Lucky Lady #1

I was standing in front of the mirror in the powder room, playing with my hair and thinking about what gift to get for Terry and what to give little Philip John and his new parents when suddenly an unfamiliar male voice addressed me. I jumped. A man in the powder room?

"Good evening, ma'am....I must apologise for being in the ladies' powder room but I'm new and mixed up my bearings. I hope I didn't embarrass you....My name's Cullen Murphy. I'm a close friend and colleague of Terry Thorne. We're in the same business...saving unfortunate people...I think of it as my vocation in life....I always wanted to devote myself to helping others... "

He went on at length about himself, almost telling me his life story, but he was so cute that it wasn't a problem at all to listen. "I was going to be a priest but I wasn't very good at Latin, you see...I'm sorry, Ma'am, or should I say, fraulein...? I do tend to talk a lot. I've always wished I could be the strong and silent type but I'm too sociable for that, I'm afraid...."

I just shook my head not sure that I could manage to control my lips enough to speak. I took a closer look at the guy. He looked even better at a second glance...all swarthy and unshaved. Then he really made my head spin when he suddenly said. "...May I just say something and risk embarrassing you again? You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I hope the man you're with appreciates just how lucky he is - and tells you so every day. A woman like you deserves to be courted and treated like a goddess..."

I placed my hand over my heart in shock. My cheeks were reaching a very dark red when I heard him telling me how beautiful I was to him...even my cleavage blushed.  He had managed to give me more compliments in five minutes than Egan in a year! Of course, that is just Egan's way, and I do love him truly but I was so starved of hearing such lovely words that I nodded and let Mr. Murphy escort me out and towards the bar. I made an attempt at conversation myself. When I wasn't thinking: Eeek! What the...oh my god... Did he really just say Ma'am? He really just ma'amed me? "No, you didn't embarrassed me...it's ok...but please no ma'am anymore...My name is Tulip...." I was already blushing really hard...thinking about me not even having reached the age of thirty and this hunk called me ma'am...shit...THIS is embarrassing!

"Oh please...cut that crap with wanting to be a priest and failing because of bad Latin...guess if you ever really tried it was the tempting of the flesh, which threw you out...you...err...you know...with that looks...and smooth talk...there must have been a lot...women... By the way did I told you already that you do not look too bad yourself...Mr. Murphy...?"

He grinned and seemed to blush himself at my attempt at a compliment. He is so adorable! "So you're a friend of Terry?"  He held open the door and led me out into the corridor beyond.

"Maybe you could help me then...I just don't know what to get him for his birthday and I'm already late..." I had to think of something to keep him talking! Strong and silent he may have always wanted to be? Believe me being sociable is sometimes very appreciated!

"I've got some companion being strong and silent...although I'm not to sure about him being strong right now. You know, when I told him about Angel delivering her little baby-son and how it happened he lost the last bit of his speech, he barely uttered a word for over three days...since then... What can I say? You know what Egan can be like.

"Could I perhaps buy you a drink? I'm not trying to be inappropriate but I just want to bask in your loveliness for a while...." 

I sighed softly. "I...err... that is really nice of you...I...a drink...? Of course...I'd love...that...I...you could give me some tip concerning Terry's present by any chance in order of that...? Seeing as you know him so well...?"

He stopped and gave it some thought. "Terry's birthday present? You can't go wrong with a good malt whisky or some cologne for a guy. Or maybe even some sexy underwear...men like that too, you know? Something silky and clinging...I'd show you mine but it's a bit public here, you know?" Then he looked about him. It was very quiet at the moment. He took my hand and walked me back to the powder room. I was so stunned, I simply let him. "Go on then....we can just slip back into the powder room for a moment..."

And once the door was shut, he simply unzipped his pants and dropped them, standing there in a pair of very well-filled briefs. He had a bashful look on his face. "...I'm a bit shy...but here goes...They're French...Gaia would appreciate them...I mean on Terry.....and they're very snug....what do you think...?"

Cullen

It was a quiet night at the bar when I walked in. Unusually quiet. This place is always buzzing. I decided to go check out the ladies' restroom while no one seemed about in search of that photograph Gaia had mentioned. It was pretty funny but, of course, all out war now. I would regard it as a pleasure to go one-on-one with that lady. That's when I bumped into Tulip whom I've seen around but never spoken to. She's always hanging off the arm of this guy named Egan who never says much. He's one of those strong and silent types who just gives meaningful glances. Guys like that just get on my tits.

