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Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire, United Kingdom - 07800887857 rachel.roussell@gmail.com

Copyright Rachel Roussell 2019

Little stories for thought

To Be Tallulah

Confessions of Tallulah Brooks

To Be Tallulah - chapter 1 

‘Hell…o? I know it’s a bit late in the day for confessions.’ I said.

‘Sorry to turn up like this.’ I apologised for my midnight intrusion as I kicked off my Jimmy Choo stilettos.

‘Thank god they’re off. My bloody feet were killing me.’ I rubbed my sore feet and dabbed the bleeding graze on my knee that I had got from climbing through the vestry window.

‘I’m surprised you’re still open for business at this time of night.’ I said and then I topped up my champagne glass.

‘Cheers!’ I thought it only polite to acknowledge my listener on the other side of the screen whilst I enjoyed my bubbly.

‘I presume this little chat is free.’ I said because all I had was my credit card and I didn’t want to continue talking to him if he only accepted cash.

‘How do I start this confession thing? Do I say that I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me god?’ I tried to sound sober but I don’t think I did.

‘Oh flipping heck, I’ve spilt champagne on my dress.’ It was my favourite black Karen Millen dress and I noticed a rip in it above the graze on my knee.

‘Bollocks!’ I was devastated. My Karen Millen dress was dead and damaged beyond repair.

‘Oh hell. Where do I start with my confessions?’ I was really struggling to string my words together at that point and I think there was an angry silence from the other side of the screen.

‘Hell…o, hell…o, hell…o.’ I said in a silly drunken voice hoping for a reply.

For a split second, I did wonder if there was actually anyone on the other side of the screen but then I thought…no, surely God’s little helpers should be available twenty-four seven.

‘Is there a time limit for this confession thing?’ I asked.

The two bottles of champagne that I had drunk earlier that night finally registered and then I lost consciousness. 
  

The next morning…..
 

I heard a door open and then shut.

‘How long has it been since your last confession?’ A voice said and then I opened my eyes.

‘What?’ I was confused. Where was I?

‘How long has it been since your last confession?’ The voice asked again.

‘God I feel like crap.’ I opened my Gucci handbag, took out my box of paracetamol and threw two tablets down my neck followed by a swig of flat champagne.

‘How long has it been since your last confession?’ I thought the voice sounded husky and quite sexy.

‘Ok, I heard you the first time.’ I sat up and popped a chewing gum into my mouth. I applied lip gloss, rearranged my hair and then squirted myself with Chanel perfume.

‘Well…Last week I confessed to my cheating ex-boyfriend that it was me who ran a key down the side of his brand new Mercedes.’ I said.   

   

‘God I’ve got the hangover from hell.’ I opened my make up bag and applied enough foundation to hide the black bags under my eyes. I wasn’t wearing my watch and my mobile phone was dead so I had no idea what the time was.

‘Let’s get down to business shall we so I can go back to the Ministry of Sound.’ I told the voice.

‘The Ministry of Sound? At eight o’clock in the morning?’ He asked.

‘Jesus, is that the time?’ I tried to reenact the last twenty-four hours in my head.

Work, home, got glamorous, pub, club, climbed through a window and sitting on the floor in a confessionary box.

‘Ok, here we go. In a nutshell, I am a self-confessed tart.’ I said.


‘Oh dear.’ The voice said.

‘I had a one night stand twice and I was so bitterly disappointed by both performances…

I flirted outrageously with a man who I eventually had text sex with then found out he was married…

I went on a singles holiday and got seduced by a tangoed Spanish version of Michael Bolton…

An eighteen-year-old waiter asked me for my room number and of course, I gave it to him, tips and all… then at the evening entertainment, I was dragged up on to the stage to assist a sword swallowing hunk, who, as it happened entertained me very well after the show.’ I took a breath.

‘Go on.’ The voice said.

‘And then there was the speed dating. I sped through fifty percent of the men within a month. Dates, dinners and some breakfasts! Marco the arms dealer was the best looking out of the bunch but when he got out his collection of weapons, I ran a mile…Then there was the bad man, the alcoholic woman beater, the sob, sob, I need rescuing creep…

God, I even got off with my dog breeder…Internet dating is a dangerous sport I’m telling you now. I thought I was going on a date with a tall gorgeous mountain climber but when I met him he was a short spider man. He had more hands than any guy I know and he took touchy-feely to the next level and even tried to hump me in front of the lions in the zoo.

Yes, we went to the zoo on our date and he took his son. 

And finally the bastard cheating boyfriend with the Mercedes. I confess to it all.' I concluded.

