Chapter 12

Friday 6th November 1970

I phoned for a taxi and waited outside the pub. At first as I waited I seethed. How dare she ruin our little celebration. Nothing from her for six months and then she muscles in on our party.

Of course I immediately realised this was stupid. Penny no more knew of our booking than we knew of hers, and come to think of it, we probably destroyed her evening more comprehensively than she did ours. There was a fleeting naughty feeling of satisfaction at that before I banished it. I wondered what her double barrelled fiancé made of it.

With the residue of those feelings still fresh, I began to think about her again. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help it.

The information was clear enough. Penny thought I was cheating, unfaithful. So questions arose from this. Did she confide in Martin as a friend, and this turned into a love affair? Did she mistakenly take Patty’s suspicions as certainty? Was this why she didn’t confront me? Or after accepting my proposal, did she get cold feet and this gave her the ideal opportunity to get out of it? Was she one of those people who could not face others to break up with them? But why did she have to lie about where she was that evening? Was it on the spur of the moment to keep me at arm’s length?

This was all swirling round in my head when the taxi arrived and thankfully the driver had a wealth of opinions on Heath’s new government, the local football team and the immigration ‘problem’ to take my mind off the mess I saw around me.

Three pairs of eyes were fixed on me as I entered the living room. I felt a sense of persecution. I was expected to reveal all. There was a moment of annoyance, then I saw that the expectation was out of love and friendship. I sighed and told them as much as I could remember. When I had finished, the group were quiet.

It was Harriet who broke the silence. “I know it’s her own fault, but I feel sorry for her having her evening ruined.”

“How do you feel?” asked Zena.

“Too many conflicting feelings and thoughts,” I replied.

“Brought everything back to the boil?” asked Colette.

“Hardly the boil,” I laughed, “but all the old questions and some new ones are back and I don’t like that. I really thought it was all over; now it’s back.”

“She’s got a lot to think about, that’s true,” said Harriet. “Can you imagine what’s going through her mind now. How guilty she must feel? She got everything wrong; wrong about your guilt, wrong about sleeping with that other guy, wrong about not telling you, knowing that if she’d just confronted you everything would have been different. Wouldn’t like to be in her shoes tonight.”

“That’s if she believes it,” I said, “or accepts it. She’s got to answer to her fiancé, who’ll be asking questions if I’m not mistaken. More lies, I wonder?”

“She had it coming,” asserted Zena, “Swanning off to some other guy like that. And it’s not taken her long to get engaged again, has it?”

“You don’t know that, Sweetie,” rejoined Colette. “I’ll bet she was devastated when she thought Graham here had cheated. I’ll bet she cried for days and nights, and all that in the middle of her final teaching practice.”

“Yes,” added Harriet, “she would have been so down, she would have fallen into that other guy’s arms. It would have been easy for him to take advantage. Graham, I have a memory that you said she hadn’t had many men friends, you know, relationships. Perhaps she was naïve?”

“Come on, girls,” Zena said with some exasperation. “She was engaged to Graham. You can’t get away from the fact that she should have at least talked to him. She didn’t. That’s her fault.

“OK, it’s bitten her in the arse now, but that’s what happens when you bugger people about. Sooner or later you pay, as she’s paying now. Graham’s been paying for months, always in the dark as to what was going on.”

“Well,” said Harriet, “he knows now.”

“Ladies,” I intervened testily, “I am here you know! Thanks for those thoughts. I do appreciate them. Now I want to let it all slip back into the past, and I want to start by going to bed. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“Thanks for that deep insightful thought, Graham,” said Colette, laughing. “You’re right though. Time we all went home.”

“Hang on,” said Zena. “I don’t think Graham should be alone tonight. He needs some tender loving care. Colette?”

“Zena, I don’t think–” I ventured.

“Be quiet, Graham,” Zena retorted. “We’re looking after you. You don’t get a say. One of us will stay tonight – Colette?” She repeated the request to my sometime bedmate.

I shrugged. Then got a surprise.

“I’ll stay,” said Harriet. “Graham and I have been through the same troubles.”

“But Harriet–” began Colette.

“I said I’ll stay with him. OK?“ Harriet said belligerently.

Colette cast an interrogative glance my way. I shrugged, trying to keep up. Colette and Zena then smiled uncertainly, and backed off. We all knew what we were thinking: Harriet had never shared my bed, we were like brother and sister, so what was going on here? Incest?

“Harriet you don’t have to, you know,” I offered. I felt rather sidelined.

“I know I don’t,” she said with a gentle smile, “I want to, but if you tell me–”

“No, please,” I said. “Stay.”

She smiled with satisfaction, and the other two looked on in awe. Then Colette smiled her agreement. That girl had not an ounce of jealousy in her makeup.

After Colette and Zena had gone, I showed Harriet to the second bedroom.

“This where you sleep?” she asked.

“No this is the guest room. My room is back there,” indicating the next door down.

“Come on,” she said leading the way.

I gave up, and did as I was told. She used the bathroom and then I took my turn.

As I turned to go, she asked “Do you wear anything in bed?”

“Not usually,” I faltered, “but–”

“Fine,” she said, and turned away. I left to wash.

When I returned she was already in bed, completely covered but sitting up enough to show she was nude. She watched me carefully as I debated for a split second whether to strip completely. I unbuttoned and removed my shirt, shedding shoes and socks next before slipping down my trousers. I paused, then pushed my briefs down. She smiled, flipped the duvet off my side of the bed, revealing her whole body in the process, as by that action she invited me in. She smiled again. So did I, she was gorgeous naked.

I settled in on my back and she came into my arms, resting her head on my shoulder, and pressing her sharp little tits against my chest, her mound against my thigh. Her upper leg found its way over, bringing her still closer. Everything felt small apart from her length. She sighed.

“You don’t mind?” she asked, with a grin, raising her head to look at me.

“Bit late for that if I do,” I returned, “but I don’t, not at all.”

“Good, because this evening was about me getting over Kieran as well.”

“Kind of got lost in the mêlée,” I suggested.

“You and me both,” she said reflectively, and wriggled against me getting more comfortable. Her slender form was a turn on for its very different feel. My cock stirred.

She lay still for a moment or two, then, “Time to celebrate a little?”

My cock stirred again, a little more enthusiastically. I knew she felt it for she made a sound between a moan and a giggle. This was a side of Harriet I had never seen. If she treated Kieran like this, the man was a raving lunatic to break up with her.

Further thought was interrupted as her hand snaked down to become acquainted with my best friend. She traced over it, then hefted it, then fondled my balls before beginning a slow stroke which had it standing at full mast in no time at all. She gave a sigh.

“I want you,” she said, “Make love to me. Please.”

“You’re sure? Really?”

“Graham, sweetheart, I’ve never been so sure.” A pause. “No matter what.”

I didn’t understand the latter bit, but I did understand the former. A woman beautiful and catwalk model shapely, asked me to make love; not fuck, make love. This woman with whom I had become fast friends, with much in common, close by – she was naked, she was playing with my balls and wanking me gently. No contest.

I reared up allowing her to fall back onto the pillow, on her back, and kissed her mouth. Our lips roamed over each other’s, opening and allowing tongues to invade and retreat. It was gentle, sweet, rather than passionate and aggressive. Her fingers had left my nethers and were now twining themselves in my hair. She was laying herself open. I had hair in those days – she’d have a job on trying to do that now!