tagCelebrities & Fan FictionWell Hidey Ho There, Jill Ch. 1

Well Hidey Ho There, Jill Ch. 1


Tim the toolman Talor opened the front door and hung up his toolbelt on the coathanger.

–Tiiim! Don’t put that ugly thing there! Jills shrill voice came in from the kitchen. –Put it out in the garage, with all your silly tools.

Tim raised his eyebrows. –Silly? Tim shook his head and rested his hands on his hips. Honey, a mans tools are an extention of himself, there’s nothing silly about them.

Jill smiled, would she never change him? Proberly not. And she didn’t want to either. –Well if you put those extentions away, and maybe I’ll let one particular extention in the bedroom tonight.

Tim grinned, looking like a schoolboy that caught a glimpse of the sexy substitute teachers panties. –Oh well in that case, he said walking to the garage door. –I have some work to do on the hotrod anyway. Give me a call when dinner’s ready ok? He passed the stove and glanced into the pot that was bubbling away. –Is that your chicken soup? He grimaced. -On second thought, don’t call me. I’ll get this hot rod finished and go out for drive through pizza.

Jill shot him a dirty look. –just go. She laughed. -I’ll call you when it’s ready and you better pretend you like it too. Or I’ll get up in the middle of the night and slash your hot rod tires.

–You see what I have to put up with? Tim called over to Randy who was watching tv on the living room couch. He looked back at Jill. –You know sweetheart, Wilson says back in the dark ages a woman wasn’t a real woman until she had learnt to obey and serve her husband. Maybe that’s something you should think about. Tim assumed his patented gorilla talk. –Oh yeah gotta obey the man, ogh ogh ogh ogh!

Jill laughed. –you are so weird!

Randy called out from the lounge. –Dad can I help on the hot rod?

–Sure son, Tim replied and the boys went out to play with their tools.

Jill checked on dinner, decided it was coming along nicly and went outside to hang out the washing. Over the back fence Wilson was cooking something on his barbeque. It smelled a little funny and Jill enquired about it. –Whatcha cooking there, Wilson?

Wilson put down his skillet and walked to the fence. He peered over, only his eyes showing. –Well, hidey ho there good neighbour, Jill. I'm just in the middle of preparing what the African tribes of the lower sahara call, Jumba-katcho. Or grilled desert snake.

Jill let out a long –Ewwwwwww! –You mean you're eating snake? Isn’t that poisonous? Wilson shook his head, looking at her with smiling eyes. –Not once it's cooked. You see the desert snake holds it's poison in the glands above it's fangs. Once you cut the head off, you get rid of the poison. Jill shuddered,

-No offence Wilson, but I think I’ll stick to chicken soup. I haven’t tried snake but I have a feeling I would like my soup better. She continued, -of course Tim thinks all my cooking tastes terrible.

Wilson shrugged. –Well Tim’s a simple man with simple tastes, Jill. And if you havn’t noticed he's a bit of a perfectionist.

Jill rolled her eyes. –Oh I know that, Wilson. If he ever accendently puts a scratch on that dam hotrod of his, Ill never hear the end of it. And you're right about him being simple as well. They both laughed. Tim was a good husband and a good friend, but not exactly the brightest bulb in the box. Jill put up a pair of her panties on the line and secured them with a peg. –Wilson can I ask you a question? She asked.

–Light my barbeque, good neighbour. Wilson replied, turning back to his grilled snake.
Jill turned to the fence and stood on tiptoe to look over. She still couldn’t make it and she noted absently what a big man Wilson was. –Did you tell my husband about women in the dark ages obeying and serving their men?

Wilson laughed, adding a splash of oil to the grill which spat and sizzled. –Jill, I only told him the truth. He asked a question regarding male and female relationships and I cited an example. In 16th century England one of the requirments of marrage was that the woman had to promise to serve and obey. In fact, as you know, the christian marrage ceremony today still includes the words, “to love and obey”, a variation on the original, “to serve and obey”. I was actually making the point that people have evolved in their thinking alot since those days, and that man and woman no longer think in those terms. He shook a salt shaker over the grill. –You know, Jill, I know some of the things I tell your husband might cause ripples of discourse at times, but I really try and give Tim useful information. I can't help it if he turns my words around.

Jill sighed. –I know Wilson, I know. He has a habit of seeing what he wants to see in things doesn’t he? She brushed the hair from her eyes. –Boy, I wouldn’t want to live back in the 16th century. Sure sounds like a lot of hard work for the women.

Wilson checked on the roasting snake and walked back to the fence. –Well, Jill, it was a lot of fun too. Regardless of what a lot of people read about the middle ages, they weren't all about battles and oppresion. In fact after a day cooking the husband his meals and cleaning his castle, the wife would usually be taken back to the sleeping abode and served in return, if you catch my drift.

Jill blushed, not knowing where to look. She was suddenly aware of an odd glint in Wilsons eye and it made her uncomfortable. She stood squirming for a moment, then made her excuses to leave. –Well I'd better get back to the troops. Nice talking to you Wilson. She grabbed the washing hamper.

Wilson called after her, –Listen, Jill. If you're interested in extending your cullinary palette, why not come over tomorrow around lunchtime? I'll be having snake leftovers. I'd love to serve you.

Jill stammered. –ser-serve me?

Wilson smiled, -sure, serve you some snake meat. What did you think I meant? Maybe you could be dessert?

Jill stared at the set of eyes watching her from over her back fence, her jaw hanging open. Did she hear him right? –What did you say? She whispered, feeling her colour rise. But strangly it wasn’t in anger.

–I said, maybe you could bring dessert? Wilson answered, his eyes twinkling. –I believe the african tribes enjoyed something sweet and juicy after their feasts.

Jill opened the back door. –Maybe, Wilson, maybe.

Wilson watched her leave, noting the way her tight jeans hugged her thighs. –mmmm mmm, he whispered to himself.

Back inside Jill served dinner to her family. Tim made the usual remarks about her cooking and joked about the dumb stuff Al got up to on the show. She tried to inject some intelligence into the conversation by way of discussing the collage classess she was taking. Tim tried to look interested but in the end he was eager to make his excuses and leave. The kids argued the whole time. Well her two youngest did, Brad who was growing up was a bit more reserved. When he got up to help clear the table she caught herself glancing at his crotch. She quickly looked away, hoping noone noticed. Noone did. Tim was telling one of his lame jokes and she would be required to laugh soon. Dinner ended and another boring night watching tv followed. Later that night Jill wondered what she would do tomorrow on her day off collage.

Part two soon!

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