This weeks words: guardian, olive, straddle
“How long until ‘little miss guardian angel’ gets here?” I asked Jasper, defending my sausages from his thieving fingers. “Make some toast if you’re hungry!”
“Don’t call her that, Ellie. She’s doing you a favour.”
I shrugged. I lost my train of thought, working out a reply about the favour being the other way around, that I was an undercover officer, straddling the line of bad guys, good cops, danger, something.
Jessica arrived twenty minutes later. Petite with straight mahogany hair and kalamata olive eyes, poised even in her blue pyjamas-cum-uniform.
“Just wee into this,” she smiled.
Humiliation.
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