Let me think

I felt I had to clear my head. There were so many emotions and still some pain, possibly a suspicion that I was actually in a coma and The Demon was some way of distracting me from my predicament. Do you even dream if you are in a coma? If this was all fantasy then I could behave as I want, but something seemed to be holding me back. I went outside into my drive and looked at my car. Even if felt comfortable driving, which I did not, my keys were elsewhere and I was in no mood to search the house for the spare.

My new neighbours I had only glimpsed through the window as they decorated and I seemed to detect the outline of a bulge on the woman. They seemed youngish, by which I meant below 35, and the brightly coloured superminis they owned added to the evidence. However when I glanced over the fence dividing our driveways, I was welcomed with the kind of site which would have made any heterosexual male teenager turn around and head for his bedroom.

I do not know who invented yoga pants but I wanted to thank them, right there and then. She was bending over to look at a plant and those pants were stretched into translucency giving the imagination ample ammunition, especially as she appeared to be wearing a thong at the most. Even though I have lived a long enough to know how long an acceptable stare is, she must have felt the burn of my eyes and turned around.

“Hello.”
“Hi, I’m Ben from next door.”
“Obviously. I’m Natalia.”
“So how’s the move going?”
“It’s just great to be in so quickly. Even if it’s not furnished it’s great to be under our own roof. 12 months of work at least.” and she proceeded to tell me of the various jobs that needed doing.

While she was speaking, I, and of course The Demon, drank her in. The long straight dark highlighted hair parted in the middle giving a symmetrical frame to her pretty pale olive face with twinkling almond brown eyes, a thin nose of medium length, average lips in front of prominent yet perfect white teeth She wore understated gold eye-shadow and pale pink lip gloss. She wore a grey tea shirt over her full breasts and it was hard to detect much of the bulge from the front.

In my head the voice “You fancy this momma. I can feel where your blood is rushing to.”
“Can you tell if she is pregnant?”
“Can’t you? Don’t you think a woman this fit would have a flat stomach?”

Back to a real conversation, “It’s always a lot of work to move.” I said in sympathy.
“If you don’t mind me saying you look a bit rough.”
I ran through the brief highlights of the night before.
“Oh my god! Do you need a lift?”
“It’s OK I can get the bus if I decide to go to the police station.”
“Seriously I don’t mind and you can tell me about the area. I can go shopping and you can text me when you have finished.”