As we were blasted with unadulterated sunshine, unusual in its frequency, we began to talk of days by the sea, walks in the woods, picnics; and all manner of things one might do to fully indulge this glorious sunshine. Discussing picnics, what you would eat, where you would go or even, where you would go and who you might eat, I laid out what the ideal picnic would be for me. A nice shaded spot on the edge of a glade, long wild grass that lay untamed, the comfortable padded mat that improved on those crap tartan things that supermarkets sell, some choice nibbles (pastries especially mentioned) and a good humoured, sexy companion to while away the hours in the sun.
Our conversations continued, as did the fantastic heatwave, and I thought little more about it. I figured if she was interested in meeting she would say. After all, no one likes a pushy prick. It was approaching that time of year when, as is sometimes the case, everybody seems to have a birthday all at the same time. Chatting about this to Jane, I mentioned that she would enjoy this time around me due to a friend being a quite outstanding cake maker. We had known her for years and she had been preparing our parcel of birthday cakes since some of those now married had been at school. Describing the various odd concoctions and designs she had made, differing tastes and changing fads seemed to have a peculiar effect on Jane. Far from being interested, or aroused as I hoped, she had become more quiet, distant. Until that message.
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