Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Cheating, .
Desc: Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Mack is a young man who never really had much of a goal in life. Until he met the love of his life Lindsay, who he planned to marry and spend the rest of his life in a fairy tale world with. But then, we all know that real life rarely has a happy ever after ending. Codes will be added with chapters
I hadn't wanted to be there that evening. I really didn't know why I'd thrown in the towel and agreed to come. Especially as it was during the summer season, when the pub was very busy with holidaymakers. But, for whatever reason, I'd agreed to come up to town for this damned wedding. Well, it was Billy's wedding; maybe that's why I'd relented.
Look, I'd better explain. For the last couple of years I'd been ... what'd you call it? Estranged, yeah, that's it! Estranged from my family. Why? Well, because of Lindsey, that's why. Lindsey was the girl that I was going to marry. I'd been crazy about the girl for a good year or so, when it all turned sour on me. But the most important part of it all was that my mum, dad, both my sisters and my brother appeared to be even more infatuated with the girl than I ever was.
From the day they met her, they all thought that Lindsey could do no wrong. Hey, Lindsey and I did have a couple of bust ups in our relationship, but as far as everyone in the family was concerned, they were always my fault and I was pretty well badgered to apologise to her, until one of us eventually did.
Now, although I was pretty well crazy about Lindsey, there had always been a little bone of contention in our relationship that I'd never discussed with anyone, especially my family, and that was sex. Or rather the lack of it! Just after I'd met Lindsey she'd said those words that every red blooded young man dreads to hear. "No Mucky stuff until after we are married. I intend to walk down the aisle a virgin, whether you like it or not."
Now I can't say that I was over-enamoured to hear those words. How the hell are you going to know that you are sexually compatible with someone, if you haven't done at least a little experimentation? But all Lindsey would let me do was suck on and play with her breasts, but that was as far as things ever went.
Well, no, to be fair I did get the occasional hand job when I was a good boy.
Whatever, at the time I was crazy about the woman. So I pushed my better judgement (or maybe it was my hormonal needs) aside and put up with my near celibate existence for a long time.
Yeah, well, I say near because on the odd occasions when Lindsey and I did break-up for a few days, I normally managed to pull something out of the hat, somewhere. I had to take what I could get though, and watch my back as well. I'm pretty sure that if Lindsey got wind of my dalliances we'd have been finished for good.
But then we came to that fateful weekend. Sea fishing is my one weakness. Well, maybe it isn't the fishing; maybe it's more the messing about in small boats that I really enjoy. But fishing is an excuse to go out in the bloody boats in the first place, isn't it?
That weekend I'd driven down the coast to join a few friends on a weekend's fishing, only to discover that the weather had taken an unexpected nasty turn. An unseasonably strong wind had come up during the evening as we'd travelled down; blowing at least a force nine. On our arrival we'd been informed that there was no chance that we'd get out the following morning.
Most of the guys had shrugged their shoulders and headed for the nearest bar, but not me. If I wasn't going to be fishing or at least messing about in a boat, then I figured I'd return to town and spend my free time as I usually did, with Lindsey.
It must have been about ten when I pulled up outside Lindsey's flat, and I'd been somewhat taken aback that she wasn't at home. No, not so much taken aback, more annoyed; she hadn't told me about any plans she had for going out that evening. More to the point, she'd moaned at me about being alone and bored without me for the whole weekend.
I wandered around her little three-roomed flat, a quite large lounge come dining room with a little kitchenette in one corner. From there you went into the bedroom with its large double bed (not that I'd ever gotten near sharing it with Lindsey yet. When I slept over, as I did sometimes, it was the convertible couch for me in the lounge.) And then into the en suite bath and toilet with its abnormally large shower cubical.
I do believe that I was looking around the flat for some kind of clue as to where Lindsey might have gone that evening. Strange how we do that kind of thing, isn't it? What could an inanimate flat tell me about what had been going on in Lindsey's mind before she'd left to go out that evening? But surprisingly it did!
I happened to notice one of those pop-out pill packets, lying on the kitchen worktop. You know the kind of thing, a flat plastic packet with little bubbles that the pills sealed in behind foil. I didn't recall seeing them before at Lindsey's flat, but I did remember seeing something very similar before; it rang a bell in the back of my mind somewhere.
