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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 04, 2016

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Submitted: June 04, 2016



Yiska takes me home with her
in the lunch recess
at school;
it's a sunny day,
and she lives
a few minutes away.

Her mum is out seeing
her sister in a far off town.

She opens the door
of the house,
and I enter in,
and she closes the door.

I smell polish
and fresh air.

Nice place,
I say,
smells flowery.

Mum's a tidy-house freak;
spends time on her housework,
and if she's on a downer
she spends longer,
Yiska says.

She takes me into the lounge,
and it is neat as a new pin,
and I look around.

Want a sandwich?
She says.

Have we time?
I say.

Of course; I can make
a sandwich,
she says.

So we go into the kitchen;
it is neat, tidy and spotless.

Sit on the stool,
and I'll get us a sandwich.

So I sit and she gets
bread, butter and cheese,
and makes us sandwiches,
and pours us some fruit juice.

We sit together on the two stools,
and she says,
I could show you my room,
but my big brother
might come home,
he does some lunchtimes.

You showed me
your room before,
I say.

O so I did,
she says smiling,
he'd tell Mum
and then there'd be
hell to pay;
he's a git that way,
she says.

We eat and sip the juice.

Maybe when I know
for sure he won't be home,
and mum's away again,
I can show you again,
and do something,
she says,
looking at me.

Do something?
I say.

Yes, you know, things,
she says.

If we have time
and not have lunch,
she adds.

After we ate lunch,
she takes me into the garden,
and shows me
her father's work.

Mum's the designer;
Dad's just her labourer,
Yiska says.

Then she turns,
and kisses me
full on the lips,
and holds me to her,
and I sense her there,
and her small breasts
against my chest,
and I dream
all the rest.

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