Chapter 5

Cold, crisp, white linen sheets, and a light woolen blanket. The coolness of the bed and room conflicted with the burning in my groin. Not from what Paul had been up to, far from it, but the thought of what had happened that night at the beach with Macca and what might happen next Sunday. I closed my eyes and let my hand wander down inside my PJs and immediately felt how wet I was, I started to touch, and my fingers rolled my ever-hardening clit between them, I moaned into the pillow and continued to massage, to pull and slip a finger, then two inside of me. It felt so good, my hand was moving in sync with my hips and my whole body was moving back and forth. OMG it felt so good,

I kept seeing those stars in the night sky, and looking up as Macca lowered herself onto my face. I wanted more of it, much more. I came with an almighty shudder as I both screamed into my pillow and grabbed hold of my core, shaking, I felt my muscles deep inside me grip my fingers, I shook with relief, moaning with delight. My eyes were closed, I fell asleep, I slept so well that night.

I was a bundle of nerves all the next week. I typical young woman waiting for a big event, caught between daydreaming about Macca and what we did and in the next second getting all excited about the upcoming weekend. It was no secret I was going to a pool part with Macca and a few of the girls, as Macca put it. Mum was happy about it, glad she said that was making new friends. Although she wasn’t overly wrapped in Macca, she smoked, which Mum hated, was loud and opinionated, also which Mum hated, also played all that new music so loud you could hear her car coming halfway down the street.

Not like the woman my Mother wanted me to become, which she made very clear. But apart from those, annoying little things, she liked Macca, who was always laughing, if Mum only knew why, smiling and openly affectionate. She would hug my Mum and Dad, which Dad didn’t mind one little bit, but Mum was not a huggy type of person. I can count on one hand the number of times my Mum hugging me.

Paul did come around during the week, it was the Tuesday when I told him I was going out on the following Sunday with a few of my friends, deliberately not mentioning who they were. He was OK with it, and suggested we go out on the Saturday night, maybe to dinner and then catch a movie in town. This was strange.

Going out to dinner isn’t what we did, in fact we had never been out to dinner, not counting picking up a feed of fish and chips on a Friday night, where a Chico Roll was a delicacy and considered almost posh.