Horror tale where a man’s obsession with sex starts to get the better of him!

“It’s all right for you!” insisted Terry, “you only live in South Melbourne.   If the worst comes to the worst, you can always walk in to work.   But living out in the burbs, there’s nothing I can do but wait in queue for an hour or more before managing to elbow my way onto a bus.   But even then the buses crawl along at half the normal speed, due to the roads being clogged with twice as many cars as usual.”

“So get up an hour or two earlier than usual, before the crowds come.”

“Then I’d have to waste an extra hour or two’s precious time each day.”

“Surely this new woman of yours can’t be such hot stuff that even an hour or two away from her side is going to hurt?   He snickered then added, “Or is it the front of her that you can’t stand being parted from?”

Terry flushed crimson as Magellan said, “She really must be hot stuff all right if you can’t…”   He stopped in mid sentence as Terry leapt out of his chair and started toward him menacingly.

“Calm down, Tare, it was only a joke,” apologised Magellan, quickly backing away toward his glass-fronted office, locking the small door behind him.

Blushing from embarrassment, Terry looked around at the five other clerks, all women, who were watching him with interest.   At first they had been offended by Frank Magellan’s sexist taunts of Terry, but gradually they had joined in the game.   But now they wondered if they had been playing with fire.   Terry Desmond was known to be a shy, quiet type, but Cathy Marsh, a middle-aged redhead, warned the younger girls later, “It’s often the quiet ones you have to watch out for!”

As the train strike dragged on, Terry was forced to spend ever greater amounts of time waiting in bus queues, until the waiting began to play havoc with his nerves.   And poor Miss Mandy would pine for her lover when he was away from her eleven or twelve hours each working day.

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