Over the Hills and Faraway.. Book 2 ;Relationships
Chapter 5: The Courtship of Phillipa Goddard; 23rd December 1987
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Humor, Spanking, Rough, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Slow, Violent, Military,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 5: The Courtship of Phillipa Goddard; 23rd December 1987 - After the latest contretemps with his wife Des has several one night stands, but then embarks on a torrid affair with a MILF. When she disappears he takes up with her friend and discovers a woman of many parts! Their sizzling sexual Paradise is undermined by the serpent of the different worlds they inhabit, and when Des returns from another war they realise that they are moving east of Eden.However as one door closes another one opens and Paradise might be regained!
I walked back to the barracks with my head spinning as I struggled to take in the fact that Emma had gone. She must have known a fortnight ago that it would be our last meeting. That could explain her somewhat feverish sexual activity- had she wanted something special to look back on? Who was the other employee from her firm who had disappeared with her? Phillipa hadn't said but I assumed it to be a male as I couldn't imagine Emma without a pliable male companion. Had he been shagging her as well? Questions, questions ... well maybe I'd get some answers from Phillipa on Sunday.
When I got back to the barracks I saw that there was an 'O'(orders) group for my platoon that evening. That meant all the NCOs would be given their orders by the platoon commander for the duty roster over the Christmas break. The' O' group wasset for 1800 and as it was not a parade we met in the platoon office, wearing civilian clothing. Bunny Burroughs, who was our platoon commander and a laid back sort of officer who didn't stand on ceremony, said. "Toby and I will be on duty for all three days; it's up to you section corporals to make sure there will be a corporal, a lance corporal and eighteen riflemen, on duty every day of the break. How you do it is up to you."
I stood up and volunteered. "I'll do the three days as well Boss; my Christmas present won't be materialising."
They all laughed. "You probably need the rest Dewey," Bunny said.
Snuffy Pritchard, the L/Cpl of Wurzel's section, also volunteered. "I'm OK for all three days Boss, my Christmas present will be on the blob."
"On the what Snuffy?" Bunny sounded a bit perplexed.
"His girlfriend will be having her period over Christmas, sir." Our platoon sergeant spoke up from the back of the room. "Bloody inconvenient, in more ways than one." Toby Belcher had rather a coarse sense of humour.
Wurzel and I exchanged glances. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me: Bunny Burrough's parents would have paid an arm and a leg to send him to Eton or Harrow, and yet he didn't even know what 'on the blob' meant. Any kid who went to a Comprehensive state school would know the meaning, and they would check with their girlfriends every month to make sure that they were on the blob, or had been recently.That way they knew their girl friends weren't up the duff, in the pudding club or in the family way (pregnant). Didn't those kids who went to Public school do any shagging?
Once Snuffy and I had volunteered for all three duty days all that remained was for the rest of the lads to work out who was going to do what hours on duty. Not how the Guards do it, but Green Jackets are different.
As I walked back from the platoon office with Wurzel, making for the canteen, he suddenly said,
"I'm going to move in with Cindy." That was a bit of a surprise but what followed really astounded me. "I want to spend a family Christmas with her; Christmas Day dinner, watching The Queen, opening presents under the tree, the Full Monty." Wurzel spoke quickly, as if to get the information out as swift as possible. I looked at him, was he pulling my pisser? He seemed embarrassed enough to be telling the truth.
"You going to shag that Mandy, along with her mother, for your Christmas treat?" I asked him, "You must have thought about it."
I was then completely gobsmacked by what he said next. He didn't look at me but mumbled, "When Mandy is sixteen I'm going to marry her!"
"Bloody hell Wurzel, you know she's not even 14, stick your knob in her and Cindy will have you in the nick quicker than that." I was really worried about the old sod, he had always seemed to be so in control of himself when it came to women. That young tart Mandy must have addled his brains.
"Credit me with some mullam (sense) " he said angrily, "I haven't touched her, and I won't, not until our wedding night!"
By now I'm practically reeling with shock. Wurzel was twice Mandy's age and was shagging her mother, not the best credentials for a successful wooing I would have thought. I knew Wurzel wasn't as thick as he made out, he had a quick mind and a ready wit so he was bound to have some plan sorted out. We sat in the NAAFI canteen with a pint each in front of us and he told me what he intended doing.
He had been shagging Cindy regularly on a Friday night, ever since the night he and Shadrack went on the pull about three months ago. He had received the same breakfast treatment as I had, but on his first time at the house Mandy hadn't been at home, probably having a sleepover at Debs house. The next time that Wurzel stayed overnight Mandy came into the kitchen while Wurzel was having breakfast.
"Cindy introduced me to Mandy and I fell in love with her, it was as simple as that" he said, and downed his pint. "I hadn't really noticed her that night you picked her up and I had that Debbie bird." He looked into the fresh pint I'd bought him. "She wasn't in her tarty gear at her house, she was scrubbed and clean and looked like an angel, a 16 year old angel" he smiled to himself, "had she been 16 I would have proposed to her there and then."