‘Jesus Christ.’ The voice said quietly.

‘Pardon? Are you allowed to say that?’ I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly.

‘Bless you my child, you have been busy.’ The voice said a little sarcastically.

‘And that was just in one year. I have more I could tell you.’ I told him but I felt slightly ashamed.

‘Shall we talk about impure thoughts now?’ I said I thought I might as well cover everything whilst I was there.


‘I’m not sure.’ The voice said.

 

I think the voice was in shock and disappointed in me.

‘Anyway, there’s this man.’ I ignored the voice's lack of interest.

‘He lives in my apartment block and I see him in the elevator or on the stairs sometimes. He seems quite shy and he doesn’t say a lot.’ I said.

‘He most probably can’t get a word in edgeways.’ The voice said quietly.

‘What?’ I wasn’t sure if the voice was supposed to say things like that to me.

‘Go on.’ The voice said.

‘He has short brown hair and gorgeous deep blue eyes. He’s tall and strong-looking with a great butt.  

God, I’m having impure thoughts right now!’ I said and I paused to picture him in my mind.

'However, he has a very unusual taste in footwear. I'm into shoes and I notice things like that.' I told the voice.

‘He always wears burgundy Loafers and they are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen. I have no idea what he does for a living but he has a beautiful smile.’ I started to sound dreamy.


‘God I need a wee. I’m going to have to go now, thanks for the chat.’ I said.  

                        

‘You could really do with hanging an air freshener in here you know.’ I told the voice.

I grabbed my Jimmy Choo shoes and stumbled out of the confessionary box. I sat down on a chair and leant forwards to put my shoes back on.

‘Excuse me, you left your bag.’ The voice said.

I didn’t look up straight away because the first thing I noticed was the voice’s shoes, they were burgundy Loafers.

As I stood up I realised the man in front of me in his burgundy Loafers was in fact the priest. He had short brown hair and gorgeous deep blue eyes, he was tall and strong looking. I was so embarrassed and for once in my life, I didn’t know what to say.


‘Hi. I’m Tallulah Brooks.’ I said eventually.

‘Good morning Tallulah, welcome to the church and I am Father Jonathon Andrews.’ He held out his hand for me to shake it. 

 

He was the voice.

He was the man from my apartment block, the man in the elevator and on the stairs.  The man with a beautiful smile.

‘God works in mysterious ways.’ I said without thinking.

‘Yes he does.’ Father Jonathon Andrews said.

‘Does God let you have a coffee break?’ I asked.

‘Yes he does and he highly recommends the Costa Coffee across the road in an hour.’ He said with his beautiful smile.

‘Good, see you then Father Jonathon Andrews.’ I turned around, walked out of the church, took off my Jimmy Choo shoes and ran back to my apartment.

One quick hot shower and turbo hair drying session later, I slipped into my Calvin Klein underwear, Gucci shift dress, Prada shoes and went to meet one of God’s sexy little helpers.

Chapter 2: Tallulah Does Turkey - read below

Tallulah does Turkey

To Be Tallulah - chapter 2

'OMG, this boat is tiny.’ I said lifting my Gucci sunglasses to get a proper look at the yacht.

 

‘Where’s the bar?’ I asked an extremely large man who smelt of fish and was wearing a ‘Singles in the Sun’ t-shirt with ‘crew’ written on the back.

 

‘I thought the boat was going to be one like Kate Moss would go on, a big one that was fast, sparkling clean and expensive with a crew of tanned male slaves.’ I told the fishy man who laughed in my face. I was sort of joking.

 

‘Tallulah Brooks.’ I said and I put my hand out to shake his but he walked off. Rude!

I finished drinking from my Evian water bottle which contained a gin and tonic with crushed ice and I was just about to turn around and flee back to the hotel to enjoy happy hour when a vision of beauty appeared before me.

 

‘Merhaba beautiful lady.’ The vision said and I couldn’t speak but I instantly knew that I did want to sail on the little white boat after all.

 

‘Welcome to my singles in the sun’ cruising yacht.’ The vision said with a beautiful smile and eyes like deep pools of turquoise water twinkling in the sun.

 

The drop-dead gorgeous person that stood before me was a Turkish, sexy, hunk of a man who wore a ‘Singles in the Sun’ t-shirt with skipper written on the back. The t-shirt clung to his torso showing every ripple of muscle and I was mesmerised by him.

 

In the golden sun with the glistening sea behind him, he shone like a god.