So I moved in. It wasn't exactly a hardship posting. Tulip looks good enough to eat. I decided that what she probably lacked was a decent conversation, wit and a bit of a tease so I duly supplied all three. With my usual Irish charm heavily laced and a twinkle in my baby browns. We got pleasantly intimate - she did get a look at my undies but it was all very discreet - and I bought her a drink back in the bar.

Then in walked another lady I've had my eyes on for a while. And again this time, she, like Tulip, was all alone....obviously my lucky night...

Lucky Lady #2

When I arrived at the Pub, I went straight to the bar, said shortly Hi to Jessie and Paul there, didn't ask for my usual coffee, but something stronger, for once. I needed it, feeling nervous. I sit silently, my back to the bar, not in a talkative mood tonight, focused mainly on what I had in mind.

John wouldn't be here before 7:30 PM. That was leaving me around one hour to do what I wanted to do. 

I scanned each part of the pub my eyes could reach, looking for something precise... or rather for someone. And couldn't find him. Damned, he was supposed to be here at this time of the day. Why not this evening, just when I had made up my mind about what I was about to do?

Then, a slight smile came to my face. Not a sweet, happy one. A determined one. I wanted something. And I was going to get it. Right now. He was there, near the pool table, sweet talking Tulip while she was waiting for Egan.

I swallowed my drink in one sip, nearly chocking on the strong alcohol, put the glass down almost brusquely and narrowed my eyes, focused on my "victim". I gave one quick look at my image in the big mirror behind the bar, added a little drop of French perfume behind my ears and in my cleavage, straightened my clothes, and walked straight to my goal, pasting on my face the sweetest smile I had in store.

"Cullen! Cullen Murphy! Just the man I needed to see tonight!"

Tulip looked at me a little surprised by my unusual behaviour; I usually wouldn't interfere in a conversation, particularly when both the protagonists seemed to enjoy it so much. It was a little embarrassing and I was sorry to imagine that my young friend could have a bad opinion of me. But I had to do something and wouldn't back down now.

Cullen, maybe flattered to be called that way by someone who was not known for looking at any other man but hers, turned his attention to me, probably intending to keep both of us under his charming spell. But I had other ideas tonight. I didn't want to share. I wanted him only for me. Face to face... in a way. Alone.

John's sweet smile and tender eyes came to my mind then, his image interfering with the one of Cullen's young face. It weakened my determination for a while. In fact, I must admit I was almost ready to give up. How could I do that? Was it worth it?  Well, yes, it was. I chased any thought of John from my mind. And carried on.

I quickly got him where I wanted him. He was so easy! Tulip was not happy but Egan soon arrived and she immediately had eyes only for him. It made it even easier for me, I now had  young Cullen's whole attention on me now. He seemed to be still on his guard, probably a little surprised that the good sheriff's woman could suddenly find him so fascinating. But this shouldn't be a problem too long. I explained him that I was so happy to meet him tonight because John was on duty, I was on my own and was feeling rather blue. I wouldn't keep him long but needed to talk a little to someone like him, charming, funny, witty, who was always travelling a lot, everywhere, and with whom I could talk friendly about my country and old Europe. The Sheriff was a wonderful man, but he could be so serious sometimes. I needed a little while of fun and he seemed to be just the right person for that.

We ordered drink after drink and he relaxed slowly, noticing that I seemed to get a little tipsy now. And our conversation soon started to become more personal. More... intimate. I started to tell him rather surprising things about my younger days, in words which sounded weird in my mouth, even to myself. I think he still was a little surprised but seemed to enjoy seeing another side of someone who is usually rather discreet, and maybe was also a little flattered to be the one in whom I was confiding rather personal memories.