My curiosity piqued; I picked the packet up to make a closer inspection of it, turning it over as I did so. The moment I saw the other side, I remembered where I'd seen a very similar packet before. It had contained my sister's birth control pills. I could remember Julia making a big thing about going on them, two complete months before she and John got married.
I think the fuss Julia had made over those pills at the time was a vain attempt to convince my parents that she and John hadn't 'been at it like bunny rabbits' for donkey's years. Although I should imagine John was pretty pleased to get away from those bloody condoms that were forever spilling out the glove box of his car.
'Birth control pills', I remember thinking to myself. Then I found myself having one of those infuriating mental discussions with myself.
'What the hell has Lindsey got need of birth control pills for? Jesus, we never get anywhere near having sex... '
'Hold on, son, I'll give you that Lindsey and you, never get anywhere near having sex. But that doesn't mean to say that she doesn't have sex with someone else when you're not around, does it?'
'Let's face it mate; you've rocked a couple of girls' boats for them, when you and Lindsey had had the odd bust up. What's to say Lindsey hasn't got some randy little bugger hidden away somewhere who's giving her a good seeing-to, when you're not around?'
Well, that's the way my mind was working. I argued it, this way and that, for sometime before I decided that I bloody-well better find out what was going on one way or the other that weekend.
But first I had to convince myself that they genuinely were Lindsey's pills. I hunted through the cupboard she kept her medicines in; soon turning up the box the pills had come in. There was one further full packet inside the box that had originally contained three packets. According to the instruction in the box, it had originally contained three months' supply. On the outside of the box was the pharmacy label, which clearly stated that her doctor had prescribed the pills for Lindsey.
I'm not too sure how long I sat on the stool in Lindsey's little kitchen as the thoughts that she had been taking the piss out of me for the last twelve months or so, raced around in my mind.
"No, Mack! We mustn't, Mack; I want to wear white at my wedding with a clean conscience!"
Or when she got stroppy. "Mack, if you can't keep your hands under control, we'll have to break off our relationship right this minute!"
Yeah and for at least the last couple of months she's been ... no, on the shelf in that cupboard was a second instruction sheet. 'Damn, that's another three months that I can prove she's been taking the piss out of me, ' I thought.
Extremely angry, I think I managed to leave the flat as I had found it. I moved my car out of the block's parking bays and hid it down the street a ways, from where I could watch the car park. Then I sat back and waited for Lindsey to show. After two hours I wished I'd thought to get something to eat and drink, but it was too late to do anything about it then.
It was nearly three on the Saturday morning that I saw the car arrive. Lindsey jumped out of the passenger door and appeared to be really happy about something. Then a big guy got out of the driver's door; he went to the boot and retrieved a large rucksack kind of bag from the boot. You know, the sort soldiers are issued with. Effortlessly, he hoisted the large bag onto his shoulder and set off with Lindsey towards her flat with her hanging onto his arm.
Now my immediate instinct was to get out of the car, follow them to the flat and sort this out. But self-preservation had to be added into the equation. That guy was a bloody mountain next to me, and he certainly looked like he knew how to handle himself. Now I'm no coward when it comes to a fight, but I ain't no bloody idiot either. I knew I wouldn't be able to control my temper and if I lost it and took a swing at that bugger, it would be me waking up in hospital the following ... week, maybe?
So I sat there and stewed in my anger and grief. Yeah, grief for my lost love; no bloody woman's going to hang horns on me, no matter how infatuated I am with her.
The lights in the flat went dim surprisingly quickly after they'd gone inside. I knew what that was all about; Lindsey just had the light in the kitchenette on in the lounge, subdued lighting without the cost of a dimmer.
I'm not sure how long I sat there watching before I must have fallen asleep again; it could have been ten minutes or it could have been and hour, maybe I drifted in and out of sleep. Buggered if I know. I can remember looking at the clock some time during the night and the guy hadn't left because his car was still there. But was it four or five o'clock, I have no idea; I really thought that it was immaterial at the time.
But his car was gone when I was awakened by some noise at nine A.M. I got out of my car and walked back to Lindsey's flat, thinking I'd have it out with her whilst she was alone. But the flat was empty; Lindsey had obviously left with him.
His large bag was on the foot of Lindsey's bed, and his shaving gear in the bathroom. There was also a large pile of towels on the bathroom floor that hadn't been there the previous evening. From the look of it they'd both had showers, or more likely had a shower together in that bloody great big cubical. My blood boiled at the thought.
