It was odd the way some things all at once were strange and familiar.
Of course, it was simply that I hadn’t been back to my hometown all that much in the past two years and only the summers and Christmas for the three before that. I was on my way to becoming an architect, following in my father’s footsteps and five years in, two to go, I had a choice. I could drop out now and simply be qualified as a structural designer/engineer or finish the course.
For the last two summers, I had been a paid intern at a firm in my university city, thanks to my father’s connections for the introduction and had apparently earned my place on merit soon afterwards. It had seemed my father had insisted to Richard, my boss, that I shouldn’t be shown any preferential treatment and if I wasn’t up to it that he wouldn’t hold it against my friend if he let me go.
Initially, I’d been angry at my father and sulkily not gone home before I restarted the next year. It was that Christmas, somewhat calmer that I asked him about it.
“Well, I knew you wouldn’t need it and I knew Richard would be a fool to let you go. To be honest, it was more for Richard than you, he’d have treated you softly and you wouldn’t have learned half as much, just remember you learn twice as much by your mistakes and half as much by your successes.” he’d answered me with his favourite quote and shrugged his shoulders. He saw I wasn’t totally satisfied and added, “I never had any doubt about you. Ever.”
With university and the internship with Richard, I only got home infrequently over the next nineteen months. I decided this summer I needed a break to decide on my future and first of all it was to spend the first part back home with family and friends.
Maybe I should’ve let them know I was coming?
I’d thought a surprise was a good choice. Luckily, they hadn’t changed the locks and a few moments after disabling the alarm system I got a video call from my mom.
“Paul!” she almost screamed into the phone.
“Surprise,” I said weakly.
“It is, it is… if we’d known,” she replied spinning the phone about for my dad and ‘aunty’ Mel to wave at me.
“It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise,” I answered dropping my duffle bag to the floor.
“I guess not,” she admitted, “Sorry, but we’re over in Lichfield, it’s Mel’s thirty-sixth birthday!”
“I prefer the term, twenty-sixteen, Allie,” I heard my nominal ‘aunty’ pipe up.
“Happy Birthday, Aunty,” I called.
“Calling me aunty! Did you miss the twenty-sixteen remark?” she asked as the phone span towards her.
“Sorry. Happy Birthday, Mel.” I corrected.
“Thank you, baby,” she answered with a grin.
The phone span back, “Your sister is over with, Michaela, next door, they’ll scream when they see you!” my mom stated.
I looked through the adjacent window and saw the house in darkness, “Hmm…” I pondered.
The phone wobbled and turned to my dad, “Creep in the back, son and they will definitely scream,” he grinned.
“Michael!” “Michael!” I heard both women exclaim. He grinned and raised his eyebrows at me.
The phone moved back to my mother shaking her head but also smiling, “The freezer drawer is full, there’s some Cannelloni in there, that’ll need defrosting and nuking… You know where everything is. Mel is staying over tonight… in the spare bedroom… Vanessa is staying with Michaela… it’ll be gone one before we get home so if we don’t see you later, we’ll see you in the morning.”
“Love you, Mom,” I answered.
“Love you, Paul,” she replied twisting the phone.
“Love you, son.”
Love you, Dad.” Another twist.
“Love you, baby,” grinned Mel.
“Love you, Aunty,” I answered and got the finger.
Bye and bye and bye radiated out from the phone before I hung up.
I was so glad my ‘aunty’ Mel wasn’t actually blood-related, I’d quite forgotten the crush I had on her just as soon as I’d entered puberty.
****
“Can you seriously stop flirting with our son?” Allie asked.
“Moi?” responded Mel, “I can’t help it if he takes after his father?”
“You’re incorrigible,” Michael answered.
Beneath the table, Mel felt two hands, one slim and delicate, the other rough and calloused squeeze her thighs bare inches away from her nude, especially shaven for tonight, dripping pussy.
She sighed and then bit her lip, “Let’s hope Paul crashes at mine, tonight… cause this birthday girl knows she’s gonna want to scream!”
****
My mother was a really good cook but Dad’s Cannelloni was simply superb. I defrosted it and heated it up in the microwave and grabbed a little salad. Unfortunately, there was none of my mom’s salad dressing and I attempted to copy it once again and failed to get the balance of honey and white wine vinegar quite right. Still, the pasta dish was the star.
