Part One: The Train
God! But she was beautiful in those days. Not that Jenni is any less beautiful now, but she was unbelievably stunning back then. Since though, time and the bearing and rearing of children have taken their toll. Jenni still is a very good looking woman, a little thicker than she would like, but all in all, very pretty for a fifty something year old woman. Her beauty goes further than the depth of skin. Jenni is one of those people who is just naturally lovely, without a mean bone in her and very few times has an unkind thought for anyone. It makes her popular and sought after as a friend.
Back in those days of our early marriage, when we didn't have the encumbrance of children or a mortgage or money worries, we just enjoyed ourselves, discovering each other and growing up. Halcyon days they were indeed and in truth, somewhat missed now.
Back in those days, Jenni's figure was 34" 22" 36". Her hair was, and still is, dark blonde. Her skin was flawless and glowed with vigour. Dark blonde lashes and a ready smile framed blue eyes that seemed to see beyond the norm. She was slender with medium sized breasts high on her chest. One has always been slightly larger and higher than the other. It is her deformity, as she laughingly puts it. She has and had what are called child bearing hips. She proved that to be wrong, never able to carry to full term. It proved fatal to our child on one occasion, but the other two have survived to be parents themselves. Jenni's hips were a feature of her figure and, given the overall package, in no way detrimental to the vision she was then.
It took me some time to learn how, but I have and still do, love that woman more than words could ever justify. In those days, we were just getting to know one another and fancied each others bodies to distraction, and why not? Screwing like the proverbial rabbits and discovering our bodies and what they were capable of.
We didn't have the encumbrance of children as I said earlier, neither did we have a car or very much money, but it was enough. Our weekends were spent going out, anywhere that took our fancy. Just pack some food in a rucksack, buy a couple of train tickets and disappear for the weekend.
This particular weekend was just one of those times when we left the rigours of work behind and explored the freedom of the country. I still have some old instamatic photos of our trip to Dorking in Surrey, my birth place. Occasionally, I look at the old and curled pictures and remember the day. One of the pictures is of her crossing a style into a cow field. The River Mole in the background. She was laughing her head of because she couldn't work out how to get her leg over. It is a great shot. She had a red and black collared top on that was closely fitted and accentuated her wonderful form. Her dark blue corduroy shorts showed her fantastic legs off to the full, but the smile radiates from the acetate and glows. It is a treasured photo.
We laughed all through the day. She got scared by the size of the Friesian cows that looked disinterestedly in our direction while we crossed their field. We made love on the bank of the river and as usual, it was over before it began. I suffered badly with premature ejaculation. It was a real problem then and very frustrating, fortunately, and filled with the clamour of youth, I was able to reload and the second time was far more gratifying, but hardly rocked her boat. Jenni admitted years later that she often wondered if that was all sex was about and wondered why she had been so scared as a girl.
We were still laughing on the train home, sitting in a musty carriage that smelled of British Rail's very own brand of staleness. It was one of those carriages that were connected with a side corridor and had separate booths along the length with blinds on the window.
I remember the conversation. I don't have a naturally retentive mind, but some things stick out through association. We laid a stupid bet, one that neither of us had any real intention of wanting to win or even try out, but as an argument will escalate to spiral out of control, so this bet gathered pace and fed on its own velocity. I bet Jenni that I could get the phone number of a complete stranger before she could. It had to be a member of the opposite sex and a five pound wager was placed between us. Five pounds was half of my wages in those days.
The train stopped at East Croydon which was a terminus then. Long seconds turned into even longer minutes and it looked as if we were to sit on the train for some time. The bet was set during that wait and opportunity being the mother of invention, was immediately taken up by both of us.
I admit to leering at the young girls who patiently waited for our train to pull out so they could catch a later one. I leered, cajoled and tried my best to attract any girl to become even remotely interested in me. My failure was spectacular especially when two girls openly pointed at me and laughed derisively. I even resorted to whistling at some ugly girl, desperate to win the bet. Her scorn was palpable and hit me hard. A man's ego is a fragile thing and so easily dented or even mortally wounded. I was wounded by the failure and gave up on the venture.
Jenni on the other hand, not only had a guy's phone number, but was entertaining another guy in the carriage. She told me later that all she did was flash her eyes at him and that was all she needed. My deflated ego had a hard time digesting that.
I really don't remember him too much. Probably, he was covered in spots with badly fitting clothes and halitosis. See, even now I am jealous.
They were deep in conversation, facing each other on opposite bench seating. She was leaning back with her arms crossed over her breasts; he was leaning forward and sat on the edge of the musty seat. If I knew then what I know of body language, I would have recognised her withdrawal from him, while he was exuding his willingness to get to know her rather more closely.
I slid the door open and in the slip second it takes to assess the scene, smiled at her. Jenni smiled back and flashed her eyes in triumph. She had won the bet in spades and knew it, but wanted this guy gone.
I sat next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. He got the message when she leaned into me and kissed my mouth. With no further word, he left us to the relative peace of the carriage and its eddying dust motes that swirled in the shafts of sunlight.
Unforgivably, I challenged her to double or nothing. I mean; how stupid can a bloke be? The answer is right here on the other side of the keypad of my laptop.
The result was a forgone conclusion and I had no chance at all. By the way reader, I should say that I am not ugly by any means. That isn't a boast on my part, please believe that. I was a reasonably good looking guy, slender and clear skinned with good hair. But, I may as well have been Quasimodo. In fact, he might have even scored before me.
So, I returned to the carriage, once again deflated in the ego department and found that once again, Jenni had scored and was entertaining another young guy. Instead of sliding the door open, I watched her at work on the poor sap. He was obviously smitten by her loveliness and it was obvious that he was having trouble keeping his hands off of her. For her part, she seemed to be rather more interested. She leaned forward towards him and her hands were animated as she spoke. He was also leaning forward with his hands clasped together, a scant inch from her bare knees that she held together. His eyes were almost a big as saucers as he took her face and body in.
I really cannot remember what he looked like except that he wore faded jeans and a jacket over a chequered, open necked shirt. I do remember the shoes though, because I have always wanted a pair of tan coloured suede dessert boots.
She looked over to me and smiled a conspiratal wink and I signalled that I would stay right where I was, observing the scene as it unfolded before me.
They continued to talk, their voices muffled by the grimy glass of the partition. Both of them expressing their points in pronounced flurries of expansive hand gestures that punctuated speech. Then he got up quite suddenly and sat next to Jenni and smiled her assent to his closeness. She turned to face him and glanced at me over his shoulder momentarily, then concentrated on his face. I watched as she folded one leg under her and stretched the other in a languid fluidity of motion. It was an open invitation, albeit subconscious, but an invitation none the less and he read it as such. His hand lightly dropped onto her knee and stayed there.
The train lurched into motion with creaking and the sound of shunting buffers. It picked up speed and left the station platform behind. I hardly noticed; my attention was totally enthralled at my wife and this guy whose hand was travelling ever so slowly up the outside of her thigh.
I could see her lips were parted and moist. They had become coloured slightly as they always did when she got excited. It acted like a beacon to me in our sex life, knowing that she signalled her readiness to couple in this way as well as other obvious signs.
They were still talking, although I couldn't hear what was being said, but her smile and the way she studied his eyes told me that his advance was not entirely unwelcome. His hand had continued to traverse over her thigh and was now resting on her waist. Then Jenni surprised me. Her animated hands suddenly grasped his face and drew him forward into a kiss that must have done similar things to his nervous system as it was doing to mine.
.... There is more of this story ...