Estelle - creative writing.

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Story `extract!

I am lying in bed listening to my ignorant house mate having sex again! All I can hear is 'Gur-unt, gur-unt, gur-untttt!', But I don't hear any female voices so I gather he’s

rubbish or maybe he's on his own?.

I DO NOT deserve my life, I really don't. I've never deliberately hurt anybody, I pay my bills on time, love my child and what do I get for a house mate; a complete pervert of a man who has sex with probably a different girl every night , YUCK !. Oh god I might have to go for a walk this is killing me.

I am glad Frank has so much sex to be honest well, someone has to don't they.

And it carries on until finally 'Hoooooooooo yes.Hooooooo yes.RAHHHHH.’ There’s silence.

Breakfast the next morning was kind of awkward obviously, i wasn't going to mention it but, having not had any sleep and waking up on the wrong side of bed changes all this.

'Morning Stella.' Frank beams, handing me a glass of orange juice. 'Sleep well?.'

i raise one eyebrow and give him a slow deliberate look, He understands it, and hot blush starts creeping up his celtically pale face. ‘Maybe you could very sweetly buy me a present,' I tell him sternly. 'What like a bunch of flowers?' he smiles. ‘I was thinking more of earplugs,'

I suppose you wondering how I come to be sharing a house with sex-obsessed ginger man. It's a bit of a long story, but I’d better tell it, and that way we'll have got the boring bit out of the way.

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My name as you will have noticed is Stella. It's really Estelle, but I got so tired of the mispronunciation I had to put up with daily - 'Ee-stell' , 'eh-stelley' , Es-tewell' even 'Esther'

I was brought up in Paris, because my father was French , but my mother was one of those stuck up English women who refuse to change their roots, I spent a couple of years at boarding school when mummy and papa separated, when I was fourteen. Still I made some nice horse-faced friends and became good at tennis so my time wasn't entirely wasted. ...

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