Merry Christmas, Tara

The postie looked as if to say another batch has found its way. So many cards to just one place it really is, I think a case of working nights and then all day, today though comes a special card, a lass from Britain, (writing's smart) dispatched a rather pretty one, well Merry Christmas, gotta run. The card was, as the postie had with nosy eyes (they're going bad) discovered, of good quality and handsome writing I could see. I opened it just when the spouse came out, in aprons, from the house. So, who is Tara, an old flame, it seems I have not heard this name? ! To complicate and heat up matters (the day was almost then in tatters) sweet Tara had placed xxx behind the name, so spouse smelled sex and sniffed the air for perfumed scents thank God the envelope had vents! Most of some sweet, erotic fragrance had dissipated like sly vagrants through slots where Tara had not kissed the glue and thus cold winds had hissed so freely in and out in flight so it smelled neutral which was right. And then, my eagle eyes saw scribbles that looked like peanut butter nibbles, I pointed duly to the spot and thus defused the heated plot. Dear Tara, what a lovely touch to make my day so bright, as such, next time though, please include some more I liked that fragrance, is it Dior? And Merry Christmas to you, dear a toast and lots of Season's Cheer. The opinions expressed above are not necessarily representative of the actual events. Sentiments, however, apply. Hugs and Kisses are freely available. Only the best for the best. HHN