Friday, 13 July 2012

An Antidote To Writers Block (Part 09) Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen part one

Well the last couple of weeks had been quite quiet for me, after successive overnighters firstly with Dr Claire and her medicine bag and then cousin Molly with her insatiable appetite I was spent, oh and I mustn’t forget to mention the little interlude with mousy Doreen on the train.
So I took myself out of circulation for a couple of weeks, partly because Georgia was going away with her folks for ten days but mainly to recharge the batteries which also allowed me to catch up with my writing.
Recent events had provided me with a wealth of material and I managed to produce around a 100,000 words of slutty drivel.
Well I thought it was time to end my self-imposed exile and so I stepped out into the sunlight to find Frankie working up a sweat cutting the grass. She had just stopped to empty the grass box and bent over offering me the ideal opportunity for a grope so I grabbed a handful of her arse.
She jumped straight up and punched my arm.
“So you’re not dead then” she said
“No rumors’ of my demise have been greatly exaggerated” I paraphrased.
“Hmm, pity” she barked
At that moment Maisie appeared wearing identical dungarees as Frankie carrying some empty sacks.
“Hello Mr. Fisher” she shouted
“Hi Maisie” I shouted back
Then in a lower voice I said to Frankie
“How’s she doing?” nodding in Maisie’s direction
“Excellently” Frankie replied beaming
“She a quick learner, hard working, eager and reliable”
“I couldn’t ask for better, and she’s a real sweetie” she said
I left them to their toil in the soil and made my way across to the Golf club, but not to play.
It was the Summer Ball the next day and I hadn’t bought my ticket yet.
As I crossed the 18th fairway I caught sight of Pandora sitting alone at one of the tables and I noticed she was wearing the same outfit she had on when we made love in the woods by the 17th green, and the thought of that caused a stirring in my pants.
I guessed she was probably preparing for a round, maybe waiting for her partner.
I quickened my stride and as luck would have it, or so I thought, I caught her eye and I gave her a wave, but instead of waving back she gathered up her things and hurried away.
“Very odd” I thought
Next I made my way to Agnes Snipes office to buy my ticket. Agnes was a very stern looking young woman with short brown hair who managed the commercial side of the Golf club.
She never smiled and always peered superciliously over her specs at everyone, not a joyful person by any means.
I knocked at the door and met with a surly monosyllabic response
“Come” it uttered
So I went,
“Good morning Miss Snipe and how are you today”
“What do you want Mr. Fisher?” she snapped
“I’m very busy”
Trying to maintain my mood I persevered.
“A ticket for the Ball please Miss Snipe”
“Just the one?” she replied, “Not bringing a guest?”
“No just me”, I thought just for a moment I detected the merest hint of a smile.
“£70” she said getting up and walking over to a filling cabinet.
I followed very close behind and positioned myself so that as she opened the draw she would have to step back and plant her stuck up bony little arse cheek right in my waiting hand.
It worked perfectly her right buttock reversed right against my palm so I gave it a little squeeze.
“For goodness sake Mr. Fisher” she barked
“I’m terribly sorry Miss Snipe, truly I am”
“£70” she snapped
I took at my wallet and paid her in cash, she took the money and along with the ticket gave me a look that said
“Why are you still here? I have more important things to be doing”
“Good bye Miss Snipe and thank you” I said insincerely “Sorry again for my clumsiness”
What I was actually thinking was someone needs to bend you over that desk one-day Miss tight arse.

I had lunch at the club and a few drinks at the bar so I could touch base with Georgia who I hadn’t seen since she got back from Greece.
She was working all weekend, because of the Summer Ball so I wouldn’t see her properly until Sunday evening when I would give her a proper hello.
She was able to grab a 20-minute break and we sat in a quiet corner of the bar where we could at least steal an occasional kiss.
I even managed to cop a feel of one of her choice titties.
Alas she wouldn’t show me her white bits, but as she was getting up to go back to work I did get my hand up her skirt high enough to reach her gusset before she slapped me.
Lots more for me to investigate and explore when I get her bare arsed at my place on Sunday.

