Neem

I had meandered into Green Spirit, grabbed a few things and had taken up position at the shops' counter along with the few oddments I wanted to purchase. Rob the Rastafarian was ahead of me in the queue (line) of two. 

Rob looked searchingly up at me, making firm eye contact and dabbing each of his facial cheeks (if you see what I mean) he said, “You look hot.”

“Wow Rob, I didn't think you saw me in that kinda way,” I replied, red faced from my exertions with the soil and grinning.

Brushing the comment away, he asked, “How's the gardening going?”

“Bloody tough at the moment Rob. I've been trying to rip up the Blackberry roots that are all over my vegetable plot.”

“Oh yeh, that is a gruelling job," he nodded, his brightly coloured Rasta hat 

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bobbed about on his kinetically charged dreadlocks, 

Image copied from drealocks web site: http://www.zimbio.com/Dreadlocks/articles/xtP7CFWw1kK/dreadlock+hairstyles

and continued, "You need Neem for that, it's what I use. I swear by it. Got some up at my place if you wanna come up with me now.” He put an arm around me, supportively. I felt hotter than ever.

“You put Neem on your Blackberries?” I asked incredulously; disarmingly. 

“No, silly girl, I put it on your muscles afterwards. Works a treat!” He flexed his hands as if planning to massage it in for me.

I paid up and left, having, first waited, like a tightly coiled dreadlock, for him to gain a head-start on me.

I mean to say, me a married woman, what would MeWally think?