"Yes, I'm serious, Cullen! I told you: I've never seen that! I swear! And I've heard that like Australians, Irish generally aren't. I'd like to see that, once. But I would never dare to ask anyone here. Nobody would have the guts to show it anyhow. Nobody, I tell you! I love them all, but they are amazingly shy when it comes to that kind of thing with women who are not their own. I'm sorry, that sounds a little rude. But you listen so nicely, Cullen. Even if we don't know each other much, I feel comfortable with you. And I would never dare to say that to John, you know! But you understand that it's just plain and logical curiosity, don't you? Hey, you know what I'm thinking right now? That you, you would be the kind of man who could dare to do it, just to help me, you know? Come on, just once, quickly! So I know how it looks. We can go near the men's room, discreetly. Nobody will know! This is a unique chance. I'm usually always in John's company. It's now or never. Cullen! Please!"

While saying these last words, I held out my hand invitingly. He hesitated. Then took it. I bet he was thinking that he was probably crazy to do that, but couldn't resist being the man who would show to the big bear's woman what she had never seen before, and maybe would never see again after.

Cullen

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You just never know, do you? It's always the quiet ones you have to watch. Looked like Clarity wanted rather more than a glimpse of my undies. This lady had made a request of a far more intimate nature. And let's face it, once seen hard to resist, you know what I mean? There has never been a woman who got that close and didn't feel the need to do more than look... She was obviously after my charms. She saw her chance and went for it. Smart girl! I gave her one of my wicked grins, winked and lifted my beer to finish my pint before obliging her somewhere quiet. I would probably have time before Grizzly Bear showed up....

Just then, someone slipped onto the bar stool beside me...."Clarity....can you give me five....?"

Lucky Lady #3

Perhaps it is motherhood that has made me bask in my sensuality or maybe Cort is right- the pictures Steve takes of me are little more than magnets for the attraction of men.  In either case, the lure of the hunter has started to work its magic on my sexuality, and I have to admit, there is a bit of feline thrill in being found attractive in a man's eyes.  Even a man who is not your own.  

What more opportune area to stake out prey but a bar?  It isn't only our own men who frequent the pub, but others too that remain nameless, faceless bodies that you pass without greeting because they have not touched your heart in any meaningful way.  And then there are those without mates of their own that you know simply as younger brothers or friends, that on an ordinary night hold no interest whatsoever to you, because you have a solid body to hold on to late in the night and a warm soul who gives you all you ever need. 

Usually.  

But tonight, it is has nothing to do with an empty heart or need for company, it is about the chase.  It is to do with the beat of one's heart in their ears as they stalk their prey through a thick forest of bodies and sound and light until you corner them and bring them to their knees because they wish to be devoured by your superior strength and skill.  And who makes better prey for a woman who feels the goddess rising up within her most secret being but the youngest stag, still fresh in his youth and vigor? 

Cullen Murphy.  Now that is a prize worth the hunt.   

Oh, my brain knows well the sort of youth that he is- boastful and proud, seeking the respect of all who listen to his tales of prowess in the hunt that he claims, the need to be thought the king of all men, simply because he is young and virile.  How many such boy-men have I known in my life?  Many.  So many whose faces come to me when I see their like in this age.  They never change until they grow to wisdom.  Until then, one can simply only take joy in their ability to remember what youth feels like, when one wishes to be reminded. 

My body wishes.  Our first meeting was at best auspicious.  Did I believe his exploits when he bragged upon them to me and others?  Of course not.   Did I feel the desire to put him in his place as an older sister or woman is inclined to do?  Yes.  But at the same time, there is the maturity present to let him have this time and entertain his need to try his hand at attracting the notice of a woman such as we of the Pub with a listening ear.  Sometimes too, if occasion presents itself, one might also allow him to prove himself able to live up to his words...

He sat talking to Clarity at the bar, somewhat perplexed at what seemed to be a triumphant evening thus far.  Paul never resists an opportunity to take my daughter and play uncle to her, slipping from behind the bar to the dance floor with her for a spin or two.  So while he played with her a while, I ordered my usual drink and took a seat next to Cullen. 

Does he trust me?  It is hard to tell.  He works for the same men who employed me once upon a time.  But when I sat quietly, swirling my straw in the milk before me without fanfare and giving away my position, he seemed to quit watching for a sign that I might not be serious in my intent.  Perhaps he does know how to play the game after all.  He asked if he could buy me the next and make it stronger.  I replied that he could, but to keep it the same order, as I had no intention of getting my daughter drunk later when it was her dinner time.  This garnered a sly glance at the area in discussion, bound in a rather tight-fitting sweater that before I became pregnant was a little looser.

