High Kick

"Mer-ry Christmas!"

It was the last working day before Christmas, and Gene was handing out what, Annie knew, could only be girlie magazines to his colleagues. There had been a raid on an unlicensed sex shop yesterday, and the Guv had appropriated several items of merchandise. Ray and Chris were looking as if Christmas had indeed come a few days early but Sam was feigning disinterest, drinking his tea and reading the same sentence of his paper over and over.

"A luscious redhead for you, Skelton, and a busty blonde for you, Tyler", Gene announced, thrusting an open magazine in front of his DI's paper. Sam choked on his tea, snatched the magazine away and shoved it in the bin under his desk.

"Coming to get some lunch, Lord Longford?" sniggered Gene.

"Later", Sam retorted, as the Guv, Chris and Ray exited the room. Sam tried to place the name – of course, the anti-pornography campaigner. Annie went over to Sam, took the magazine out of the bin and spread it out on the desk. "You get far ruder stuff in some of these girlie mags" she smiled.

"It's … this that really puts me off", said Sam, indicating the girl's crotch. Blonde she may have been but the cuffs and collars didn't match, and to Sam there appeared to be an inordinate amount of both. "My girlfriend in the 21st century always used to get a Hollywood".

"What's a Hollywood?" asked Annie. Sam whispered in her ear as he explained. Annie pulled back, incredulous. "Well, why would anybody want to do that? It sounds dead painful."

"It's quite normal where I come from," replied Sam. "And it looks better, or at least I think it does."

"I'd never do that for anyone," exclaimed Annie. "And why would your girlfriend want to look like a shop dummy? I don't understand it at all." Annie wandered out of the room, almost in a state of shock. What exactly did Sam demand of his girlfriends? Didn't he want them to look like grown women? One thing was certain – she'd never go through the pain of having that done.

"Sam, I think you need to be taught a lesson," she said to herself.

After lunch, Sam received a message from one of the plods that he was wanted in another office in another part of the building. Sam still didn't know his way around that well, so he asked the plod to take him there. Having said goodbye to the officer, who hurried away quite quickly, Sam knocked on the door. Being met with no replies, he went in.

The lights were on and the venetian blinds were closed. Seated opposite him on a windowsill was Annie, with her legs crossed, her skirt hitched up and the tops of her stockings on display.

"I've got you your Christmas present, Sam," she said. Sam went over to her, his face expressing intrigue. She was holding a small bottle of aftershave in her hand. "It's called High Kick," she told him. "In the advert, it says it's for the man who takes the rough with the smooth." In actual fact, the advert said nothing of the kind but Annie reckoned if Sam really was from the 21st century, it was quite likely he wouldn't know that.

"Well, I suppose I'd better try it on, hadn't I," he smiled but Annie held the bottle up out of his reach. "Oh no, some things in life you've got to earn. Step away a minute." Sam did as he was told, and Annie put down the bottle and uncrossed her legs.

"Annie! No way is this the 1970s – you've got to have seen Basic Instinct."

"Is that another kind of aftershave, then?"

"Okay, you've made your point now." Sam crouched down in front of her, and she stroked his head and held him steady.

In the gents, Sam had just washed his face and picked one or two stray hairs out of his teeth, and was now stood in front of a mirror slapping on the High Kick and making up a T-Rex style song as he did so.

"I love to take the rough with the smooth, honey, owh

I just love to take your rough with your smoo-ooth, yeah!" He paused to spit out another hair.

"You spitting feathers, Tyler?" asked Gene, suddenly wandering into the toilets.

"Just freshening up a bit," replied Sam.

"Ray's pinched your magazine with the blonde bit."

"He can have her."

"Oh, I get it," commented the Guv, as Sam spat out one final hair. "Brunettes more in your line, are they?"