Chapter 8: The Courtship of Phillipa Goddard; New Year's Eve 1987

Pippa picked me up in her car outside the barracks at about 5pm on New Year's Eve. The party was being held at the home of a Frank and Peggy Sinclair, near Farnborough.

"The Sinclair's place is a mansion" Pippa informed me. "Frank made a fortune in South Africa, diamonds I think. The Sinclair's are big benefactors to the charity and some of the guests will be my fellow workers, quite harmless," she laughed and spun the wheel past a slower car; she was a good driver, fast but careful, "the rest will be business friends of theirs, some not so harmless I'm afraid."

Pippa concentrated on her driving as we weaved through the slow moving traffic in Aldershot town centre, eventually we got out on the Farnborough road and she speeded up.

"Some of the men are quite creepy and their wives aren't much better" she continued, "there will also be a Professor Seymour Nicholls at the 'do', he was my senior tutor at Cambridge, he's a randy old sod but I like him. We called him 'See More Nicks' as he used to stand under the stairs as we girls were walking up and down them. Some of us wouldn't wear our knickers, just to give the old goat a thrill, I'm not saying if I was one of them or not!"

She grinned, and I would have bet a week's pay that she was. Pippa told me more about the Prof, as she referred to him, as we drove along the road towards Farnborough.

"The Prof. is an expert on Native American Indians; he would give his eye teeth to take part in a sweat lodge ceremony. I hope you will be able to give him an account of what happens?"

I was a bit doubtful. "What goes on in the ceremony is a secret. I couldn't tell him very much, probably no more than he already knows. I'm sorry love, I don't want to disappoint you by not making the old goat's evening."

She glanced at me, "Never mind love, just talking to you will give him a thrill" and then she squeezed my hand. That was the first time we both had used the L word.

"Just seeing you will probably give him a bigger thrill, especially if you're not wearing your knickers" I said. Pippa chuckled but said nothing. I half hoped she would give me a preview of if she was wearing some or not, but driving along at 50 mph is probably not the best time or place to check if your companion is wearing underwear.

She was dressed in another Annie Oakley type outfit, this time with a pair of knee high leather boots. The skirt reached to just above her knees, with buttons running down the front from just below the waistband. She wore a ruffle fronted blouse, not unlike the one Emma wore the last time we met. (I wondered if Pippa was wearing lipstick on her nipples, the thought was certainly intriguing). Her bolero jacket was more of a waistcoat, in a light tan suede that matched the colour, if not the material of her skirt. She looked gorgeous and I told her so.

I noted at least 4 buttons were undone from the bottom of the skirt. This may have been to allow Pippa better control of the driving pedals, but seeing sudden flashes of naked thigh above her stocking tops (they must have been hold ups as I saw no suspender straps) as her skirt fell back above mid-thigh at times, was giving John Thomas cause to stir. I shifted in the car seat to get more comfortable in the underwear department.

"What's wrong, Dewey my love, getting cramp?" Pippa grinned at me, knowing full well what was getting cramp. " Never mind we will soon be there." She was right as only a few minutes later we turned off the main road into a wide, gated, driveway.

We drove up a long curving drive towards a huge house, well secluded from the main road by the length of the driveway and the many stands of birch trees. I learned later that the house was called 'Silver Birches'. As Pippa parked the car she told me that the Sinclair's were well known for holding sex parties.

"Wife swapping, group orgies, the full works supposedly. I've never been invited but the Prof. is a frequent visitor by all accounts." I asked if this party was going to end up in an orgy. She considered the question. "Selected people may be invited to stay on for further, more private 'entertainment'," she looked at me closely, "would you be up for participating?"

"I don't want to share you with anyone else," I replied "when we do, if we do, it will be special enough without having anyone else taking part."

I could see that this pleased her; she hugged me and put her cheek next to mine. "I feel the same way" she breathed into my ear, "I shall introduce you as Des. I don't want to share Dewey with anyone else." She tucked her arm in mine and we went up the broad flight of steps to the imposing entrance.