‘I am Ahmad your skipper and yours for the day beautiful lady. This is Burak, my second skipper.’ He said with that twinkle in his eye and that million-dollar smile.

 

Burak, the extremely large man who was sweating like a pig and looked like a burnt lobster took my luggage.

 

‘A suitcase for a day sail?’ He asked with a sarcastic tone and his sweaty hand touched mine so I took an anti-bacterial wipe from my Prada handbag and removed his body fluid from my skin.

 

‘Tallulah Brooks.’ I introduced myself to Ahmad my Turkish dream boy and then I deliberately let my sarong fall to the floor revealing my Calvin Klein gold micro bikini and my new pert 34 d’s. Mummy and daddy had bought them for me for Christmas.

 

Ahmad whistled and undressed me with his eyes which didn't take long because all he had to remove was my Calvin Klein gold micro bikini.

 

He watched my bottom as I struggled to climb on board in my gold Jimmy Choo stilettos and Burak the burnt lobster let out a painful cry when I scratched the deck with my heels. I thought it was rather silly to get like that over a boat, it was just a few little scratches.

‘I will have a gin and tonic with ice and a slice please.’ I said to Burak and moments later he came back seething with anger and handed me a glass, a bottle of cheap gin, a bottle of tonic and a bag of ice.

 

‘Gin and tonic your majesty.’ He said with an unnecessary and rude tone.

The next thing I remember was waking up with Ahmad leaning over me getting ready to perform CPR. He slowly moved his strong hands down my breasts and I tingled as his lips pressed on mine.

A voice interrupted my moment of heaven.

 

‘Is she OK?’ I heard a squeaky and common voice ask and it appeared to belong to a human-size Barbie with long flowing hair and 34 f’s! I hated her instantly for that.

 

‘Oh crap.’ I said rubbing my sore head and feeling a lump.

 

‘What the flip happened?’ I asked Ahmad my Turkish hero.

 

‘You fell over a fender and hit your pretty head. I think it’s best you remove your shoes Tallulah.’ He said.

 

The Barbie plastic helped Ahmad to lift me up and lean me against the mast.

‘Paris Diamonte.’ The Barbie introduced herself and held out a perfectly manicured hand.

 

‘Beauty therapist to the stars and I broke up with my boyfriend Gerard last week so here I am looking for Mr Right again.’ She giggled and it annoyed me intensely.

 

‘You should really wear sun factor fifty on your face Tallulah, it’s burnt already. You will end up like a prune.’ Paris said with the whitest teeth that I had ever seen.

‘Great.’ I said under my breath and hating her even more when she removed her skimpy denim shorts which revealed a pink sequin thong bikini. Ahmad savoured the view of the perfect, pink goddess.

‘Merhaba darlings.’ A woman said as she climbed onto the boat holding a cocktail glass.

 

She was a woman after my own heart I thought to myself as I looked down at her Viva La Diva stilettos.  

 

‘I’m a first aider darling, step aside, I will deal with this.’ She said confidently and then she poured water down the back of my neck, checked my pulse and offered me some of her cocktail.The attention went off me and I wasn't happy about that.

‘Would everyone like to gather around so we can introduce ourselves to each other and can I ask the three ladies to remove their shoes? It’s dangerous on a boat and I don’t want to lose any of you.’ The perfect Ahmad said and he looked directly at me with his ‘I’m going to take you to bed eyes’ and, in my imagination, I was already there and the bedroom scenario was hot, sticky and passionate. My naughty thoughts were interrupted by a hawk-faced skinny man.

‘Raymond Karlsen.’ He said.

 

‘Chairman of the Royal Yacht club back in the UK. I’m a solicitor, divorced, two children; Penelope and Hugo and my favourite past time, apart from sailing obviously, is cricket. I've played at Lords you know and I insist that you three beautiful ladies wear life jackets and sailing gloves.’ He said in a very well to do manner.

‘Screw that.’ Said the Barbie and she poured herself a glass of warm Pinot and Marjorie agreed with her.

Burak looked at everyone as if they were raving loonies and the lady with the cocktail glass pushed him to one side.

‘I’m Marjorie Daws my darlings. Single and on the search for love. I’m an air hostess, first class of course and just done a trip from Thailand and my feet are killing me. Any chance of a sex on the beach skipper?’ She asked my Ahmad and it was a shame because I had liked her up until then.

Another sweaty body reached out to shake my hand. ‘Gary walker, an executive car salesman, still married but seeking a divorce from a money-grabbing bitch, she’s wife number four.’ He laughed like a pompous twat.

