A Doula Calls

A doula calls.

This morning I felt considerably rougher than I normally do after some Beer Saturday action.

Still, it was nothing that a man like me couldn't take in his stride.

So, after rolling about on my bed for half an hour mewling pitifully, I dragged myself up to face the world.

As I came downstairs and entered the lounge I realised three things.

One. It was much later than I thought because the clocks had gone forward.

Two. It was Mother's day. Fortunately, I had this one in the bag and had festooned the lounge with flowers for a certain good lady before going to bed.

And three, there was a strange woman in my house.

I don't mean it was the good lady on her moon cycle either.

I pulled my dressing gown tighter around my magnificently muscled frame and looked at this strange woman thing.

She looked back at me, a wild crow of a woman in brightly coloured clothing.

Good morning.

She said huskily.

You must be... Daddy...

Her lips twitched up in a crooked smile.

I raised an eyebrow. I will happily take the term daddy when used at me by my family but a random lady? And what was she doing in my house?

Was this a fairytale style dream? Should I get my penis out and suggest we stir a certain cauldron?

Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound as the old ones say. I have her a rakish wink.

Aye. That would be me.

Just then, the good lady bustled in from the kitchen with the little boom on one hip.

Damn, it wasn't a dream.

Hey Daddy-Bear, I see you have met Olette?

The strange woman did a half curtsey thing and smiled wickedly as if imagining pecking at my cooling corpse.

Aye, Olette, is it? Magic. Anyone want anything from the kitchen? I need some coffee.

I walked around the strange woman and the good lady and into the kitchen.

Coffee would be lovely Daddy-Bear! I'm just popping upstairs to get the little boom a fresh vest.

Trilled the good lady.

I huffed and started banging the coffee stuff together.

Oh yes. You have the Apple Cider Vinegar, I see.

The Olette startled me by gliding in behind me on unseen feet. She was pointing at a big green bottle on my worktop.

Yeah, I use it in my chilli paste.

I said casually. As if a strange witchen woman wasn't flirting with me in my kitchen.

You can use it for so many things...

Said Olette in a throaty growl.

Um, yeah. Smashing.

Said I, fiddling with some milk.

Olette placed the fingers of one hand on my arm.

I use it on ... everything...

She husked as if she has asthma and had just petted a particularly dirty dog.

Oh right.

I nodded.

At that point the good lady appeared brandishing a freshly clothed little boom.

All done!

She cried cheerily.

She took Olette away into the lounge where I could hear them chattering about boob-feeding.

I clutched onto the worktop.

Why did I just feel like I had been rescued?