I quickly grabbed a shower, dressed and headed out into the town. Locally we all called it the town but the truth was it was only a village but up until recently it had been the largest village in England and it was a small price to pay not to have the many new estates that were popping up all over. There were seven public houses in the village and five of them were the territory of the older generation. Of the other two, The Royal Oak, situated a quarter of a mile outside the village and with no close neighbours also had a converted barn out the back of it which was almost a nightclub. On a Friday night that was where I’d find my friends.
As for my sister Nessie. and Michaela, they weren’t next door and with the younger being only seventeen I figured they were at a friend’s house.
It was as I was standing in the appropriately named Barn-Club, that the sensation of strange and familiar washed over me. I had a couple of pints in the Pub proper with three old friends before we headed out back into the club. One of the advantages of the club was it attracted all the young adults from the surrounding villages and even a couple of the ‘proper’ towns as its closing time generally depended on what mood the Landlord, Ken, was in. So generally, the crowd was a mixture of familiar faces from the village and ‘strangers from beyond’ to use the local vernacular.
It wasn’t the crowd that instilled the odd sensation and at first, I was at a loss to understand it. Has Ken used some paint, for once? I wondered. He hadn’t changed the mixing desk which was the front section of a haulage truck with a ridiculous number of headlights attached along the bumper and above the vacant windscreen and had been styled as if it had crashed through the wall. The bar seemed no different and the toilets still left something to be desired.
A fresh song burst out from the speakers and it seemed to jar with me. I laughed as I snaked my way to the bar and I finally realised what it was. Looking at the crowd was also a giveaway.
At the age of twenty-three years, I was feeling old!
I managed to get to the bar, looking over my shoulder I realised the two friends I’d met here were now busy on the dance floor with their girlfriends and figured I was now on my own.
Getting the barman’s attention was proving difficult until the person beside me pointed out that I had been there before her. I placed my order of an Irish whiskey, double and turned to look at my benefactor.
She had definitely not been at the bar before me. I wouldn’t have missed the ‘cum-fuck-me’ little black dress and the slim figure within it. The dress was feminine but the half-inch of hair on her head was anything but. It struck me as extremely incongruous but it made a statement, not sure what it was, but I liked it.
I leaned down close to her ear and said loudly above the music, “Thanks, you’re a knight in shining armour.”
I caught a whiff of her familiar perfume but couldn’t place it. She turned her mouth to my ear and replied, “Not as if I could leave a damsel in distress!”
I laughed loudly and if I’d thought she was attractive before her smile, it had now doubled. My drink arrived, I tapped my card and she mouthed “May I?” pointing at it. I nodded and she took a sip. Her nostrils flared slightly and she ordered the same and a bottle of Corona. When they arrived, she tapped her card, I noted her slim fingers covering the entirety of the card as she did.
Her mouth moved to my ear, “A nice drop, I was getting a little full with lager.”
We chinked glasses and both took a sip. We both took the opportunity to appraise the other. I reckoned she was about twenty and so unlikely that I had seen her in here before, partly for how long it had been since I was last here and also, I reckoned I would’ve remembered her eighteen-year-old self as well.
She smiled that smile again and nodded to the left. I happily nodded back glad that for at least a little while I wouldn’t be a gooseberry. We headed to the far end of the bar and round a corner into an area of seats and high tables in the centre. It was screened somewhat from the noise and made it easier to talk. The major preoccupation in the area was kissing and fondling, maybe only one in seven were not actually involved in pursuits of the intimate kind.
One of the high tables was empty and she placed her glass and the bottle upon it where I joined her. “So, you’re a stranger here?” she asked.
“Born and bred, actually,” I replied, “But, it has been a while.”
She was easy to look at, although the couple over her shoulder intent on playing magic tricks with their hands was distracting, I shifted a little only to be confronted with obvious hands groping breasts on the next crotch. “So, guessing you’re… twenty-three?” I nodded.
“Twenty?” I offered.
“Good guess,” she answered, “So, you don’t remember me from school?”
“I guess when I was leaving you would have been termed jail-bait,” I replied.
“True,” she conceded and I noted a mischievous glint in her eyes, “But, I remember you… playing Rugby, yes, especially the game against Lichfield High!” she smirked.