Checking the bag a bit closer I found his name. Cpl. Jeffrey O'Toole, you know like the Irish actor. And the name of his unit, but that's of no importance. If Lindsey and I had been married, maybe I could have had "a go" at his CO. But we weren't even engaged — well, not formally anyway — so there was sweet FA his CO would do.
Attached to the bag was one of those airline baggage tags that I gathered had been issued in Belize. 'So your soldier boy is stationed in Belize, is he, Lindsey? No wonder I've never seen or heard anything about him," I found myself saying out loud. So that's what the bitch had been up to. I was her bit of fun on the side whilst her soldier boy was stationed overseas. Yeah, all the pieces were falling into place.
I left the flat, returned to my car and then went off to find somewhere to eat. Not too close to the flat; I didn't want anyone recognising me. I was hoping to pick the pair of them up again later in the day and trail them for the rest of the weekend, but I would be prepared this time.
Stoked up with soft drinks and sandwiches I returned to park near Lindsey's flat around eleven-thirty in the morning. It proved to be a long wait until six when that car returned. Lindsey and the guy went back up to the flat and I sat there fuming. I only wish I could have bought a gun somewhere, then I'd have gone up there and confronted the buggers; but they are illegal in the UK.
What would that have achieved? Well, nothing really, but it might have messed up her relationship with lover boy, if I was lucky. It was pretty obvious to me that any relationship I'd had with Lindsey was over, if there'd ever really been one. Hey, the bitch had been treating me as a piggy bank, taking her out and buying her presents. Realising all this was pretty devastating to my ego, I can assure you.
There was the thought of calling for back-up from my friends, and confronting her whilst they were together, but even that would have led to one hell of a loss of face amongst my peers. Shit, the woman that everyone thought was going to be my wife and who kept her legs crossed to me was letting some squaddy shag her. Yeah, that would have done my reputation a shit load of good, wouldn't it?
Just after seven P.M. a people carrier pulled into the car park. A girl got out if it and made her way up to Lindsey's flat. Her body language made it pretty obvious that she hadn't been there before, but eventually she found the right flat. I was confused when she threw her arms around O'Toole and kissed him when he answered the door. But she then kissed Lindsey as well, once she had appeared on the balcony.
There was some discussion between the three of them, before O'Toole and the girl came back down to the car ... where there was a further discussion between the car's occupants, O'Toole and the girl. Eventually, three more people - two men and another woman - got out of the car and a shouted discussion was held with Lindsey who was leaning over the balcony outside of her flat.
I couldn't make out what they were saying to one another; they were too far away, but I did realise that they were trying to persuade Lindsey to join them. Then it struck me, Lindsey was waiting for my evening telephone call! When I did my fishing thing, we normally returned to the dock about six o'clock. I'd usually called Lindsey from the boat charter company office as soon as I got there. I wasn't one of the mobile phone set at that time. Lindsey was quite plainly waiting for me to ring before she went out. Probably to forestall any questions from me about why she wasn't home when I did call.
'The front on the bitch! How long was she planning on playing this bloody charade for?' I found myself asking my empty car. 'Yeah, well, O'Toole is probably on leave and he'll have to go back in a few days, ' I thought, 'no point in dumping the mug until you have to, is there?'
After a lot of persuading Lindsey apparently relented. She went back into the flat and turned off the lights, then went down and joined the others at the people carrier. Exchanging kisses all round I might add. Then after that they'd all climbed inside it and drove away.
I followed at a discreet distance. Whoever was driving appeared to be in quite a hurry as the vehicle raced into the city. I lost sight of it a couple of times, only to pick it up again a couple of minutes later. Eventually I lost sight of it completely and it was only by luck that I spotted it parked quite close to the hospital.
This I found confusing, because there were no nightclubs or anything around that area, just a couple of so-so pubs and a restaurant or two. I could only assume they'd gone to one of those restaurants; there was no other obvious reason for the car being parked in that area.
Just after nine they came back to the car. They were all very excited about something and in very animated conversation, especially the women; but once again I was too far away to make out what was being said. Although O'Toole appeared to be getting his fair share of kisses from all of the women and for some reason the other two guys didn't seem to object. In fact they were laughing and slapping him on the back.