The poor old bugger had really got it bad. "What about Mandy, does she want to marry you?" I asked. "She's not yet 14; you've got over two years to go before you could marry her, assuming that Cindy would allow it."
"Mandy is mad about me" he smirked, "I could have her every night and in every way, if I wanted to" he took a drink from his glass, "and by God do I want to. I'm putting myself through purgatory by not having her, she's so close and so sexy it's a wonder I don't shag her every time I see her, but I'm strong willed. I'm also fucking the living daylights out of her mother, which does go some way in alleviating the pain." He laughed, and I was glad to see signs of the old Wurzel; all that talk of love, marriage and celibacy just didn't seem right.
He was deadly serious about getting married; Mandy and he were engaged, but Cindy didn't know. I said if Debbie knew that he and Mandy were engaged then Cindy would soon find out, and then the shit would really hit the fan. Wurzel unfolded his master plan. First of all he was weaning Mandy off cocaine; Debbie was no longer her best friend and Mandy was staying home most evenings. He was helping with Mandy's homework and such, and taking her, and Cindy, on educational trips. Mandy's school work had improved and Wurzel was getting the credit from Cindy for this turn around. Meantime he was giving Cindy a regular seeing to, and she was happy as Larry (very pleased) to have an unlimited supply of country fresh cock, as supplied by Wurzel.
Over the next two years Wurzel would give Cindy such a good seeing to that she would soon be eating out of his hand, and by the time she found out that she was going to be Wurzel's mother-in-law and not his wife it would be too late, she would be in his sexual thrall and would do anything he said. At least that was the plan.
I thought it could all come tumbling down around Wurzel's ears. Even assuming he could keep his hands off Mandy for two years; keep his intentions for Mandy secret from Cindy, and get Cindy's permission for Mandy to marry him, it could still all go pear shaped if two years down the line Mandy decided that she didn't want to marry a man twice her age. She would have met many a likely lad her own age by then. Still, I wished him the best of luck.
On Saturday I made a quick trip up to Plaistow and popped into my mum's. As I suspected she was packing to go off with the latest uncle. I left her a Christmas present and then went over to Miriam's parents, who were also busily packing for a visit to Birmingham. Miriam was still at work and was going with them as soon as she finished her shift. I left her a present and wished them all a Merry Christmas. Duty done I went for a pint then caught the next train back to Aldershot.
I was back in barracks in time to visit the NAAFI shop before closing time; I needed some little present to take to Phillipa. I knew these little actions are well appreciated by the ladies, and it was something of a shock to realise that I wanted Phillipa to have a good opinion of me. I remembered Wurzel had said she fancied me, but that was only Wurzel's opinion and after what he had just told me I didn't have much faith in his thought processes.
I finally decided on a plant pot; easy to look after for the career woman, and a Poinsettia, the Christmas Rose, was a flower my mum always had at Christmas, a seasonal favourite. Just before I paid for it I remembered Phillipa saying 'this isn't my most favourite time of the year'; maybe Christmas didn't have good memories for her? Quick rethink required. I looked at jewellery, but that was too personal and besides I didn't know what sort of thing she liked.
I had a sudden brain wave; Wurzel had said she was reading up on the 95th Rifles. As 3RJG were the battalion in residence in the barracks (Buller Barracks) the NAAFI shop had a whole heap of 95th Rifles associated stuff, books, insignia and prints. One such print caught my eye. It depicted a rifleman of the 95th, 1812, in the Peninsula. It was coloured and framed and hit me straight between the eyes. Phillipa would be able to see what regimental pride and tradition was all about just by looking at it - as a back-up I got a box of Black Magic chocolates. Sorted!
I arrived at Phillipa's house dead on 12.30 on Sunday; we don't do 'lunch'in the army, we do 'dinner' but as it is served between the hours of 1200-1300 I reckoned civvies would have a similar time span for 'lunch'.
Her house was a semi-detached (duplex) 2 bedroom sized place, on a suburban street not as leafy or select as Emma's place. I knew Phillipa was divorced and assumed that she hadn't had such a high flyer of a husband as Emma. I rang the door bell, the door opened almost immediately. Had she been waiting in anticipation or was she just passing to the kitchen when I knocked?
Phillipa said "Come in Des, just in time." Her whole face lit up with a smile; which embraced me, warmed me, patted me on the head and called me a good boy.
"Hello" I said, and handed over the print and the box of chocolates.
As she unwrapped the print she gasped, "It's wonderful, thank you so much."
She came and kissed me on the cheek, and I smelt her fragrance and her perfume, which is not always the same thing. I could see she was genuinely pleased with the print, and I was further pleased when she said
"I thought you would bring me something, I could see that you had been brought up properly." She smiled and continued, "I half dreaded it would be a Poinsettia, I hate the beastly things," she made a wry face, "Christmas isn't my most favourite time of the year."
"You nearly did get a Poinsettia but then I remembered you saying that," I made my confession as I followed her through the hall; she walked in the same graceful manner I had admired when she had left the cafe. She stopped suddenly and turned around, her face alight with a smile.
