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"Oh woman of little faith, Dr Lucille is here to try to fix your marriage. Getting fucked at home is better than opening yourself to any stray that walks into the office."
Poking her tongue at Lucille Mo said: "Okay – bring on the solution!"
* * * *
Mo walking into the house called out, "I'm home darling; did you have you had a great day?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you sweetheart?"
"In bed, I'm bushed."
Mo frowned, gritting her teeth.
"I thought flying short route commercial wasn't physically demanding."
"It was today."
Mo went to the bedroom and kissed her wayward husband passionately.
"What was that for?"
"To remind you I'm your wife."
"How could I forget?"
Mo turned out the light and made the sound of two kisses and said she was off to watch TV.
During the night the wayward Harry woke to find something cold against his cheek. Turning the light on he found it was a carving knife, pushed right through the pillow and into the mattress. A note was attached:
Dear Harry
A friend offered to find me a business solution to the problem I have over your philandering but the suggestion she made seemed rather pathetic; I urged her to think deeper and said perhaps I wanted a psychological solution – and this is it. I love you, Harry, but if I ever again suspect you have been unfaithful to me I shall cut out your balls while you're asleep. Keep this knife under your pillow as a reminder that I mean business. Isn't she a honey for offering this fix? If you are willing to abandon adultery and wish to seek forgiveness, come into the spare room, wake me up and fuck me legless. It's been a long time.
Mo
Harry, who was as Mo had told Lucille rather shallow, leaped out of bed and rushed to the spare room, working up an erection with his hand as he ran in a mix of panic and desire to perform to receive accolades.
The next morning readers of the Sydney Morning Herald feature section were greeted by a large photo of the very attractive Lucille, surrounded by an in-depth story that revealed much of interest for people who read for enlightenment and amusement.
Others, however, thought differently and a couple of letters from such readers were published next day: 'We need the resuscitation of a women's fashion magazine as much as we'd want New Zealanders to beat us at rugby,' wrote on correspondent.
Another complained, perhaps dismissively: 'How can such a young female know so much about women's fashion – it's a scam; she was raised in an orphanage for god's sake.'
None of this bothered Lucille: the reaction she was aiming for was from potential advertisers and their agents. A handful phoned for further information.
The reaction was great from almost everyone at the office – not accurately summed up by Mo who grinning at the big photo of Lucille saying to her, "Nice tits."
Mo walked into the meeting room ahead of Lucille and holding up the feature demanded, "Has everyone read this marvelous article and accompanying piece about our current rejig of the mag?"
More Coming