 

‘Any chance of a cold beer matey?’ He asked Burak who handed him a warm can of Budweiser.

‘Good morning. My name is Keith and I am your captain for today.’ Everyone turned around to see a man in pink shorts, wearing bible bashers with socks.

‘Whoops done it again, old habits and all that.’ He said in a jolly manner.

 

‘I’m a retired captain seeking a woman of my dreams any of you young ladies want to apply for the job or are you lesbians?’ Keith asked and Gary choked on his Budweiser.

 

‘Sailing is a similar concept to flying ladies so you have no worries today if the skipper was to suddenly go overboard.’ He said and everyone gave a nervous smile.

‘Nut case.’ I whispered to Gary the executive car salesman.

‘Don’t I know you?’ Marjorie Daws the air hostess recognised Keith straight away.

 

‘No.’ He said defensively.

‘Yes I do. You’re not Keith, you’re Steve Langley. You’re Mary’s husband, she’s cabin crew. I’ve just finished a shift with her, you’re not single. What are you doing here?’ Marjorie asked him.

Keith/Steve went the same colour red as Burak the lobster and he got off the love boat' and ran in the direction of a taxi.

‘One down, five to go.’ Burak said under his breath and then he went down into the cabin to get more warm bottles of Pinot and Budweiser.

 

I asked Ahmad where the best place was to get maximum sun and he laughed at me, I don’t know why. When he laughed I fell even more in love with him because he looked perfect and had a sense of humour.

 

I placed my towel on the deck by the hatch so that I would be in direct view of Ahmad when he stood at the helm. Suddenly there was a cry of agony and I swore blind that it wasn’t my fault when Paris had tried to squeeze next to me so she could be closer to Ahmad but unfortunately she fell down into the cabin.

 

‘It’s a broken ankle.’ Burak said calmly and with a smarmy smile.

 

Twenty minutes later Paris the beauty therapist with her 34 f’s and pink thong bikini was taken away on a stretcher.

 

‘Two down, four to go.’ Burak said under his breath and I started to think that perhaps he was evil. Evil and smelly.

 

I grabbed two bottles of warm Pinot and put them in my beach bag for fear he may try to poison my drinks.

 

‘Actually, three down, three to go.’ I told evil Burak.

Gary the executive car salesman had decided to go with Paris in the ambulance just in case she needed help with anything.

 

Raymond, Marjorie and I sat in the cockpit with life jackets on. I wasn’t happy because I didn’t want to have strap marks that could potentially ruin my tan.

 

‘Ready to slip?’ Ahmad shouted to Burak.

 

‘Ready.’ The nasty Burak shouted back and the yacht moved away from the pontoon like a floating leaf.

The view of the mainland was breathtaking as we sailed off into the millpond ocean. I looked at Ahmad whom I think was actually falling in love with me already even though we had hardly spoken.

 

I felt the warm breeze on my face and thought bollocks to safety! I took off my life jacket and a laid on my towel on the deck and soaked up some rays, turning my head occasionally, checking to see if Ahmad was watching me and of course he was.

 

‘Better come back to the cockpit Tallulah because we are going to adjust the sails.’ The gorgeous skipper instructed me and I did as I was told.

It was amazing how quickly the weather changed. The bright scorching sunshine was hiding behind some very dark clouds and the breeze turned into wind, the wind turned into gales and Ahmad told me I had to wear my life jacket and go into the cabin. They never had conditions like that, it was bizarre. Ahmad said it was an angry sky and the gods must have decided to kick up a storm. It sounded very dramatic but I just agreed with him and pretended that I wasn't afraid.

 

‘Piss, bugger, crap!’ I exclaimed as my suitcase slid off the bow of the yacht into the crashing waves.

 

‘Please put a clip on Tallulah.’ Ahmad shouted masterfully. 

I felt something tug at my life jacket and yet again Burak the evil one touched my skin as he put on my clip and I nearly wretched at his armpit stench.

 

‘The storm will pass in about half an hour everyone!’ Ahmad shouted. He was like Sinbad the sexy sailor.

 

I was fed up, I had a clip on and I was covered in Burak’s sweat. I was sober and Marjorie and Raymond were getting off with each other at the other end of the cabin.

I made a telephone call to mummy and daddy.

‘Mummy, it’s Tallulah. I think I’m going to drown. I’m on a yacht somewhere in Turkey and the waves are crashing down on the boat just like in the film ‘The Perfect Storm’ and there is a nut case smelly crewman called Burak and I can easily see this whole thing turning into the film ‘Dead Calm’ and him killing me with a harpoon.’ I told mummy and I began to sob.

