Chapter 5: A Friday Night

The following morning I woke up still feeling weary and tired from yesterday’s strenuous fuck session. I was so tender in my groin that my balls were in pain from the battering Susan had given them. Fortunately, my hamstring had suffered no further injury from our hard workout.

I looked at my life and what I had to show for it over the past 42 years. I have to admit, I’ve been living a single man’s life for too long, apart from my house. I really didn’t have a lot, and I was not happy with how my future looked. I have to make some changes. I had very little money in the bank, I needed a better-paying job, plus a few other things, and who knows, one day I might meet someone who I could settle down with, so I decided today would be a good day to take stock of my life and set some goals on what I wanted to achieve in the future.

I made a list of positive and negative points, and the negatives outweigh the positives two to one. The first one I had to tackle was to find a better-paying job. Currently, my pay is $39,000 per year, less tax. Not much left to live on after paying all the monthly and yearly accounts, mortgage, phone, gas, electricity, health insurance, etc. I had one thing on my side: I was a qualified Horticulturist. The award rate of pay ranged from $49,000 - $60,500 per annum. I knew I had to find a job with better pay. So I scanned the internet to see what was available.

I spent hours searching the various employment agency websites with no luck. After all this searching, I had become despondent after not finding anything. I was racking my brain, trying to think of other businesses that would require a Horticulturist. Then, on some impulse, I checked the Western Australian government website.

What a stroke of luck. There was a job on offer based in Bunbury, about 35km from where I live. The advertisement gave specific work details and what level of qualification was required. The job offered a nine-day working fortnight with an entry-level salary of $58,000, and experienced workers were offered up to $88,000 per annum. Applications must include relevant work history with a copy of qualifications. Applications for the position must be received no later than Friday, 1st December 2017.

I spent the balance of the day updating my resume, making sure to include all of my work history relating to my time in the horticultural industry.

I emailed my application and a copy of my degree to the address listed. A few minutes later, I received an auto-generated email stating my application had been received and that they would be in contact shortly.

On Monday, I received the news I had been expecting from the Doctor. I had a grade one hamstring strain with an expected recovery time of up to eight weeks, but the Doctor went on to say that due to my age, it may take longer to recover. He also said I should think about giving the game away.

He told me to take it as easy as possible for the next four weeks but did give me some simple exercises to perform to help enhance my recovery. Maybe I should give the game away with that prognosis, plus the thoughts I had last Sunday played on my mind. I had thought I was getting too old to mix it with the young guys, so maybe giving up cricket was the right thing to do. The Doctor helped me to make up my mind. No more cricket. It comes to us all in the end.

After a week of mixed feelings, firstly the high of applying for a new job, with great expectations of being successful based on my qualifications, then the low of deciding to give up cricket, and the continual antics of panties in your face chick Roxanne, I thought I had had a good week.

As Friday night came around, it was time to hit the town. Murphy’s is the place to be on a Friday night. With a live band playing at 8pm, that leaves standing room only. A mix of locals and tourists adding to the atmosphere makes it a good hunting ground for pussy.

Arriving at 7pm, I find the place is already rocking. I scan the room, looking for a place to sit or stand so I can watch the crowd.

There are two large tables of ladies varying in age from what looks like late teens to late fifties. It must be some social gathering, and I didn’t recognise any as locals. There are plenty of tables with mixed couples, a big group of noisy blokes at the bar eyeing off the ladies, and some family groups with teenagers.

I found a stool, sat at the bar and ordered my drink. From this position, I can scan the crowd looking for any likely Sheila that I can chat up and see where we go from there. I’m in no rush. I can bide my time letting the alcohol kick in, and those inhibitions will float away, making it easy for me to go and chat up some unsuspecting woman and get into her panties.

From behind me, there’s a female voice.

“G’day blue, can I buy you a drink?”

“Nah, thanks, I’m good,” I replied without turning around due to not recognising the voice.

Undeterred, she sits down on the barstool next to me. “Are you here on business, or are you a local?” She asks. “By the way, my name is Pamela.” Am I being picked up by a Sheila? That would be a first!

Now, I had to turn around and face her. Here I am, looking down as I turn around, and there is a beautiful pair of legs to greet my view; she is wearing the shortest creamy-coloured dress I have ever seen. I call this a cum fuck me quick dress. Wow.

I look appreciatively at her beautiful, smooth legs. As I look further up, I can see her panties where a camel toe has formed, and they are so tight they’ve been pulled into her slit.

I just kept looking. I was mesmerised. “Hello, my face is up here.”

I drag my eyes away from her crotch only to stop at her marvellous breasts, then at her face with long hair flowing down to her tits. To me, she was a vision of beauty. Voluptuous and cuddly, my type of woman!

“Hello Pamela, I’m Tim and a local. What brings you to Kurlinin,” I ask.

