Chapter 2: Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd. But Four?

I made sure I got a chance to talk to Uncle Frank in the weekend.

“Bronwyn eventually told me that she was thinking about me when she was doing it. And one of her friends was one of Andrea’s cronies last year. She was one of the ones playing stinky finger. Bronwyn was asking her about me.”

“Could be tricky!” I wasn’t totally sure what he meant, so I Hmmed, and Frank went on. “You don’t know what she told Bronwyn about what you and Andrea got up to.”

“I don’t think Andrea told other girls anything. Robyn would know Andrea and I were talking, but I don’t think Andrea had any chance to discuss our ‘date’ before there was the drama with her mum and she went off to boarding school.”

“Robyn is the stinky finger girl?”

“Yup. One of them. She was there when Andrea dared me to swear, and she told Bronwyn I was a goody goody.”

“I’d be wanting to give Bronwyn a message that I don’t talk about what I do with anybody else.”

“I think I did that, it seemed to reassure her.”

So it’s just the same deal as last year. You get her talking about what she fantasises about doing with you, you tell her what you fantasise about doing with her – tactfully, keeping her comfortable.”

“She responded pretty well to a joke.”

“That’s a good sign.”

We left it at that. The rest of the weekend seemed to drag, and by Monday afternoon I had rehearsed talking to Bronwyn so many times that I was starting to tell myself silly stories about how she would laugh at me or throw me out. I talked to Brian briefly after maths.

“Did Bronwyn say anything after I left?”

“No. She was busy with dinner, and Mum and Dad were due home any minute.” I must have shown my disappointment, because he quickly went on. “We talked a bit in the weekend though. She likes you. She said you seemed very mature, and I think she’s interested in ‘doing stuff’ with you. She asked whether I’d ever seen your cock.”

“Shit! What did you say?” Brian laughed.

“I told her you were hung like a horse with an enormous cock. I said it would split her in half!”

“Fuck off! At least it’s bigger than yours!” We laughed together.

I went round to Brian’s after school. Even though it was nearly two hours until her parents were due, Bronwyn had made a start on preparing dinner. And she wasn’t alone. Robyn Olds was with her in the kitchen peeling potatoes. I hadn’t seen her for almost six months. She had grown. Lots.

Despite Uncle Frank’s comments about the sensitivity of breasts being much more important than their size, and despite my experience with Andrea’s itty bitty titties, I was a fourteen year old boy, and I found it hard to keep my eyes off Robyn’s C cups. She thought that was funny, but I didn’t need remarkable powers of perception to sense that Bronwyn was less than pleased. I tried to cover my confusion.

“Hi. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Robyn nodded and smiled, but Bronwyn was slightly snarky.

“Seems like the main bit you’re interested in seeing is her tits!” I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. We stood in the kitchen in silence, with Robyn grinning, Bronwyn frowning, and me almost certainly displaying the discomfort I was feeling. After what seemed a very long time, Brian came in and saved me. I don’t know whether he intended to distract the girls, but he moved to hug Robyn, and she hugged him right back. It was more than casually friendly.

Bronwyn seemed to have no problem with this display of affection, and I gathered that there had been some developments that I hadn’t been privy to.

“You obviously don’t tell either!” Brian grinned.

“You convinced me that talking’s a bad idea! It’s early days anyway.” Robyn was keen to clarify the situation.

“We haven’t done anything not to tell anyone about.” She matched Brian’s grin. “Yet!”

I was almost completely out of my depth. I had come round to talk more with Bronwyn, and maybe to progress a discussion about our solitary sexual activities, and found myself in a new situation. Brian’s presence was expected and I had not been concerned that he would be what Uncle Frank called a ‘spare prick at a wedding’, and my Mum referred to as a ‘gooseberry’. I was certainly capable of suggesting he ‘piss off and leave us alone’ and last week Bronwyn had demonstrated the same ability.

But was Robyn’s presence a complication? Was this intended as a double date, cover for Bronwyn and me, or just Brian getting lucky? I didn’t know how to ask. So I kept my mouth shut and stood on one foot and then the other, not knowing whether to make a move on Bronwyn, or what to say if that was what she had in mind. Eventually, Brian and Robyn started to smooch a bit. That made me even more uncomfortable and uncertain. Eventually Bronwyn took pity on me and grabbed my hand

“Look, you’re interested in exploring some stuff with me, I’m interested in exploring some stuff with you, and it’s the same for these two.” She nodded towards Brian and Robyn. “We get the chance to have time together after school before Mum and Dad get home, and there won’t be a problem provided dinner is always prepped as usual, and you are almost always gone by half five.”

What if we’re here when they get home?

“Having them come home a few minutes earlier than usual and catching us prepping food in the kitchen wouldn’t be a problem unless it happened more than a couple of times.” Brian couldn’t resist playing the smart arse

“Coming home early and catching us fucking on the couch in the lounge even once might get more than a ‘please explain’!” Robyn pretended to be unimpressed.

“In your dreams lover boy!” They giggled together, then withdrew – presumably to Brian’s room.

That left me and Bronwyn standing in the kitchen. I had no idea how she was feeling, but I was still distinctly uncomfortable. I was brought up to be a ‘good boy’, and offering to help is what ‘good boys’ do in uncomfortable situations.

“What more needs to be done?”

“Not much. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She busied herself top ‘n tailing beans, and I saw that Robyn had abandoned a dozen or so unpeeled potatoes.

“I’ll sort these.” Bronwyn gave me a slightly odd look, but made no comment. I didn’t think peeling spuds was any big deal, but I saw her watching me discretely. “Are you going to roast these?” She nodded.

In mainstream NZ in 1959, oil was something you put in the car, so I heated a big spoon and scooped a dollop of lard from the bowl in the big double door Kelvinator fridge. I rubbed it all over the peeled potatoes and sprinkled on some salt. Bronwyn’s discreet observation gave way to overt interest.

“You can cook?”

“Yup – well sort of. Wipe my own bum too!”

“A clean smart arse!” We both had a laugh.

“Can’t Brian cook? Bronwyn heaved a big sigh.

“I do the meal prep and sometimes I cook. I also do most of the washing and about half of the cleaning. It’s a big house, and with Mum and Dad both working, kids have to help.”

“So what does Brian do?”

“Bugger all! He mows the lawns and washes the car sometimes.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” She nodded, but looked slightly puzzled, so I went on. “My Mum doesn’t work, and neither does Grandma. My Dad doesn’t cook or clean, but my Uncle Frank sometimes cooks for Grandma and Grandpa, and does his own washing and some of the cleaning. He reckons the system is unfair to women because they do more than their fair share of the work needed to keep a household running. And if they have a job they don’t get paid as much and often miss out on promotions.” Bronwyn evidently agreed, and since I seemed to be on a roll I kept on. “He reckons it’s bad for young men too, because they don’t learn basic living skills.”

“Robyn says her aunt is a ‘Womens Libber’. She is really into politics and protests about discrimination against women.” Bronwyn giggled. “No one would notice if I burned my bra, but people sure would if Robyn did!” I was wary – was this a test? I decided to stick with parroting Uncle Frank’s opinion.

“Uncle Frank reckons anything more than a mouthful is a waste, and the most important thing is not how big someone’s boobs are, but how sensitive they are.”

“Tell that to all the guys who drool over Robyn’s big boobs!”

“I certainly look – it’s hard not to notice, but I’m a lot more interested in what you have in your bra than what she has in hers.” Bronwyn smiled broadly, and I guessed I was still on a roll, so I went further.