Best! Competition. And the winner is…..not me



Afternoon All! (Yes the photo is a bit misleading as it was taken last Autumn in the garden not in this Hurricane January weather. I am lazy and have recycled the same photo.)

I forgot to update you all on the winner of Best! Competition.

Well, to be honest I’m not sure who it was, I know it wasn’t me. I have been meaning to update you all on this, I was browsing the magazine shelves with my mum during the Christmas Hols and she came across Best! Magazine. She picked it up and we noticed that it had ‘Winner’ sprawled across the front.

Then it dawned on me I had indeed entered and had indeed lost.

Never mind, it means I can now share my entry with you lovelies. A bit of a cheese fest but can you guess which advert inspired it (yes I got the inspiration from an ad on the box.)

Here you go…

Breaking The Rules


Betsy spritzed herself with another layer of perfume, ensuring to catch the backs of her knees. This was part of her seduction plan, hoping the musky scent would mesmerise her date when she crossed her legs subtly towards him as she perched on her bar stool.

Her stomach fluttered at this thought and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

Not bad, she thought as she sat at her dressing table and added another coat of coral lipstick, a colour that was not only subtle and sexy, but complemented her skin more than her usual fierce red.

It had been a while since their last date and, as Betsy was out of practice, she felt like this was the first time.

She allowed her mind to wonder, to draw up a picture of Flynn, in his fitted designer suit with his distinguished salt and pepper hair. It was true what they said; men did get better with age, Flynn was living proof of this.

Despite their enjoyment and agreeing to do it more often, something niggled at her. Why had he taken so long to arrange to meet this time?

She tossed this thought aside as she ran the brush through her coiffed brunette hair just one last time before crossing the room towards the full length mirror.

The reflection that beamed back at her had a glow; a lovers glow. It had been a long while since she felt like this and she almost regressed to a giggling teenager about to embark on their first date.

The outfit choice had been a challenge. On her last few dates, she had stuck to her safe little black dress. Tonight, she wanted to be adventurous and had envisaged herself in her siren red number. However, after parading in front of the mirror for ten minutes, she strongly decided against it and was quickly wrapped in the safety of the arms of the black dress.

Besides, she didn’t want to frighten Flynn off. Her aim was to be sophisticatedly sexy.

Her mind cast back to their first date, how they had arranged to meet in the cocktail bar just off the high street. Oh how her legs had wobbled with nerves despite the glass of courage chardonnay she had drank whilst getting ready.

In her early forties, Betsy had started to feel invisible; heads would no longer turn to look at her, sinking her into life’s background.

Not that night. Following a trip to the hairdressers, her locks had been well and truly nourished; chopped, coloured and then blow dried adding instant shine and glamour. She had plucked up the courage to have her eyebrows threaded, which seemed to have worked wonders on the shape of her face, providing a sexy arch for her eyes to nestle under.

Betsy had allowed herself to have a free make-up consultation in one of the high street department stores, where she learnt all over again what foundation suited her, mastered the art of the eyebrow pencil and liquid eyeliner and discovered that coral was definitely more her lip colour than red.

The make-up modernise was the long overdue confidence booster that she needed.

A beep of the taxi horn broke her from her thoughts. She took one last sip of her wine, for luck she thought, and headed for the door.

“Lottie’s bar please, Tupperman Street please,” Betsy said as she slipped elegantly into the back seat of the taxi.

Lottie’s was the cocktail bar they had shared their first date in, drinking in each other’s conversation, lost in their own effervescence. An experience she desperately wanted to rekindle, fighting the fear that one day she may lose it.

The journey wasn’t far and within ten minutes, she had paid and was sliding her way through the bar, her heart pounding, hoping he was there.

Her eyes casually scanned the bar, her breath catching in her chest.

There he was.

Flynn had turned up, and in his suit as well. She felt her knees wobble slightly and she grabbed onto a nearby table to steady herself. Control yourself, she chided, you want him to believe you are a sexy, confident, sophisticated business woman. You are independent and in control, she repeated to herself.

Fortunately he hadn’t seen her yet, giving Betsy enough time to recover before strolling over to him.

He too was in his early forties. Perfect. His face exerted handsome laughter lines around his wise sparkly blue eyes, which unleashed a dazzling dance when he laughed.

Betsy realised that there was another set of eyes, a fascinating chocolate-brown set, staring at her from the bar. These belonged to a much younger man with jet black hair, whose gaze followed her and, when she caught those eyes, he nodded approvingly. She felt herself blushing, barely believing this male was looking at her, Betsy Jones, the frumpy forty-year old. However, it had slipped her mind that her recent Combat classes had provided her with a much more toned frame.

Flynn turned around from his seat at the bar and, on seeing her, stood up. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek; oh he smelt so good Betsy thought as she inhaled him.

“Good Evening,” he said in his sexy Scottish accent. “I took the liberty of ordering you a cosmopolitan. I believe it’s your favourite”

Betsy was touched that he remembered and thanked him for her drink.

As she settled onto her bar seat, she unfolded her legs, one over the other as planned and raised her glass.

Flynn was sat opposite her; his widespread grin embracing her, allowing her to relax into his company. He raised his glass, “You look beautiful,” then whispering, slipping out of character, “I am glad you agreed to do this”

Betsy raised her glass in agreement, knowingly breaking the rules to talk about; she replied “So am I.”

This stranger dating role play idea of her husbands had certainly rekindled their marriage

Love Missuswolf xxx

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