"Do you remember the other night when I asked to see your tattoo?"  It seemed an off-handed question, one I might ask any other man without any further intent but to study something that fascinates me, as opposed to my far more ancient woad-and-paint work.  He smiled and rolled up his sleeve to give me a peek.  "I was wondering if you had any others that I might...examine.  I'm a healer, you know."  This last I added with a sweet smile, a private one for him before I sipped a little more from my glass.

"Well, I have this one on my, but I wouldn't think a lady like you would be interested in it.  I mean, you must have seen a hundred naked bodies with better tattoos.  I'd be more interested in yours.  Celtic history is a passion of mine, and you're a real Celt.  My tats are just silly little notions that boys get when they're drunk, you know?" 

"Every tattoo tells a story.  But Cullen, so does every body.  I am not always detached.  Some physiques and their markings hold my attention beyond the need to make sure they are healthy.  And I might be a lady, but I am a woman too.  And you are a fine work of some gracious creator.  If you wish it, perhaps we could share the stories of our 'markings' and then I could let you in on a secret.  Have you ever seen a pierced labia?"

Cullen

I did hear that right? She said labia. Pierced labia. Down, boy, down...I've got this real hard core fantasy about a dominatrix and rubbing up against a jewelled ring...but you don't want to hear that, do you? I was beginning to sweat. Now, don't get me wrong. I am up for anything usually but this was a bit full on, you know what I mean? I had Tulip flashing me sweet looks across the room whenever the happy drover was looking the other way, Clarity waiting on me to flash her my eight inches and get to sample the natural feel of skin on skin and along comes She-ra the warrior queen offering me a fast track to her naughty bits....labia? It doesn't mean something else in Gaelic, does it? Like earlobe? I wouldn't want to get this wrong. Her man would have my bollocks at 200 metres...get out of this one, Murphy...

"What was that Jess? Sorry, Bou...just give me a minute...."

Lucky Lady #4

I get such a kick out of Cullen Murphy. He's so full of bravado and energy - he reminds me of a puppy - a big, energetic, horny puppy. I used to deal with guys like him all the time back when I was still stripping for a living. We had a large military clientele and I had a bit of a soft spot for those guys. They were young, funny, and so full of themselves; I always made sure to give them their money's worth.

I watched as Cullen made his rounds through the women in the pub: Tulip, Clarity, and then Bou as she sidled up next to him at the bar. They chatted quietly for a bit, and his eyes kept roaming to the vicinity of her breasts. Bou is still breast feeding her baby, and she looks the image of glowing, healthy motherhood. And yeah, she's got an impressive pair of knockers by anyone's standards, and it appeared that Cullen had taken a healthy notice of this fact.  Then, he suddenly looked away with an expression on his face that was a cross between surprise and embarrassment. I couldn't help but smile, because Bou does have a unique way with words and I can only imagine what she must have said to him to garner such an amusing response.

I motioned to him with a nod of my head to come on over to my end of the bar, and he excused himself from Bou's company and sat down directly in front of me, his eyes straying to my own slightly exposed cleavage. He realized that I caught him peeking and his eyes quickly met mine, but I gave him a wink to let him know that I wasn't offended by his attention being momentarily distracted.

I reached over to remove a piece of fuzz from his collar, and fought the urge to tussle his hair. "Hey Cullen, I need a hand with something - normally I get Paul to do this but he's on break right now, and I have a customer who's asking for the 12 year old scotch. We keep it on the top shelf and I can't quite reach it. Would you be a dear and give me a hand? That little step ladder scares me and I'm afraid of heights."

I nodded toward the small folded up ladder behind me and gave him my best doe eyed look. "It's a little rickety...I'll hold your legs to keep you steady if you'll come on over here and get it down for me."

He smiled and gave me a wink of his own and I went to set up the ladder as he slipped underneath the bar. I was struggling with the safety latch and he came up behind me, placing his hand upon my forearm as he removed the ladder from my hands.

"You shouldn't have to set this up, you may hurt yourself."  He had spoken very softly into my ear with a heavy Irish brogue as he came around from behind, and set the ladder down in front of the high shelves that held the liquor. I became aware of his cologne as he stepped onto the first rung and he smiled when he caught me leaning in for another whiff.

I smiled back and shrugged my shoulders. "Sorry, it's just that you smell good."

