The Cucumber Man., c/o : Grant Oddoye... the first 2 instalments...

The Cucumber Man (Copyright Grant Oddoye 2008)

She knew instinctively that he was a man of some considerable bearing, not because of his exquisite attire, but because of his bulging pocketbook and afro mullet – a man of connections and credentials. Her voluptuous bosom heaved at the thought of all that wedge, and with a small sigh of elation she inched towards her prey.
“I do say” she proclaimed “do you have a light? My fine young man…” and with that he raised one eyebrow tentatively and began to rummage vigorously in his trouser pockets, seemingly oblivious to her dastardly intentions.
“I believe I do” he retorted “but for snakes and cigar ends I can’t seem to find it”. He looked perplexed, and, somewhat absentmindedly, flicked a piece of caviar off the sleeve of his tuxedo.
“Ne’er mind” she giggled “that’s not really why I wanted to talk to you anyway”.
“Oh?!” he exclaimed, and with his interests now aroused he added “pray tell”.
“Well, I had noticed your bulging pocketbook” she pouted “and was overwhelmed by your potentially sizeable assets” she confessed, her gaze now wandering playfully over his manly stature. “I was just wondering, how does a lady such as myself become privy to such splendor?”
His nostrils flared slightly at the directness of her words and the sheer inappropriateness of her gaze and voluptuous bosom, but he could not hide the intrigued and lustful look in his eyes any longer; this lady of questionable means meant business, and he wanted a piece of the action. Lord knows, she wanted a piece of his cucumber… to be continued

**2
“Your flattery is duly noted and appreciated” he remarked “however I feel I should warn you that my pocketbook contains a little more than you expect, and more than even you – I fear – can handle.” His eyes now flitted from side to side, and a small bead of sweat, mixed with grease, trickled from his mullet. “I cannot be held accountable for the consequences.”
Her hands, once full of tension and anticipation, now relaxed and slowly caressed her thighs, as if to prophesize their impending exertions. She writhed, and her gaze now became fixed on his ever so anxious expression. “Really?!” she teased “sounds fascinating. But I assure you that I can more than handle anything you have to show me” her voice lowering to emphasize the seriousness of her claim.
His eyes now became still and distant, and his posture fluid, as if some part within him had surrendered to her spell – succumbed to her desires. He stooped to clench the nearby banister, and his grip tightened slowly, deliberately. “You are absolutely sure of this?” he queried, somewhat nonchalantly.
“A lady is always sure of herself” she replied “if she were not, she would not be a lady” and with that she pressed herself against the banister, grasping his free hand in her cold, slender grip. “I want to know” her voice trembled “I must know, for my spirit depends on this divine glory, this heavenly pleasure. My body demands it – my soul yearns for it.” Her eyes now flared and her bosom became more and more animated with every breathe she took. His eyes moved to meet hers, and their gaze became locked, fixed, intensified.
He now knew the inevitability of their union, their fated partnership. His eyes slowly dropped, and as the intoxicating smell of her perfume mixed with the manly fragrance of his mullet he whispered “but cucumber is not meant for ladies…” to be continued