Left (picturesque route)

“That way I think” Lucy points as she strolls off, knowing you will follow. A couple of steps ahead of you lets you see how the soft breeze is gently blowing around Lucy’s skirt, causing the hem to bellow outwards as far as the tight material will allow, and you assume that from behind you look as good as she does right now.

Moving to catch her up, you resume your pleasant stroll, looking around at the sights surrounding you, the long shadows of the trees in the late evening sun, the sound of the birds in those trees and one or two fit looking joggers out for an evening run.

Further along the quiet path you see a dog walker heading towards you, not exactly an unusual sight. As you come closer, the small dog that has been pulling at its lead stops and drags towards your legs and the man walking the small animal pulls hard at the lead to stop the dog reaching you.

“Sorry girls” he apologies as the three of you all stop, “he just has to try to sniff everyone we pass.”

“No problem,” Lucy tells him as she kneels down to stroke the cute little dog, “What’s his name then?”

“Well, the wife named him Bruce, don’t ask me why, but I tend to just call him a pain in the arse.”

The three of you share the joke, whilst Lucy’s hand is licked so hard you wonder if the dog isn’t going to remove a layer of skin.