He seemed pleased that this type of thing had an effect on me, and gave me another wolfish smile. 

"Which bottle is it?" His eyes perused the inventory along the top shelf. "Dewars? Johnny Walker? Cutty?" 

He stepped upon the top rung and looked down at me, awaiting my answer. 

I motioned for him to reach further over to the right. "Chivas Regal."  

The ladder creaked and rocked sharply to the right along with him and I reached my arms around to grab hold of his legs and he grabbed the edge of the shelf for balance and gave out an amused chuckle - his bum was level with my face and even I had to giggle at the thoughts that traipsed through my mind at that moment. It was a very nice bum indeed.  

He gave me another wink, and I shifted over to his left side and braced his legs by wrapping my arms around his thighs and nodded my head. "Okay, ready."

It's funny how our baser impulses seem to take hold during those moments when we're presented with once in a lifetime opportunities, and I am not immune. I felt the corded muscles in his thighs contract as he reached up to grab the desired bottle and I guess my natural playfulness just got the better of me. I mean, can I help it if I just happened to "accidentally" reach around and grab his impressive package at the very same moment that he grasped the bottle of Chivas?

My actions had so startled him that he let out a yelp of surprise and the bottle of aged scotch came crashing down upon the bar with a thud. Surprisingly, it didn't break.

But it took Cullen a moment to compose himself as he jumped off the ladder and gave me a look that rivaled the one that was procured by Bou just moments earlier.

Cullen

'Fucking hell! I know I'm irresistible but I have to do something about these pheromones of mine. I'll be wandering around with women following me like the Pied feckin' Irish Piper the way I'm going. Not to mention the other factor that I am likely to get my face kicked in if any of their blokes get wind of my effect on their women. What can I do about it? It isn't my fault I'm gorgeous. They just can't keep out of my pants. Let me go take a leak and give it some thought...There must be a way I can work this so that no woman is disappointed, I get to sample all that's on offer and I still keep my balls....at least I'll be safe in the Men's room....' But before I could make my escape, the old Murphy magic started working again...

Lucky lady #5

Okay, so it went like this and I have to say that I am often unable to resist bad boys ... which Maximus knows only too well.

Besides, Cullen is such a hottie. A woman just can't help enjoying a bad boy that hot, right?

But what really did it for me was this: he'd mentioned to me, the first time I met him, that he'd been in a Catholic seminary when he was a boy. I couldn't help picturing him ... in high school, wearing some dorky black tie and white shirt too snug around the collar ... dark pants with his hems too short. Rolling his eyes behind the priests' backs and trying to look innocent to their faces but knowing they weren't fooled.

What can I say? I was once a good little Catholic girl. He had said to me that he had very catholic tastes. I remember thinking, "you too?"

I was wearing a plaid skirt when I went in the pub that day. I'd even rolled it up at the waist to make it really authentic. White shirt, Peter Pan collar. Knee socks. Shiny shiny patent leather shoes. Carrying a big telephone book.

He looked me over as I took the barstool next to him after sliding the telephone book down atop the bar. I like his eyes; they are always up to no good. He was drinking a pint of ale. I waited until he'd taken a big gulp.

I leaned in to his ear and, all husky voiced lust, said, "I'm not wearing any panties. Here ... I'll stand up and you can check if I'm telling the truth ... bet you know all about looking up my skirt by checking out the reflection in my black patent leather shoes."

He spewed the beer all over the bartop. Jessie mopped it up and gave him some sass. He kept darting his eyes my way as he tried to stop choking ... those eyes unable to not look down at my bare knees.

When Jessie moved away to service Bou and Clarity, I turned to face Cullen. I patted the telephone book. "You know what this is for, right? But for you, Cullen, I'd be willing to sit in your lap without it between us ..."

You know what I never knew? Maybe he really is shy, just like he told me the first time I met him. Who woulda thunk it?

Cullen

"Excuse me....I need to pee...." I rarely run in the face of danger but a still of Maximus from Gladiator crossed my mind, one of those moments when he sneered, lopped someone's head off and spat onto the arena floor. And that guy had only annoyed him a bit. I'm rather partial to my neck as well ...The safety of the Men's room beckoned. I slammed the door shut on the marauding women and breathed a sigh of relief....Then I strolled over to the urinal, unzipped and took a very welcome piss....