Frank and Peggy Sinclair were a pair of well set up 60 something's. He was a big rangy man, and I could imagine that he had been quite handy with his fists as a young man. He still looked as if he could take care of himself now; she was a small, slim thing, with silver blonde hair, still sexually attractive and must have been a knock out when younger. I could well believe that both of them would enjoy full and active participation in any orgy.

They both greeted Pippa with warm kisses and hugs. She introduced me as Des and I had a firm handshake from him and a kiss on both cheeks from her. They were doing the meeting and greeting in the square shaped entrance hall, and we were then directed to a large room, which seemed to comprise the ground floor of one wing of the mansion, situated on the left of the hall.

The room was set out for a buffet meal; one side of the room had white clothed tables set up with enough food to feed a battalion for a year. In a smaller room, off to one side, there was a fully stocked bar and several comfortable looking armchairs.

The main room had several tables, with well upholstered chairs set round them; about 40 or so people were talking, eating, drinking, laughing and generally having a good time. Pippa and I stood on the edge of this convivial crowd until suddenly a large woman bore down on us, like a galleon in full sail.

"Phillipa darling!" The woman hailed us and came alongside. She was a big woman, not fat, well covered but not fat. She stood about six feet tall, with a great expanse of creamy white flesh exposed above her low cut dress. Obviously she had a bosom that was on a par with Sandra's but not needing any engineering to hold it all in place. Shoulder length, golden curled hair garnished what had to be a great loss to men, for this was Carole, Pippa's erstwhile boss, and lesbian friend. Pippa made the introductions; Carole gave me a cursory glance and a nod.

"I'm going to carry her off, so you better find something to do for the next half hour" she announced, "I've not seen her for months and there's lots to catch up on." With that she and Pippa left for the bar, Pippa glanced back over her shoulder as she was whisked away 'come and get me soon' she mouthed, and smiled that heart stopping smile of hers.

"Irresistible isn't she?" I heard a voice at my shoulder and a tall dark haired bloke, about Pippa's age, was stood there.

"Both of them" I replied, and the bloke smiled and said "Amen to that." He introduced himself as Hugo Masters.

"I was up at Cambridge with Carole and Phillipa and we've kept in touch since then." Hugo also worked for the Poor of the World Charity, at their London HQ, while Carole had moved from the charity to a pharmaceutical company in Slough.

By this time I had a drink in my hand from a circulating waiter, Buck's Fizz ... ugh! Hugo pointed out a few other mutual friends of his and Pippa's, he wasn't a bad sort of chap but I think my Estuary English accent grated on his ears. (It does tend to do that.)

I eventually wandered into the room being used as the bar. I saw Pippa and Carole sat at a table with a couple of other people and made my way over to them. Pippa smiled a greeting as I sat down next to her, but Carole fixed me with a stern gaze.

"I understand that you are in the army?" She made it sound as if I had a sexually transmitted disease, "I've not met a soldier before, how many men have you killed?"

I knew she was Pippa's friend but I couldn't let her get away with something like that.

"I understand that you are a lesbian," I replied "I've not met a lesbian before, how many men have you killed?"

As luck would have it this exchange between Carole and me had been conducted during a brief break in the hubbub going on; the room now fell into a deathly silence. Carole looked amazed at my swift reply, and then she threw back her head and laughed a great belly laugh. Her whole body shook with mirth, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Bloody hell, I deserved that!" She got her breath back and turned to Pippa. "There's more to him than meets the eye."

She got up from the table and looked at me, "You look after her otherwise you will have me to deal with." After delivering that parting shot she went off to find her partner Alice.

I was introduced to the other couple at the table.

Professor Nicholls was aged about 60; his high forehead, his a goatee beard and an unruly mop of silver hair made him the stereotype academic. He was dressed in a Harris Tweed suit, with a spotted bow tie, and he was smoking a Peterson pipe. What made him different to the archetypal Oxbridge university don was his female companion, who was about my age and Essex Girl to perfection. Blonde poodle cut hairstyle, firm out thrust breasts, fake tan and nails, an ankle chain, and slender legs that went all the way up to her armpits. Her skirt was practically non-existent and she spoke in an accent even worse than mine.