On the return journey, the people carrier stopped at a small supermarket and O'Toole and one of the other guys went in and purchased an assortment of alcohol. It looked like a bit of a party was planned for later on. Then they drove back to Lindsey's flat, but they didn't go inside. After parking the people carrier, all of them trooped off to the pub just along the road, actually walking right past my car in the process, but on the opposite side of the road.
This was to my advantage, because it let me get a good look at them all. They didn't see me because they were more interested in themselves. O'Toole was walking along with one arm on Lindsey's shoulder and the other arm on the shoulder of the girl who went up to the flat. Both girls had their arms around his waist. The other woman and one of the guys had their arms around each other in a similar fashion, and her free arm was holding the arm of the third guy.
As they got close to me, I realised I'd seen the other girl who was hanging onto O'Toole before. She was some kind of a cousin or something of Lindsey's; I'd met her once at some family party that Lindsey had me take her to down Bristol way. One of the other guys, the one whose arm the woman was holding, I thought was most likely O'Toole's brother; they bore a striking resemblance to each other. The other guy and woman I had no idea about.
Full of beans and looking very pleased with themselves, they all bounced into the pub. Yeah, it wasn't far short of dancing the way Lindsey and her cousin were moving.
It was well past eleven — the Pub closing time - when they reappeared. I watched as they danced and sang their way back to Lindsey's flat. Where I assume they spent the rest of the night consuming all of the alcohol that they had retrieved from the people carrier.
I sat and watched the flat for maybe three hours, before I realised that I was wasting my time. I could achieve nothing by sitting there. Actually all that I was achieving was upsetting myself even more. A couple of times I dozed only to dream of Lindsey and O'Toole naked and making love on that damned great bed of hers.
There was the slightly funny side (when I look back at it) that in my dreams O'Toole started out with the body of Charles Atlas or someone like that and finished up with the body of the hulk. But I think that was my subconscious telling me that I'd never better the bugger in a face off.
I have no idea what time I arrived home. I know that one of my brothers had left his girlfriend's car in my parking place. Vague memories of him saying something about working on the thing that weekend surfaced in my mind. The streets are pretty crowded around our way and I was forced to park my car in the local pub car park almost half a mile away and walk home. I was annoyed about that, but it worked out to my advantage in the long term.
I entered my parents' house quietly so's not to wake anyone; I was in no mood to explain why I was home or what I'd discovered about Lindsey. I crept up to my room, where I finally after almost two nights got some proper sleep.
I must have been really tired because it was nearly 10 A.M. when I awoke. I couldn't believe I'd slept through the noise of everyone getting up and going off to church like we all were required to do by my mother on Sunday mornings. At first it was a bit of a shock that she hadn't demanded that I go with them. But then I realised that the family was obviously unaware that I had come home; they thought I was down on the south coast fishing with my friends.
Missing mum's cooked breakfast was a bind, but not having to explain my presence was somewhat of a relief to my befuddled mind. I staggered downstairs and straight away a note by the telephone caught my eye; it was in my brother's scribble. It basically said that Lindsey had called and asked if anyone had heard from Mack (me) because I hadn't called her on Saturday.
I'm not sure why I picked it up and stuffed the note in my pocket. I think a plan of what my reaction to Lindsey's cheating was going to be was forming in my head. Well, it wasn't so much a plan of action, but a plan of inaction, most people would call it. I got the idea of just pretending that Lindsey no longer existed in my world. I'd just ignore her and any reference to her in the future. Well, I thought it was a good idea, but you must remember I was under a considerable amount of mental and emotional stress at that time.
I also got the idea of leaving the house before everyone got back from church. I'd roll up home that evening as if I had been fishing for the weekend. Hey, to whom in the family did I have to explain that I'd seen my girl - sorry, ex-girl - with some other man and had not — as would be expected by my father and brothers — decked the bugger. I'd have to come up with some other excuse for ditching Lindsey. But I'd worry about that later. That bit of the plan was to come back and bite me; and would eventually lead to my virtual estrangement from all of them.
Remaking my bed and checking I'd left nothing behind, I left the house for my trusty car again. A swing past Lindsey's flat (I don't know, morbid curiosity I suppose) showed me that his car was still there but the people carrier was missing. Three minutes in a telephone box informed me that Lindsey wasn't answering the flat's number; so she was most likely with the rest of them somewhere.
"Burning the candle at both ends, aren't we, Lindsey?" I said to myself, as I hung up on the ringing tone. "Out until three on Saturday morning and partying until god knows what time this morning; eleven-thirty and you're out with him again. Must be making the most of his leave!"
