Don’t jump the gun; there is more to this story….

….she said that there are other means of payment, a kind of personal payment. I told her that I didn’t have a Bitcoin account, but, I could readily use a Paypal Gift transaction? My head was still swimming with those boxed Webley Service air rifles, let alone the many desirables that I would like to get my hands on. She seemed to be getting a bit angry at my coy naivety and ordered me to sit down by the now, what seemed very hot, log fire. Look, she said, if you want any of those desirables, you need to come up with the goods. You look like you have been around the block a few times she snapped, you know the score. I know you want to get your hands on them, I have seen that glazed look before in men.

After several glasses of wine, I didn’t know if my head was spinning with the effect of alcohol, or, those beautiful guns. I seemed to be slipping into a hazy, delirious mist of stupor, but, she was most attractive, especially when she spoke in a mildly aggressive manner. She must be younger than her late husband I thought, judging by his photograph on a nearby mahogany display cabinet holding what appeared a weapon of some significance. I would say she was middle to late forties. It seemed reminiscent of the most pleasing and eventful times I spent in Russia in similar situations, but, unfortunately those conversations never seemed to revolve around air rifles.

With the room getting hotter and another bottle of wine, I had to remove my Jack Pike, and I had a gut feeling where this was leading…..I’m an atheist and three hail Mary’s are not going to cleanse any potential dirty, unfaithful deed from my conscience, but, if I get my hands on those beauties, I can block out any misdeeds that may haunt me later.

I was starting to loose it, I’m hot, she’s hot, the room is revolving, I’m dribbling and need to put my half empty glass of Semillon down somewhere, where?…..Why am I here? It’s getting all confusing…..the mint and boxed air rifles, the collection, what the…..

She suggested we retire to the bedroom to seal the deal, you know you want to, she whispered….. To regain an ounce of composure, I suggested that I need to sniff the box and feel the contours of the MK1. I knew the distinct smell of old oil, the feel of the unblemished butt and solid engineering would sober me up some? ……

Awkwardly, and with some difficulty…………..