I heard the door open and someone walk in. The guy stood next to me and took up a position then let fly on the porcelain. He grunted slightly with relief as I was shaking off and tucking myself back in. I didn't look, of course, so it wasn't until I was washing my hands and caught his reflection in the mirror I realized who it was. Bud White.

He finished and strolled over to wash his hands, giving me a nod. I nodded back and then lit up a cigarette, breathing deeply and wondering if I should just slip out the back and call it a night until the women inside the bar had calmed down. "Women, huh?" I muttered to no one in particular.

"You got a problem with women?" White answered.

I laughed and took a drag. "You could say I'm about to OD..."

"Yeah? That so?" he replied and before I knew what was going on, he bulldozed me up against the tiles and had his arm across my windpipe. "Let's just see what you're carrying, pal...I got a hunch you and the law aren't bosom buddies..."

That guy is so fuckin' strong that he could hold me just with his weight alone while he rifled through my pockets with those big mitts of his. He pulled out my wallet and tossed it on the floor, helped himself to a couple of rubbers and then found what he was looking for. So I had a bit of weed on me? Jesus Christ, go tell my Mum. What is this, the fucking nanny police?

"Thought a little fuck like you wouldn't be clean. I should haul you downtown for this..."

"It's just a few grams. Come on, mate...it'd hardly get my granny high...it's nearly Christmas..."

"Christmas? So fucking what? You think like that gives you a get out of jail card..?"

I groaned and laid my head back on the wall. He relaxed his grip slightly so I moved and raised my knee sharply. He jumped back to save his bollocks and I spun out of his grasp. But he's quicker than he looks. Grabbing my arm, almost ripping the fucker off, he slammed my face against the wall. "You think you're getting away that easy?" he spat into my ear.

"Aw man, don't be a wanker about it!  Flush it down the fucking toilet. You cannot seriously expect to book me for a little misdemeanour like that?"

He didn't reply for a moment - nor did he let me go. Instead he grunted as if some thought processes were being engaged. "We might be able to work something out..." he muttered.

"Yeah? This gonna cost me? Thought you were the one they couldn't fucking bribe?" He didn't like me saying that and pressed my face hard against the cool tiles.

"Watch your mouth, son. I'm a police officer. Here's the juice. You be nice to me, I'll be nice to you..."

What was he getting at? Nice to him? "Meaning...?"

His knee thrust between my legs and pulled them apart, widening my stance and forcing me to bend slightly. I almost wet myself when I felt his free hand cup my butt. "You're not too fussy so I hear...how about we do a little deal? I forget about the illegal substances and you give me a little of that honey you're always talking about...I'll bet you give it out so sweet with that Irish blarney tongue of yours..."

Was I hearing this right? Bud White was coming on to me in the Men's room? He wanted me to wrap my lips around his legendary weapon? Oh, man...was I irresistible to men as well? Get out of this headlock, Cullen, my boy. Mind you, I had this passing notion that one probably shouldn't pass up any experience when it is offered. Still, if what they said about his dick was true, I was not letting that anywhere near my little lily white Irish arse.

I cleared my throat. "Sure, big guy, but you'll have to let me go first..." He stepped back and I rubbed at my neck. "When you're ready..." I whispered. He hesitated, so I nodded in the direction of his groin to give him a clue where we were heading then reached over, deftly unzipped him. That's when I ran for the door. I was out of that room so fast that I must have been well under the World record for 100 metres. Dashing through to the pub, I smoothed down my hair and tried to act like I hadn't just nearly been sexually assaulted by the scariest cop in the LAPD...

...And ran straight into a welcoming committee. There, blocking my way was Egan Trask, John Biebe, Cort, Lachlan Curry and Maximus himself. With Bud White not far behind. 

Now I'm a pretty tough guy, ex-Navy Seal and all round hard boyo. I've done my share of street fighting and pub brawling. TOL wouldn't have given me the time of day if I hadn't been able to look after myself. But this was a step too far. I'm not sure I would have much liked to take the general on one on one never mind ably assisted by one Alaskan Grizzly, a tough-as-shit Aussie drover, the meanest gunfighter from the wild west (hey, he might have found Jesus, but I'd been sniffing round his wife's labia, metaphorically speaking. He hadn't forgotten how to mercilessly kill) Even Curry is a little bruiser when he gets his temper up - and anyone going near Jessie would achieve that easily enough. I wasn't sure that it made any difference if I pleaded that it was hardly my genitals that had wrapped her fingers round them. Men tend to be less sympathetic to rational explanation at moments like this.