"Pleezed t'meetcha'" she said when introduced by the Prof as 'Candy, my doxy for tonight!'

The Prof. started asking questions about the sweat lodge ceremony and it was obvious he was an expert in all things American Indian (as he called them). He spoke the Blackfoot language, which I hadn't really got to grips with. He knew I wouldn't be able to give answers on questions about the actual ceremony but he asked how I felt before during and after the ritual. In fact he was very good at asking questions and I gave him as much information as I could. He knew that the Dream Catcher interprets the dreams/visions one has whilst undergoing the ceremony, and he asked me about my visions during the ritual, and if the Dream Catcher had given me advice concerning the visions. He also asked if the advice, if followed, had been of use. I told him, rather ruefully, that the Dream Catcher had given me advice but either I hadn't understood it correctly or else Dream Catching didn't work on a white man's visions as his advice had led, more or less, to the fracturing of my marriage.

Pippa, who was listening in whilst trying to maintain a conversation with Candy, looked over at me and gave a little smile of consolation; I hadn't told her how or why I broke up with Miriam, just that I had.

The Prof. hadn't come across the Greenjacket clan, but he had heard of the Southern People band.

"They were originally from the Montana area of the US, which is why they are known as the Southern People to the other Peigan bands," he enlightened me, "the band moved north over the 'Invisible Fence' in the 1880s, when the US army started the program of ethnic cleansing and genocide against the American Indians. The few Peigans remaining in the US are probably related to your Southern People band."

I knew very little about the Southern People band, or indeed even the Peigan tribe, and couldn't answer his further questions as to who the current chief of the band was. All I knew was that Lone Elk was the band's Dream Catcher, and that he belonged to the Greenjacket clan.

"What fascinating insights you have had into an American Indian tribe" the Prof said, "I really envy you, and the fact that you are escorting the delectable Phillipa tonight; truly the Great Spirit has been good to you."

"Aeei" I replied (the only Blackfoot word I knew, which roughly translates as 'too bloody right!')

"But I'm neglecting my duties as co- host to this shindig" said the Prof, "let us repair to the bar and obtain some liquid refreshments. Ladies." He bowed to Pippa and Candy and led the way up to the bar.

A thin, blonde haired, woman was bending down behind the bar, getting a mixer from a shelf. The Prof. rapped on the bar with the bowl of his pipe.

"Serving wench" he boomed, "two of your best foaming flagons of ale for my friend and myself, quick as you like."

The woman straightened up, and it was then obvious that she wasn't a bar maid, nor very pleased to be thought to be one. Her thin face must have been lifted many times because it looked like she had just sucked on a lemon, and the flat chest she displayed may have been because her implants were still being worked on in the body shop. She spoke in a refined upper class accent, which made what she said sound even more shocking.

"Fuck off, you pissed old cunt" she said, addressing the surprised Professor. "Get your own fucking drinks, I'm not a fucking barmaid!"

Utter silence followed this outburst. The Professor was stuck dumb (which didn't happen often I reckon). The poor old bloke was embarrassed, and I could see him frantically trying to regain his dignity, so in I jumped with both feet.

"Nah" I said, in my best Cockney accent (although technically I'm not one) "you ain't got the boat nor the frupennies to be one!"

The silence was punctuated by a loud, dirty laugh. Candy, being an Essex girl had realised what I had said and had let rip. Her laugh was the sort that made people join in and amongst the laughter I heard Pippa's musical tones, although I doubt she had understood what I had said.

But someone else, unexpectedly, had. Carole strode behind the bar and shooed the thin faced virago away. "But I have both! What is your pleasure gentleman?" She said.

The Prof had gone pale but had regained his composure.

"I'd better have a double brandy, for the shock you understand. What about you, my costermonger friend, will it be a brown ale?"

Patronising old sod, and after I had got him out of a sticky situation, typical middle class!

"I'll have my usual if I may Carole." I spoke in, almost, Received Pronunciation English. "A Bacardi and bitter lemon, no ice."