‘It’s OK Tally. Daddy will know what to do. I will call you back in a minute.’ Then my phone went dead.

 

In my despair, I opened a bottle of Pinot and didn’t bother with a glass. By the time I finished the bottle my telephone rang.

 

‘Tally it’s Daddy. I spoke to the coast guard and the Embassy and they are sending out the lifeguard to collect you.’ He said reassuringly but we got cut off.

 

I opened another bottle of Pinot and suddenly the waves didn’t seem to be so big anymore. It could have been the wine numbing the fear I suppose.

Raymond ran to the toilet and threw up and when he finished I offered him a glass of Pinot but he thought that it was best that he didn’t drink. Marjorie stayed with him, offering him water and helping to mop up the sick that had missed the toilet as the boat swayed from side to side. Burak came down the steps and glared at me with his murdering eyes.

 

‘We have just had to cancel a request for air rescue Miss Brooks. Apparently your father rang the Embassy and the coast guard.’ He snarled at me.

‘Feeling a little sick Raymond?’ Burak asked the hawk-faced man who had his head stuck down the toilet again.

 

‘We have a puker down here!’ Burak shouted up to Ahmad who was still concentrating on the waves.

 

‘How long is it until we get back to shore Burak and do you think we could loop first to find my suitcase?’ I asked.

 

‘We are a long way from shore and no your bloody suitcase will not be found.’ He told me.

I don’t think I have ever hated someone as much as I hated him. My favourite Jimmy Choo shoes were in that Gucci suitcase.

 

‘Fine!’ I snapped at him and opened the third bottle of Pinot. The wine was really starting to take effect now and I felt very mellow, nearly unconscious. I could see a boat fast approaching us, it was a blurry boat.

‘Raymond and Marjorie your lift is here.’ Ahmad shouted down and the two of them scrambled up the stairs and onto the lifeboat.

 Ahmad asked me if I wanted to stay on board. I said yes hoping that he and I were going to be spending a lot of time with each other during my week’s holiday in Turkey.

 ‘Five down, one to go.’ I said to Burak and then I searched the yacht for a harpoon in a drunken stupor.

 ‘Fancy a glass of Pinot Ahmad?’ I asked him as I staggered up the stairs and nearly went flying over the side of the boat. Burak grabbed me and threw me back into the cockpit and I broke a bloody fingernail.

‘Man overboard!’ I heard Ahmad shout. 

 

I reached for the radio but paused. If it wasn’t Ahmad that went over then it must be the evil Burak which could be a good thing.

 

‘Tallulah do a mayday!’ Ahmad shouted even louder. I tried to remember everything that Ahmad had told us before we sailed away from the harbour.

 

‘Bloody Burak!’ I shouted and then I decided I was going to save him if only to impress Ahmad.

I went below deck, grabbed the radio, followed the list of instructions and then took the boat hook up on deck. Ahmad was pointing in the direction that Burak had fallen overboard. 

 

I threw the life ring into the sea and then the epirb thing and some rope which was pointless because I hadn’t attached it to the boat. I could see Burak as Ahmad bought the yacht around towards him.

 

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Ahmad shouted as I used every ounce of strength to push the life raft into the water. It made a really loud noise and I screamed.

 

‘No! Not that!’ Ahmad shouted as I threw in the grab bag too.

 

‘Oh crap! Wasn’t I supposed to do that?’ I shouted back at him.

Burak was bobbing in the waves next to the yacht, he was totally calm with his life jacket inflated. I swung a fender down for him to use as a buoyancy aid because he had missed everything else that I had thrown into the water. Even the life raft, god only knows how he could have missed that big thing.

 

‘Oh crap! I think I have knocked Burak out with that fender thing.’ I told Ahmad who told me to get on the helm whilst he dragged Burak out of the water.

Fifteen minutes later I had opened another bottle of Pinot and was wrapped in a blanket with Burak trying to use my body heat to warm him up. We returned to the harbour and Burak got taken away in an ambulance.

My Ahmad turned around as he waved off the ambulance and then he held me in his strong arms.

 

‘You were very brave Tallulah.' He said looking into my eyes.

 

'Yes....you have just cost me a fortune by throwing every possible thing that you could get your hands on into the sea but you saved Burak.' He paused.

 

'Although you did knock him out with the fender and steer the bow of the boat into his head but he will be fine.’  Ahmad told me but I really couldn’t understand everything that he was saying because the Pinot had consumed me to the point of no return that day.

Chapter 3: On and off the piste with Talllulah