I spent the day poodling around, just trying to find something else to think about unsuccessfully. Several times I passed Lindsey's flat, spotting that the people carrier was back there before six P.M., but gone again by eight. O'Toole's car was also gone when I made that eight o'clock pass. That was the last time I ever went near that flat.
Around midnight and on the right and wrong side of several beers, I arrived back at my parents' house. My parking spot was vacant this time, so I didn't have to walk half a mile.
"Why didn't you call Lindsey, Mack? She's been calling all afternoon," was the greeting I got from my mother. "You'd better call her right now. The poor girl's frantic with worry!"
"Yeah, fine, mum," I answered and went out into the hall where the home phone was kept. I didn't call Lindsey; I pretended that I didn't get an answer from her place. Mother thought that sounded odd, but I told her Lindsey had most likely turned the ringer off when she went to bed. Mother appeared to think that was logical.
"When Lindsey called yesterday she said you hadn't called her at all over the weekend; you'd better see if she's turned her telephone on this morning," my mother said to me as I entered the kitchen the following morning.
"No time now, Mum. I'll call her later at work. I'm running late and misery guts Peters (my boss) will be on my back again if I'm not careful," I replied.
"If you're not careful, you'll lose that girl, Mack!" Mother commented. "Why didn't you call her anyway? It would have taken only you a few minutes out of your fishing to call your fiancée."
"There just wasn't a working telephone handy, mother. And besides she not my fiancée. I'm not so sure that she's anything to me anymore."
"Why? What's happened? I thought you were crazy about the girl. She's madly in love with you."
"Things aren't always what they appear to be, mother. You know that. Like this bleeding job of mine, Peters is like a bloody slave driver. If he gives me any strife today, I'm liable to tell him where to stick his damned job," I raved back at her.
"Mack, there's no need for that kind of language. Mr Peters pays your wages, remember. He deserves value for his money!"
"Value, yeah, but not blood. That's all that bugger ever wants. Anyway I'd better go," I said, gulping down the rest of my mug of tea. "See you tonight, mum."
"But what were you saying about Lindsey?" I heard my mother asked as I closed the door behind me.
I'm not sure why I didn't just tell my mother that I knew that Lindsey was seeing another bloke. I'm pretty sure it would have saved me a lot of grief with the family in the long run. Could be I wouldn't have finished up estranged from them either. But I didn't know how events were going to get away from me in the following few days when I left the house that morning.
It might have been a good idea to call in sick that day as well, because things started going downhill the moment I arrived at the warehouse. Peters must have had almost as bad a weekend as I'd had, because he was on my back from the moment I stepped through the door. I can't put my finger on any particular thing, but it seemed like he was tearing me a new arsehole about something every couple of minutes of so. But then sometime during the morning Lindsey tried to call me on the company number and he went ape-shit at me.
You've got to understand this Peters wanker. I'll bet he was as sweet as pie to Lindsey, the same as he was to my mother when she had occasionally called me at work. I'm willing to bet that mother had given Lindsey the damned number; I'd always told Lindsey never to call me at my workplace and I'd never given it to her to ensure that she couldn't.
Anyway as I said, Peters would be all sweetness and light when he spoke to whoever was calling. Then "the shit" would come out into the warehouse and tear me yet another arsehole. The bastard would even time how long I was on the telephone, and dock it from my time card.
"I'm not your bleeding secretary, son. You tell your girlfriend that you can't speak to her now, and remind her that you're on company time whilst you're at it!" he'd replied, when I told him I didn't wish to receive the call.
I just walked into the office and hung up the telephone without speaking into it and walked out again.
"That wasn't very polite!" Peters said after he'd watched me do it.
"Yeah, I'm learning the ropes from a fucking expert, ain't I?" I replied in as angry a tone of voice as I could muster, as I passed him on my way back to the job in hand.
For some time after that I could feel that Peters was staring at me, from his office doorway. I got on with my work almost as efficiently as I normally did, although every evening at knocking off time Peters would always moan that something that he'd expected to be finished wasn't.
My mind, though, was actually continuing with the task of painting myself into a corner, which my arrogant nineteen-year-old brain couldn't see. I started down a path that morning when I'd lied to my mother that was going to lead to disaster for me in the long term.