"Guys...what can I do for you? Drink on me?" I offered them a way out. Who am I kidding?

"Drink with the man who just tried to seduce my wife?" rasped Maximus.

"Who dropped his pants in front of my girl?" glowered Trask.

"Who exposed himself to Clarry, you dirty little motherfucker..?" cursed the good sheriff with uncharacteristic profanity.

"Who made a crude suggestion to my woman?" Cort murmured in a dangerously soft tone.

"And who stuck his groin in Jessie's face, you dirty little bleeder..." Curry added for good measure.

"...You got the little fairy there? That rat fuck Paddy just tried to proposition me in the john..." White brought up the rear.

I raised my hands in surrender. "It wasn't exactly like that, fellas...come on, girls...do me a favour...tell them it was all a misunderstanding...there was a perfectly sound reason for everything..."

The five women were standing just a little away. Ann blew me a kiss, Clarity pouted coyly, Tulip waved her fingers playfully, Bou rolled her eyes and licked her lips. Jessie mimicked slitting a throat. I groaned when I realized the set up I had walked into. So I appealed to my last hope. "O'Gallagher! You can't let them do this...you want blood on the carpet?"

They all turned for a second to catch his smirk - the bastard was already running a book on how many bones I would have left unbroken - and it gave me my chance. I elbowed Curry in the stomach and thrust him up against Maximus who staggered back. It gave me just enough space to charge through. Scrambling over a table and kicking a chair behind me, I swung round a pillar and headed for the door,  pushing people out of the way as I went - and grateful that it was a busy night.

The ice cold of a December night hit me as I burst out through the door. They were at my heels. I wouldn't make it out of the car park and, in fact, had given them the perfect spot for a good beating. This was not one of my better ideas.

Ahead of me was a high wall between the pub and the property next door. I took it at a run, scaled it nimbly (you would have been impressed at my agility) and then I ran across the garden. Behind me I could hear their voices as they looked about. Then I heard Maximus shout "He went over the wall!"

Fuck -busted! One chance left. I jumped and caught the drainpipe at the side of the house and was up it faster than a rat. Some might say we have a lot in common, rats and Cullen Murphy, that is. The pipe was a pretty precarious foothold; the night was icy and it was already glistening with frost. But I made it to the first floor and edged along the coping towards the window of a bedroom that appeared slightly open.

"He's going for Esme's bedroom!" Curry shouted from below and the men charged after. How did he know which room was hers? I pushed up the sash window and stuck one leg over to climb in. There was a woman apparently asleep in the bed.

The noise of my abrupt arrival startled her and she jumped up. She was only wearing a little strappy top as far as I could see. I made a mental bet with myself that she only had on thongs underneath. Even under duress, I am unshakeable in my aptitude for having an erotic thought every 60 seconds.

"Who are you?" Esme gasped, scrabbling for the lamp at the side of the bed.

"S'okay, Esme...Santa said you'd ordered me for Christmas...He thought you deserved your present early..." I jumped into the room, turned round to salute my pursuers with a well-timed middle finger and closed the window softly. "I'll go if you'd rather...but...there are five men below who want to tear me limb from limb...I, however, would prefer to strip you naked and make passionate love to you all night... Your specs are on the bed side table. It's Cullen Murphy if you couldn't quite make me out...."

Six Angry Men

"Worked like a dream..." Curry chortled as the men stood beneath the window and surveyed their handiwork.

"Was there any doubt? With those five women, he never stood a chance and even a fool like Murphy wasn't going to take all of us on," Maximus observed.

"I could have picked him off that drainpipe if you'd have let me get a clean shot..." Cort mused, looking up. "...Still think that girl needs to take more care who she lets in her bedroom at night..."

"Well, you would know, mate..." Trask muttered with a sly grin. 

Biebe intervened before Cort could react to that dig. "But let's stay focused, men. Least we got what we wanted and so did Esme. Scared the bastard shitless while she got her Christmas wish. That was a great idea of Jeff and Paul's...wonder how they knew Esme had it bad for Murphy?"