“Oh!” I answered and wondered in the dim light how obvious it was that I was blushing. “Yeah… I remember that game, scored two tries, I think.”
She nodded agreement, “Yes, the second one without any shorts!” she laughed loudly gaining brief glances from some of the ‘very occupied’ in the area.
I looked down at the table, “Yes… I may have had a wardrobe malfunction.”
“Shame you were wearing a jockstrap,” she commented and I looked up to see her staring at the table in direct line with my crotch.
I shook my head, “Yep, I remember it well… the amount of ribbing I got!”
“I seem to remember you got other attention, too!” she grinned.
“Wait a minute, were you part of those year elevens?” I asked trying to picture the group of fifteen/sixteen-year-olds that often followed me in school and were my ardent fans on the side of the pitch.
“No… it was funny to see you trying not to run away from them but really wanting to!”
“Thank God for the sixth form common room… I actually couldn’t use the library for the last term of school ‘cause of them,” I replied.
“Carter, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, Paul,” I offered.
She reached out her hand, that smile lighting up her face again, “Kay, pleased to meet the renowned ‘Hooker-Stripper’!”
“For fuck’s sake… sorry,” I grinned, “I’d completely forgotten about that.”
“Seriously, you became a legend,” she continued, “The next year it seemed like all the girls in the top three years had been at that Rugby match… the myth became that you weren’t wearing anything under your shorts,” I raised my eyebrow, “And, well, Paul ‘Horse-Cock’ Carter was born!”
She smirked and lifted her drink to her red-lipsticked mouth and took a slow slip, her eyes full of that mischievous quality. “Good job I went to Uni’ then, definitely not a ‘Horse-Cock’, maybe a Shetland Pony-Cock… but to be honest I have no idea how well or unwell they’re endowed!”
Kay put down her glass and lifted her hands holding them a foot apart. I stared incredulously that she actually knew. She burst out laughing again attracting disgruntled stares from those bent on carnal desire. “I’ve no idea how big a Shetland Pony’s cock is, but the look on your face… you’re quite gullible, aren’t you, Paul?”
“Does mischief run in your family?” I questioned.
“Oh, definitely… more so on the female side!” she answered with a grin.
I shook my head, I really liked this girl and hoped that the night would last. “Hold that thought!” she stated and picked up the bottle of beer. “Be right back… Horse-Cock, Hooker-Stripper!” I listened to her laughter fade as she moved away. My eyes of course were focused on the roll of her hips and her shapely ass. If I’d thought it’d been a ‘cum-fuck-me’ dress before, I wasn’t sure there had been a name invented for it. A diamond shape was cut out of the back that was held with a single fastening at the top and descended so far it seemed impossible that you couldn’t see the top of her ass cleavage. No bra and even though her breasts weren’t large, they obviously needed no support whatsoever. She disappeared into the crowd and I turned back to the table and furtively adjusted my ’dress’ within my jeans.
Obviously not furtive enough as a blonde, her head resting on her partner’s shoulder and hands nowhere to be seen smiled, licked her lips and winked at me. I shrugged in reply briefly wondering if she knew me as ‘Horse-Cock’ Carter.
It seemed an age before Kay returned but I’m sure it was only five minutes when she reappeared and lifted her glass emptying the last of the Jameson from it. “Come on,” she said grabbing my hand. I grabbed my own glass and emptied it as well and let her drag me through the crowd. A moment later we were on the dance floor.
The song was mid-tempo and our bodies glanced against each other. I was happy. there were other songs that because of their pacing I just naturally felt uncomfortable with. it was weird, really fast and mid and lower I was fine with, but there was a rhythm or a beat between mid and fast that I simply just couldn’t handle.
The next song went a little slower and our glances became slides. The next song after that and the beat dropped again. Kay just folded into me without a second thought; second thoughts seemed to be prevailing in my mind.
As we danced, I looked over the other heads in the crowd and saw the bar, I saw Ken, the landlord, stalking the waiting line of punters and knew the night was about to be curtailed. The next song dropped three beats.
Slow dances!
I dropped my arms, allowing Kay to make any decision. An almost reflex reaction of my own.
Her mouth went to my ear as Meatloaf professed, ‘Baby, we could talk all night,’.
“You seem happier with this tempo of music?” Her hand rested on my hip and I echoed the movement.
