore was trying to be blonde, as though it wanted to be, but had been cast into the role of being brown and rebelled whenever it had the chance for it. It almost made her smile as she walked past and out.

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