'Is this it?'
'Shuuuush, lovie.'
'Oh, you sly lad!'
'Let's get the night started, shall we?'
Two distinct voices echoed eerily through the ebony darkness - making the atmosphere ominous and adding a sinister air to it.
'Skipper.'
'Skipper!'
'Alright then, if you insist...'
'SKIIIIPERRRRR!!!'
Suddenly, an irritated-looking woman with a messy sand-coloured ponytail and faded aqua eyes bobbed into sight. With a frown embedded deep into her face, her lack of amusement was evident on her weathered features as she displayed no gaiety towards the lack of response from the person named 'Skipper.'
Waste of breath, honestly, she thought.
She should've known better knowing him.
'I was calling you, you know - you're supposed to respect your elders.'
It seemed Skipper had picked up on her impatience:
'Sorry hun - you know I was just winding you up,' the (terrified) man responded after finally making an appearance.
'That wasn't very judicious of me was it?' he questioned her.
'NO!' Shirley replied, stating clearly how she felt about the entire situation - (in her ocean-deep voice, probably scarring the poor guy for life).
'I'm sorry Shirl - I'll make it up to you - how about it?', the small 'man' cooed.
They linked arms and paced across the straw-coloured floor with Skipper leading the way; avoiding the barrels of intoxicating substance - alcohol, (that they are definitely going to be drinking later eyyy I got you ;)) , to reach their Pandora's Box.
A smile welcomed it's way to Jeffree Sta- I mean, Shirley's face; her wrinkles appeared even more wrinklier (if possible) and she laughed.
It was a strange laugh.
She rested her head and let her pent-up emotions run riot - thunderous howls bounced off the walls of the brewery - letting everyone know that Shirley was no longer restrained. She was free.
Now towering over the (now definitely petrified) 'man', she strutted over to the thing that had caused her so much joy.
It gleamed and glinted and winked at its mistress - it smirked at Skipper, who was shamelessly watching: mouth agape; brows burrowed into his receding hairline; eyes larger than saucers, and mocked him for ever thinking he could even have a chance with its mistress.
Skipper, drowning in incredulity and insecurity, finally stopped gawking like an oblivious goldfish and closed his mouth.
A pout appeared on his face - was he?
Yes.
He.
Was.
Jealous.
Of Shirley.
Of her mischievously running her hands all over it - serenading it - practically worshipping it.
The shining piece of lengthy silver.
A pole.
YOU ARE READING
The Lad Who Sneaks Through My Brewery Window
HumorMeet Shirley - a woman with a dream; a dream that is so forbidden and taboo that it forces her to hide who she is in the day - but by night it comes out to play... This is my first book so I'd appreciate it if you aren't too harsh on me :D - other t...