It was mid afternoon when I stepped back out into the sun and I spotted Pandora again this time by the 18th green, I approached her on her blindside so she couldn’t run off again.
When I was a few feet away I said
“I think you’ve been avoiding me”
Pandora jumped and immediately became flustered
“No, no not at all” she corrected me
“I think you have,” I repeated “why?”
Pandora didn’t say anything for about a minute
“Please tell me Pandy,” I entreated
“Because I feel guilty,” She snapped
“You don’t need to feel guilty Pandora, I took you remember, I gave you little choice.”
“I don’t feel guilty because it happened” She said
“Then why”?
“Because I liked it”
“Because it was dirty”
“Because it was exciting”
Pandora paused then continued
“And because I came like I never came before”
Then she hurried away pulling her golf trolley, but stopped and turned after a few paces and said
“But most of all I feel guilty because I want to do it again”
And then she was gone, I thought for a moment before I hurried after her
“Pandy?” I called but she kept going so I pressed on after her instead
Pandora was stood by her car when I caught up with her
“Do you mean it”?
“Yes” she replied reluctantly “but it can never happen again”
“Because I’m a wife and a mother”
Then she added almost as an after thought
“And I love my husband”
She may have once but not so much now I thought.
Her husband was often away on business and when he wasn’t he was in the members bar at the Golf club supposedly in his capacity of club captain.
I thought Pandora was clearly lonely which she didn’t deserve to be.
She carried on putting her clubs in the boot; but I put my right hand on the edge of the boot, preventing her.
“Do you think about that day?”
“Yes” she said
“And when you’re alone in your bed” I asked
She reddened then nodded
“Do you touch yourself as you remember”?
“Do you stroke yourself off under the duvet while you recall what we did in the woods, what I did to you in the woods?”
“Don’t make fun of me, don’t make fun of it” and she started to cry
“I’m not making fun of you,” I said taking hold of her hand
“I think of it all the time” I said “It excites me too”
“I think of you, in that outfit”.
She squeezed my hand
“In the woods, me inside you”
“So do I,” she gasped
She squeezed my hand again and then lent forward pinning my hand between the car and her pubis.
We didn’t speak; the only sound was her steady breathing and the birdsong.
I rubbed my thumb on the fatty flesh of her mound gently and methodically and I watched her, her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her tongue slightly moistening them as she breathed.
Just then a group of golfers walked by and the spell was broken she let go of one hand and stepped out of range of the other.
She grabbed her Golf bag and threw it in the boot quickly and slammed it shut.
“Please don’t avoid me Pandy”
“I won’t” she said, “I promise. But I meant what I said”
Then she drove away, I would look for her tomorrow and see what could be done, I thought to myself, a distinct semi in my trousers.
Her mouth may be saying no but I’m sure her lips were saying yes.

After Pandora drove away moist lipped from the Golf club I found myself standing semi hard in the member’s car park.
So I didn’t go home by the usual route across the 18th, instead I walked out of the gate and turned left to follow the path that threaded its way through the woods that bordered the 18th, In fact the opposite end of the path I was following the night I bumped into Victoria Braithwaite.
As I meandered my way along the path I heard a voice behind me.
“Wait for me Simon” it, said, “wait for me”
I turned around but I couldn’t see who it was
“Wait for me” they continued shouting a little louder this time
And then crash.
A schoolgirl came running around an oak tree and hurtled straight into me and we both ended up on the floor.
It was young Emily Gomez
“Ouch” she said rubbing her left knee, and I got a quick flash of white knicker against her dark skin.
“Are you ok?” I asked as I helped her to her feet.
“Just scrapped my knee a bit,” she said laughing
“I didn’t think I was that close to you”
She was a very pretty girl, five foot one with Jet-black hair and dark dusky skin, I think that her father was Spanish and her mother was from the Philippines what ever the origins Emily was a beautiful colour.
“Happy birthday by the way” I said suddenly remembering “16”
Or put another way I thought to myself “legal”.

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