Mac seems mesmerised, almost like he doesn’t know where to look first. To be fair, there’s a lot of tit, ass and leg to take in, because Natasha’s all that and soft curves, too. She’s like Jessica Rabbit of the north. And as it turns out, her arrival is a good reminder of why Mac and I would never have worked. Even back then I realised I wasn’t big enough in the boob department for his tastes. And for two, he’s a complete dog.
‘Woof.’
Mac’s gaze darts to Ivy’s. ‘What was that?’
‘You heard,’ she replies. ‘What are you up to?’ she asks, directing her question to Nat, her eyes slipping bemusedly to the bucket, then back again.
‘I’m away to wash the front windows.’ It’s a talent that she even makes that sound sort of dirty. Grasping the handle of her bucket, she turns and saunters off in her sparkly heels, water from the bucket sloshing onto the floor.
‘That’s a health hazard.’ Mac’s voice is suddenly a little hoarse.
Does he mean her, or the trail of water on the floor? Like an accident that’s about to happen, we all turn to the wall of glass, sort of mesmerised by the view.
‘It’s baltic outside. How come the lassie isn’t wearing a coat?’
‘How come she’s washing the windows, more to the point,’ replies Ivy. ‘I pay a man to do that.’
‘Did she just slut drop that bucket?’ I ask, sort of horrified.
She dips the sponge into the water, wringing it out like it’s manna from jizz heaven. I half expect her to start rubbing it against her chest.
‘Can you send her ‘round to do mine next?’
At least Mac sounds only half serious.
