Hot Stuff Day Two

By day 2 I could no longer resist from noticing a particular female human. The initial spotting of Hot Stuff was during my shift in the dish pit. The dish pit was an elevated trough where, during the course of the festival, thousands of lentil-caked apparatus were individually soaked, scrubbed, sanitised and swabbed. It was noteworthy that the dish pit was tactically positioned along the outdoor showers trail. Us poor dish pigs were regularly exposed to the never-ending meanderings of naked women as they made their way to and from the open-air bathing district. It was just implausible.

Working a double shift ensured I was given a daily dose of breasts, which was soothing in a remedial way.

On this particular second morning in the dish pit, I became quite lucid. Just as I was finishing off the final buff on a rather outsized soup ladle, a mortal of a most pleasing divinity happened to saunter down the path toward the breakfast pavilion. I tried to smother a Ren and Stimpy goggle-eyed tongue plunge, as I was concerned that my drooling might carve a new unnecessary watercourse. But it was useless. She was goddess-like. And I was ruined for eternity. The most suitable cliché would be that I was ‘struck by lightning’. And from that moment on every cell in my body was on a constant ‘high-alert’ in case she was nearby.

To Be Continued..