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A funny thing happened to me the other day -funny peculiar that is not funny ha, ha.

I know you won't believe me. I can hardly believe it myself.

Well to cut a long story short, yes I know that's a cliché but you will have to forgive me I have to tell things in my own way or not at all.

Anyway, I was hurrying along trying to get to the shops before they closed when I bumped into - yes bumped quite literally, into a young chap. The long and short of it is (another cliché do shut up) he landed on the floor and I very nearly fell on top of him and that would have been a disaster, for him. I stared down - he was a long streak of nothing couldn't have weighed more than 9stn and I am more than - well let's say a lot heavier.

Anyway I helped him up and berated him for not looking where he was going. Attack being the first principle of self-defence I find.

Well blow me if he didn't fix me with his baby blue eyes and apologise profusely.

'I am so sorry', he said. 'Won't you come to my flat and let me make you a coffee.'

I was mortified, 'No need for that,' I said. 'No harm done.'

'Please,' he said. 'I live down the road and I haven't long moved in. You would be my first guest.'

Now I don't want you to get the idea that I am in the habit of going to fellows' flats for coffee - no, a G&T in a bar is one thing but a -te a te over coffee quite another.

But he pleaded and he was a nice looking fresh-faced fellow and to tell the truth I was keen to see the inside of one of these luxury flats. So I allowed myself to be persuaded.

I was somewhat dismayed when I found it had one of these security locks. I hoped it was easier to get out than in.

The lift was like a cage and my stomach lurched when it took off and sailed to the top.

'You're high up,' I remarked.

'Yes penthouse. The light is fabulous.'

Fabulous described the flat. The colour scheme was a riot of reds, yellows and greens- and plants- they stretched out leafy arms round the window frames and festooned the walls. They reminded me of 'The Day of the Triffids' and a chill ran up my spine.

'Do sit down and make yourself comfy while I make the coffee.' He went to the kitchen and I heard that glub-gurgle-glump that hotels use to convince you that fresh coffee is being made. I didn't sit down instead I investigated the room. His CDs were totally boring - all violin and orchestra and as far as I could see there was noTV just a tank full of funny shaped fish.

He brought in coffee on a tray with some of those peppermint matchstick chocolates. I' d rather have the round cream ones myself. Dead skinny with the coffee too - served in dolls' teacups. Mind you he did offer a refill but I refused. It was so bitter I began to wonder if he had put something in it - well you read about these things don't you?

'Would you like to see the bedroom?' He asked when we had finished

our coffee.

That sent the alarm bells ringing but if I refused he might turn violent. So I said, 'If you like.'

He led the way through the plants to a bedroom. The plants weren't real, just paintings on a door but you'd never guess.

So, I said to myself, this is where he keeps his television. The screen covered the right side wall and the bed faced on to it. The bed was enough to set my alarm bells ringing. No normal fellow would have a red duvet and black satin sheets and pillowcases.

'Do you want to try it?' He asked. 'It's electric and very comfortable.'

I edged towards the door. 'I think I'd better go now. Thanks for the coffee.'

'Oh you can't go yet you haven't seen my shower. It really is rather special.'

As you can imagine pictures rose in my mind of Psycho. You know that awful film where a girl is stabbed in the shower. My knees went all wobbly.

'Well just a quick look and then I must go' I said.

He pressed a button beside a painting of a sunset and the wall slid open to reveal a walk in shower with glass sliding doors.

'Watch,' he said kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks. He

walked in, then before you could say Jack Robinson he dropped his trousers and pulled off his jumper.

'Now just a minute,' I said.

He chuckled, 'It's ok I'll keep my bathing trunks on.'

I gasped. His so called bathing trunks were so itsy bitsy I reckon they'd have got him arrested at Skeggy except that he was such a skinny little runt. He looked like a little boy.

'Wait watch.'

He slid the doors together and water jets sprouted from the shower walls. I had never seen anything like it. I stood mesmerised.

The water stopped but instead of coming out he stood there and the glass doors got all steamed up. I wondered if he was ok and was thinking about dialling 999 when he stepped out.

'Feel.' He said.

I stepped back.

'Not me, my trunks.'

Reluctantly I put out my hand. Well I didn't want to upset him. He was quite dry.

'Would you like to try it?'

'Oh I couldn't - could I?'

'The bedroom door locks on the inside, you can strip off in there.'

The temptation was too great. It was fabulous. Of cause I kept my vest and knickers on.

. I told him I thought it was a bit of a fraud, as they still felt damp after I came out.

'If you stay you can use the clothes dryer.'

'Stay? Do you mean move in?'

'Yes. I am going away for three months. I need a flat sitter someone who will take care of my tropical fish.'

J. Fulford

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