“I am here for a two-day conference. Do you see those two big tables over there? We are all at the conference. We all work for Harmony Travel. Each year the company takes one member of staff from each store and sends them to a conference. This year, there are sixty of us who are staying at the Kurlinin Lakes Resort.”

Pamela was very forthcoming with information, saying she wanted to get away from the others, as they were all talking about their husbands or boyfriends and then admitting. “I have neither.”

“Why not?” I ask. Something is wrong here. I think to myself. Why does this drop-dead gorgeous woman not have a bloke hanging off her arm?

“Tim, I know we have just met, but can we go for a walk? I need someone to talk to so I can explain what has happened.”

As we left the pub, almost everyone stopped and stared. The rowdy blokes at the bar were ogling her and making lewd suggestions. Some of the travel agent Ladies turned and saw us leave.

Pamela was in front as we walked out, “Turn right once outside,” I said. My view from behind her was perfect. She had love handles forming on her hips, but in no way was she fat. Her hips swayed slightly, and her arse jiggled. Oh yeah, she was a knockout. I’m in lust.

We walked down the main street towards the park, and Pamela took hold of my hand, holding it tight, almost like a security blanket, not wanting to let go.

After a short walk, we took a seat in the park. Pamela had a look of trepidation about her; something was not right. “Tim, can you please listen and not interrupt? I need to get this off my chest; I need a sympathetic ear.”

“No problem,” I replied.

After sitting in silence for a while, she gathered enough courage to tell me her life story, starting from when she got married.

Pamela was married to Kevin at 23. They had a daughter, Caitlyn, three years later, who was born on the same day as Pamela, twenty-six years apart. Then, just before Christmas 2007, they found out Pamela was pregnant with their second child. Two months later, her whole life changed forever.

While at work, Kevin was killed by a semi with a forty-tonne load speeding through a red light. He was the state sales manager for Cooper Tools. But if that was not enough to cope with, a week later, she had a miscarriage, and not surprisingly, a mental breakdown followed shortly afterwards.

Pamela removed herself from society, neglected Caitlyn, and did not care about life in general. To say she was devastated was an understatement.

Her parents got her to move back in with them so they could look after her and Caitlyn.

Pamela visited numerous psychological psychologists who were trying to get her to open up about her thoughts, emotions, behaviour, and stress.

They all told her the same thing. The problem was not physical but mental. It took years for her to start to recover.

After years of solitude, she decided to start dating again, but with no success. Most blokes would run a mile once they knew she was a single mum. Some men just used her for one-night stands, with unfulfilling sex, promising to call but never doing so.

When Caitlyn turned six, Pamela returned to her part-time job as a travel agent and has been there ever since.

She gave up on men five years ago after being so disillusioned and not trusting them. She gave up all hope of finding a decent man until tonight when she laid eyes on me.

In Pamela’s mind, she knew she had to look no further. She liked the rugged looks she saw and thought I looked honest and trustworthy. “What the hell. I am 38, and I would like a man by my side again,” she said.

Pamela looked at her watch, “Tim, I need to be back at the pub by 10 pm. That’s when the coaches are due to collect all the delegates and take us back to the resort.”

We got up and walked back to the pub hand in hand. This time, she did not squeeze so hard. Stopping short of the pub, I turned Pamela towards me, leaning in and kissing her lightly on the lips. Pamela did not pull away; her lips parted, and our tongues entwined as we kissed. I placed my hands on her very sexy arse and squeezed. Pamela swatted my hand away. “Not here, Tim, someone might see.”

We continued walking back to the pub, and I asked, “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you,”

“Do you like seafood?”

“I adore seafood,”

“How about I meet you in reception at the resort at 6.30 tomorrow night? Does that leave you enough time to get ready after your conference?”

“Yes, I will be ready and waiting. I can’t wait to spend more time with you.”

We were both smiling as I walked her back to the table. The look on the faces of the other delegates was priceless, just like stunned mullets.

I knew Pamela was about to be interrogated, so I bent down and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. I wanted to stay and listen, but hopefully Pamela will tell me all about it tomorrow night, and as soon as I was out of earshot, they started with their questions.

Who is that man? What did you two do? Where did you go? Why were you away so long? The questions came so fast that Pamela could not answer quickly enough. She was spinning. “Did you fuck him?” “If you don’t, I will.” Someone called out.

“STOP! Please stop. I know you won’t believe me when I tell you nothing happened, but that’s the truth. We walked to the park, sat on a bench and talked for ninety minutes.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” one of the teenagers replied scornfully.

“We walked back to the pub holding hands, stopped, and Tim kissed me. That’s it, nothing else.”

“Do you mean he didn’t try to feel you up?” Pamela blushed. “See, I knew something else happened. Spill the beans, girl. What did he do to you?” The entire table was looking at Pamela, hanging on her every word.