By knocking off time that night, I'd been going over in my head all day how Lindsey had been taking the piss out of me and I'd worked myself up into a real state.
"Who gives a shit?" I'd said to Peters when he expressed his usual annoyance that a particular order wasn't ready for dispatch. Then I'd strode past him and clocked out. Peters shouted some comment after me, but whatever it was I'd ignored it!
I was halfway home when it struck me that that probably wasn't a good move. I was pretty sure that Lindsey would have called my house and they'd all bug me to call her back. I couldn't pull the same trick about getting no answer from her flat that early in the evening. So I diverted into the pub where I'd parked my car on the Saturday evening. I knew I could walk home from there at closing time without risking my driving licence.
After calling home and telling my mother that I was going out with some friends for a drink from a telephone box, as expected she mentioned once again that Lindsey had called and demanded that I call her right away. I told her that I would, then headed into the pub where I grabbed a beer and a pasty that looked like it had been in the warming cabinet a lot longer than was advisable. Shit, well, I had to eat; then settled myself in a quiet corner.
It was nearly midnight when I put my key in the front door and attempted to sneak inside, unsuccessfully. My mother, father and youngest elder brother were waiting to pounce on me.
I think I did mention that my family were quite taken with Lindsey. They all seemed pretty pissed at me because it was becoming apparent to them by then that I was avoiding her.
"Lindsey and I are through and that's all there is to it!" I told them in an arrogant tone. Whether it was just my anger or the beer that was doing some of my talking (and thinking) I can't say now. But I told them that there was nothing to discuss; Lindsey, if she bothered to think about it, would know quite well why we were through. Then I stormed off to my room with all three of them shouting that they demanded an explanation. And there I really put my foot right in it, in two ways.
"For Christ's sake, ask the bitch. She knows exactly what my problem is!" I shouted back down the stairs.
My first faux pas there was to blaspheme in my mother's presence. My second was to tell them to ask Lindsey. But I wasn't to realise I'd made the second one until the following evening when my whole relationship with my family collapsed around me.
The day had not gone well, my mother had lectured me in the morning about taking the Lord's name in vain. Lindsey had called the company again and the old man had talked to her for quite some time before he'd come out into the warehouse where we'd had a real set to about me not talking to her, that is until I went into his office and hung up the telephone on her once again. Peters, for some reason, went ape shit at me for doing that, and I told him to mind his own fucking business and keep his nose out of mine.
"Watch your mouth, son, or you'll have your bloody cards on Friday!" he threatened.
Well, I was just about in the right mood for that one. "Stick you f-ing job up your arse!" I'd replied and walked out. Not forgetting to clock-out on the way though. I wanted every penny that tight bugger owed me.
It was around ten o'clock that night when I discovered that I'd lost control of the situation completely. I was sitting in the lounge at home watching the end of some program before the news came on, when my sister Julia burst into the room.
"You perverted little bastard!" she shouted at me, to be honest taking me completely by surprise. I'd had the lectures from my mother and father earlier in the evening about not talking to Lindsey, but I was totally unprepared for the attack that came from Julia.
"Do you know why this little pervert has dumped Lindsey?" Julia said to our parents who were both sitting there with shocked expressions on their faces. "Lindsey wants to walk down the aisle a virgin and this little arsehole has been bugging her to have sex. She didn't want to tell me at first but in the end I winkled it out of her. The poor girl's distraught, you fucking perverted little bastard!" Julia turned and raved at me again.
My mother was telling Julia to watch her language and my father was looking at me with an expression of disgust on his face; Mike, Julia's husband, had followed her in carrying their baby and shared that same expression. I felt about one inch tall.
So, the die was cast. Lindsey had got in with an accusation that I'd have trouble refuting. It could be that it was even true. Had I been angrier that Lindsey was shagging that squaddy than I was that she was shagging him but denying me? That's a question that I've asked myself many times in the intervening years.
Whatever, things took a downward spiral for me at home. In the next few days just about everyone expressed their disgust with me. I didn't retaliate by telling them about Lindsey's dirty weekend with the squaddy. I realised it was too late for that revelation. I'm pretty well convinced that I'd have been accused of trying to sling mud at Lindsey in retaliation for her telling Julia that she wanted to get married a virgin.
By the following Saturday things had reached the point where something had to give and it was to turn out to be me! I packed my gear into my car and lit out for pastures new, with my tail between my legs.