there was a secretary at school every male desired, part of a crew of about 10 but she was a clear alpha, even discussed with Mrs as it’s been the theme of an ongoing joke over the years
i reckon she must’ve been late 30’s in the mid 1980’s, straight blond bob cut with a fringe, stop you in your tracks looks, red lipped heels clipping through corridors in black seamed almost-fishnets, the distillation of fertility to the extent her nickname (coined by my kind self) became Red Gash. I had visions of a puffy, swollen, moist feast of red gash nomnomnom out of my subconscious one lunch break
Some mates et al met her daughters at a squat party a few years later, first night on e’s and one of our less diplomatic spannered acquaintances blurted out ”your Mum’s called Red Gash because your man Murphy here is in love”
And I was very much in love with the full, aroused splendour of her glory for a brief period until you catch hold of what real desire is