"Girl talk. Mitchell and O'Gallagher got PhDs in it..." Curry added. "And Jessie had it sussed anyway..."

"I'm so happy for you all," moaned Bud White. "You got to flex your muscles...how come I got the shit end of the evening?" They laughed and slapped him on the back as they re-entered the pub.

"Get White a Scotch, he's had a rough night..." Biebe shouted over as the five women gathered round Bud, the real hero of the evening.

"Ladies...that is the last time I ever pull a stunt like that - even if the bastard deserved it. There was a moment in the john when I swear the little ratfuck was actually considering it. Then what the fuck would I have done?" Bud lamented.

"Closed your eyes and acted like a man...it's called taking one for the team..." Ann cooed. "And we would, of course, have been eternally grateful..."

Bud gave them a rueful look. "Oh no...I am not falling for that one...I am in no hurry to pit myself against this pack of hoodlums either..." he indicated their men. "Your thanks will be enough. Now who was it mentioned Scotch....?"

Meanwhile.....Lucky Lady #6 gets even luckier....

Sex.  It had been on my mind since I'd run into that tasty hunk of man coming out of the pub.  Or rather it was more on my mind than usual.  Of course, having learnt my painful lesson last time, this time round I was determined to keep my little fantasies strictly sexual in nature.  I'm not sure my old heart is up to another stomping.  No, I wouldn't let myself fall arse over kettle this time round.  Safer that way.  But I damn sure intended to indulge my every lurid fantasy.  And boy, did I have plenty.

They'd been brewing in my mind for days now.  What is it about this time of year that does that to a girl?  Maybe it's just holiday melancholy?  I feel more an outsider than ever, nose pressed against the frosty panes as I look in at some warm cozy image; good mates with glasses raised slapping each other on the back and singing bawdy Christmas songs, Mums with pink cheeked children pulling at her hands as they skip along, couples kissing and snogging in corners.   

Most times I am content to be alone.  The holidays are a bit tough though.  There's nothing like the picture of happy families gathered round to make a girl aware of the painfully empty spot by her side.  Christmas Eve dinner for one?  Waking on Christmas morning - alone.  Spending Boxing Day stuffing yourself with heaps of chocolate and leftover trifle... not that I'm admitting to that, mind.   

Well, all of that had left me feeling a bit chilly so I thought I'd generate a bit of my own heat at home.  Put all those fantasies of mine to good use by indulging myself in a really sensual evening.  Scented candles.  Posh wine that I couldn't really afford.  A new packet of fags.  (I still haven't kicked that bloody habit.)  A volume of tasteful erotica.  Smoky, exotic incense.  Mood music and the heat turned up so high that I wasn't even cold parading around in my other splurge this year- a ridiculously expensive bit of lingerie.  All of which made a great sensual backdrop for my fertile imagination. 

Having indulged myself, I went to bed with an odd sort of sensual fullness that was born of a gorging of the senses rather than sexual fulfillment.  I don't deny I gave myself the odd sexual caress now and again, but the evening wasn't about that as much as it was about luxuriating in that fantasy state where I wasn't alone.

I'm always still me at the end of it though, Christmas miracles or not.  Plain old Esme, a pumpkin again after it's all said and done.  Or am I mixing up my fairytales again?  Bah humbug.  It didn't stop me from asking both Santa and my Fairy Godmother the same thing I wish every year.  The thing that I've wished from God, the Devil and every empty bottle for the last decade, truth be told. 

Not another year alone.  

Please...

Isn't that just like my luck though?  Not only does the message take a flaming decade to get there, but somehow the ruddy thing gets garbled on the way.  I asked for Prince Charming and got a bloody prowler crawling in my bedroom window.  Pissing myself for Christmas?  Not exactly what I had in mind.  And then he opened his mouth and when that gorgeous soft brogue came tumbling out I wondered if maybe I hadn't gotten my Christmas Miracle after all.

He eyed my bed.  "There wouldn't be room in there for a poor cold man on a winter's night, would there?"

Nobody pinch me.

I don't want to wake up.

White Christmas?  

No chance.  

Try a Black Irish Christmas, complete with all the trimmings.

You ever known a girl to get an early present (in such a fine package!) who didn't try to unwrap it? 

Winter wonderland, here I come...