"Fancy you remembering that, Emma said you were special, I understand why now."
A table was set in the kitchen and I sat down while Phillipa brought over a pan of soup from the cooker.
"Homemade potato and leek, I hope you like it." It smelled delicious and I said so. She thanked me and said,
"The timing is important, too long and the leeks taste like rubber, too short and the potatoes are like boulders" I agreed that timing was all important in cooking, and in fact in everything.
"Emma says your timing is impeccable, always meeting her exactly on time."
She wasn't looking at me as she said it. I stopped with my spoon at my mouth; was she being a bit cheeky, alluding to me bringing Emma to her climax, or was she just innocently passing on something that Emma had said?
I looked at her; she seemed to be fully concentrated on her soup bowl.
"More soup Des?" She inquired sweetly, and then gave me such an angelic look that I knew the cheeky sort was having a laugh; no one could look that innocent! I smiled inwardly. OK Ms.Goddard, two can play at that game.Fact was I enjoy exchanging double entendre and innuendos with females, especially when it might end up as four bare legs in a bed.
Soup finished Phillipa busied around, bringing in what my mother would call 'a cold collation'. The table was soon full and I asked if the rest of the regiment had been invited. I was rewarded with that tinkling musical laugh; her whole face lit up, and I now saw that Ms.Goddard was a very attractive woman, her illness had dulled that attractiveness but her laughter showed it up. Her voice was at least half an octave lower than that of Emma's, which would rise another octave to screech mode when excited, or more often, angry. Phillipa's was more mezzo soprano and would drop to contralto when excited or aroused. (I learned this when I got to know her better!)
She was dressed in a brown check long sleeved blouse, the three buttons undone at the throat hinted at a deep cleavage and full bosom. She wore a wide brown leather belt around her trim waist; her bottle green corduroy skirt was mid length and a worn with a bolero type jacket, the same colour as the skirt. In fact had she had been wearing a Stetson hat and cowboy boots she could have been mistaken for Annie Oakley. I said as much and she replied.
"Or Calamity Jane?"
Her dark hair was similar to when I had first seen her, shoulder length framing her slightly triangular face. Her brown eyes were rimmed with dark circles; her lips were full, and a luscious red.
I helped her clear the table and stack the plates in the dish washer.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "I'm going to have a Chardonnay; I hadn't drunk that wine until Al bought it at the Sierra. She went and got a bottle from out of the fridge.
"I'll have the same, it was the first time for me as well" I admitted "probably for Wu ... Al also!" I got the laugh I had hoped for. We moved into the sitting room with our drinks.
"Have you known Al for long" she asked, sitting down in an arm chair. Her skirt had slipped along her leg up to mid-thigh; she pulled it back down to her knee, without any false sense of modesty just of comfort. I still had time to admire her shapely leg.
"About a year, I knew him by sight before that but got to know him better when I was posted to Bravo Company" I replied, and then asked "what about you and Emma, how long have you known her?"
"Before I tell you that I should let you know what I've found out about her disappearance" she sat up in the chair and begun the tale.
It transpired that the male colleague who had also disappeared, Clive Morton, was the manager of the Overseas Investments Department of Prudential Insurance. Emma worked as a secretary at the Prudential office, but not Morton's secretary.
It was he and another Prudential employee who had been the two civvies with Emma and Phillipa at the Ambassador Club the first time I saw them. Phillipa hadn't realised that Emma and Morton knew each other as, according to Emma, the two men were out-of-town businessmen at a loose end and looking for company.
"But not that sort of company." Phillipa quickly let me know.
"Did Emma go off with Morton, or did you all split up outside the Ambassador? "I asked.
"Well yes she did, Morton was staying in a hotel on the way to Emma's place, or so she said." Phillipa looked at me ruefully "I must seem very gullible, I believed every word Emma said."
"What about this other bloke, was he in the same hotel as Morton?" I was acting like Colombo with my questions.
Phillipa replied "Pablo was staying at the Holiday Inn and took a taxi, I went home alone."
"Pablo, was he Spanish?" I suddenly remembered the documents in Emma's lounge.
"Why yes he is. I think he said he had dual nationality, he spoke excellent English, with only a slight accent." She looked at me with admiration "How clever of you to pick up on that."
"Not really" I said "there were documents in Spanish in Emma's house last time I was there."
"Could you read them?" Phillipa was getting excited, and her voice had got deeper, and sexier.
"I can speak it better than I can read it, but it was something about the transfer of money." I racked my memory trying to think of any name or destination mentioned, but I had only looked at the top page.
"It seems to me" I said, sounding like Hercules Poirot "that this Pablo bloke is also connected with the disappearance of the money. I wonder if he is still in Aldershot."
"Do you think we should contact the police?" Phillipa was a typical middle- class do-the -right-thing type.
I certainly didn't want to be involved. "I expect the police will have picked up on the Spanish connection, they'll have got Emma on CCTV cameras at an airport or ferry terminal, let them earn their pay." I spoke as a working class don't-trust -the-coppers sort!