All the girls at Vaysey Pastures looked forward to visits from young Kirk.
For some it was the sight of those chunky biceps or well-developed pectorals through a tight tee shirt. Others discretely enjoyed the impossibly pert posterior encased in denim.
Without exception however, they all adored the cleft in his chin and the cheeky grin which accompanied each flirtatious conversation.
Dorinda, Tiffany and their circle at the yard all chose Kirk McGurk to shoe their mares. Each tried her utmost to be present for his visit every six weeks or so. Pertinent questions were prepared in readiness on frogs and hoof-walls and the minutiae of cleats and stud-holes.
This afforded the adoring client a chance to clarify issues of concern face to face, whilst gazing with rapt appreciation into those pale blue eyes.
Kirk had to admit that business hadn’t looked back since he was persuaded to be Mr. April in the Farriers’ Charity Nude Calendar last Christmas. It’s amazing how powerful just some chaps, a shy smile and an artfully positioned vase of daffodils turned out to be.
Since publication and recognition as “the thinking equestrian ladies’ stud-muffin”, Kirk’s diary was always full. His many female customers seemed to engineer every possible opportunity to strike up conversations, as well as plying him with endless mugs of tea and Hobnobs.
Kirk responded to their advances cheerfully and developed a fine line in repartee. His one-liners and innuendo would have graced a Carry On film. No areas were off-limits for his jokey bonhomie which ranged from nights out and drinking to snogs and even naughtier activities.
The girls fell about giggling over the things Kirk came out with and all longed to be the lucky one he asked out.
After each visit the content of every suggestive conversation with Kirk was reviewed and dissected to appreciative laughter over coffee and Marlborough Lights in the common room.
Brownie points were won and lost depending on how risqué the exchanges had been. Kudos gained depended on the closeness each had sailed to the wind and the progress made towards the Promised Landfall of a date with Kirk.
Dorinda was generally acknowledged to be closest, but needed to crack it before departing to uni in the autumn.
As he drove his Mercedes van away through the rush-hour traffic, Kirk pensively patted his Cairn terrier Toto and wondered what his partner Roy was preparing for supper at home in the flat above his antique shop in the High Street in Broadhint.
If business continued to be so good, they would soon have enough saved to buy that bar in Sitges.