Frankie Lassut

Bed, Knobs and Groom Tricks 2, Sleeping On the Job. (Erotic Distractions, #10) (eBook, ePUB)

• Format: ePub

Produktbeschreibung

Learning the lesson from the first book, Dubai, I left the toilet door ajar this time and a draught closed it. The last book (Dubai ... well, did you? Dubai it? LOL!) is out there doing its thing, so now, locked in the loo again, I may as well start part 2. I haven't got my jewel-encrusted jeans on this time, just my Y fronts and the weather has turned. The chill from the lino has risen from the lino to my knee caps, which makes it hard to concentrate when scribbling this new story down. To combat possible exposure, I wrap soft loo roll around my knees, and then call the locksmith ...
Twelve hours later. Story going well, must get a heater in here ... and maybe a little stove so I can make a cuppa (tea, coffee, sugar, a spoon ... the temp now should keep the milk ok for a few hours). All I need now is a huge spider to come out of ... (must stop thinking negative thoughts).

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Produktdetails

• Verlag: Frankie Lassut
• Altersempfehlung: ab 18 Jahre
• Erscheinungstermin: 17. November 2013
• Englisch
• ISBN-13: 9781910103104
• Artikelnr.: 46922119

Autorenporträt

I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!
I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn't see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don't really want to hear about it, it's depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a 'job' quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob 'job'! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a 'job' (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that's called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I'd be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we'd have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.

I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can't remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I've always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that's all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy 'you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel'. The bus station management weren't pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.

The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that's an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by ...