Elizabeth

Last Wednesday I couldn’t see Mary. Simon was again not going to Birmingham. It seemed to be happening more often and I wondered if he suspected something. It seemed doubtful as he is such a workaholic I felt it unlikely he’d stop his work schedule just to put a spanner in our sexual liaisons. Sunday’s meet with Mary seems to have bourne that out.

Anyway, it meant plan B. Elizabeth. Johns mother. (If you’re asking yourself who is John I suggest you read this. https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/a-text-book-seduction-part1-a131dbf4bf5f) I’d go to hockey training and see if I could ingratiate myself with her!

I’d met Elizabeth in my last session (she’d made a definite point of telling me ‘it’s Elizabeth, not Liz’ in our introduction) and I took a liking to her immediately. Well, at least I told myself I had. More probably I decided to like her because she had a teenage (19) son who I wanted to experiment on. God Dr. Mengele reincarnated! I can assure you John enjoyed my company! (Again see my earlier blog for an explanation)

No, to be honest I did like her. She seemed personable and friendly and when we ended up exercising together I found I liked her more. Son or no son. She had a wicked sense of humour and we spent more time laughing than practicing. As the session finished I asked if she fancied a drink before going home. There was an ulterior motive. I was eager to discover if she had any leanings toward having some sexy fun. With or without her husband. I was gathering a select group around me and my requirement for more and more deviant sex was leading me to new pastures. Hopefully.

She said she’d love to but had promised to pick John up from a late lecture he was attending. However, she phoned me on Saturday to suggest we meet on Monday for a social drink which I readily agreed to.

I hoped this might lead somewhere but hadn’t assumed it would so wasn’t dressed for anything sexy. I wore a jumper and jeans. Turning up in skirt and stockings et al would look decidedly odd.

We chatted inanely for a bit, then I asked if John was happy with the books I’d given him.

“Very much as far as I can tell. That subject had seemed to be the one he was struggling with, the one he didn’t particularly like but I get the impression that’s changing. (I wonder why?) Difficult to tell really after all he is a teenager and moods are a bit variable.”

“That’s good,” I replied, “don’t forget my offer. He’s welcome to pop round any time and I’ll help out with anything he’s struggling with.” (Like getting his cock out of his trousers).

“That’s kind of you. Just getting him out of the house can be an issue.” I saw an opening. A bit premature perhaps but it might not arise again.

“Yes, I’m sure you and Chris would welcome it. A bit of private time. I seem to remember having a teen around put a damper on some of our fun.” I left it as vague as possible. She was hardly a bosom buddy and starting to talk about her sex life was a risk.

She smiled. “I assume fun is a euphemism for sex. No, it’s not an issue. John spends his life with earphones on and I’m not overly noisy.”

I feigned embarrassment. “Oh my god. Sorry no! I really didn’t mean that!”

She looked sideways at me as she took a sip of her wine. “No? Oh, must just be my dirty mind at work then.” She couldn’t hide the smile.

“My fault,” I continued, “since my divorce it took a long while, but I’ve now got rather keen on the subject.” She roared. “Well, that’s honest. I can’t think of having a discussion about sex with many — any — of my friends before. Not since sixth form anyway.”

“Quite right too. Bad subject. Needs to be taboo. Kept in the bedroom.” I tried to say it with a straight face and a dollop of sarcasm so she could take it either way and continue the conversation or start talking about something entirely different. I waited hopefully.

She took another sip of wine. “Well, yes perhaps you’re right. Personally, I’m open to talk about sex generally just not sure I’d want to spill the beans about what we get up together.”

Not the perfect answer but it was far too early in our friendship to realistically think she would.

“Oh please no! Not sure I’d want that anyway. I need to be honest, I’m still off men following my divorce.”

“Off men? Does that mean…” she hesitated. I saved her embarrassment.

“Yes, I like women. Oh, but please. I’m not here to try and seduce you!” Liar!

“Ha. You’d have an uphill task. I’m definitely hetro. I remember trying something at sixth form with another girl and it proved a disaster. Can’t quite recall why but I’ve never been tempted since. What pushed you that way?”

Another bit of bad news, but then I can’t expect every woman I fancy to want to jump into bed with me. She did seem open about the subject so I gave her a potted history of my emergence from the slough of despond although I left out all the kinky stuff — any reference to Carol and Katie’s mother-daughter relationship, watersports, flashing. It was a risk anyway. I was worried if she decided I was a walking sex pest she might not like the idea of John popping round

“Oh boy, you’ve had an exciting time.”

“Yes, I guess I have. Making up for lost time.”

“Yes, so sorry about your problems I’ve been very lucky. Chris is all I want and we seem to keep it varied.”

I thought I’d pushed the subject enough. Her replies didn’t seem to indicate a likely bedmate and I did enjoy her company so didn’t want to alienate her by banging on about sex. I was about to change the subject when she said, “Mind you, I quite fancy that guy standing at the bar.” She wasn’t serious I could tell, but she seemed happy to remain on topic. I followed her gaze and nearly spat my wine out. The only person standing at the bar was a man, probably in his fifties, bald headed and with a girth that must have been approaching a metre and a half, dressed as though he’d just lost a fight with a rubbish skip.

“I admire your taste,” I replied. “Don’t let me cramp your style if you want to chat him up.”

“You’re too kind. Not your type?”

“He’s got a cock hasn’t he? Mind you, you’d probably have trouble finding it under those layers.”

“Imagine a missionary style fuck with him.”

“I doubt I’d survive. Like being crushed by a bulldozer. I’d definitely want to be on top.”

“Me too. Which way would you face?”

“Back to him without a doubt. I can’t see how else my pussy would get near his cock.”

“You could ski down his belly.”

By the time we’d finished our virtual destruction of that poor man, we were in hysterics.

The laughter subsided and we finished our drinks. We were both driving so another glass was not an option but I said yes to a soft drink.

She brought the drinks back.

“This’s been fun. How about coming round for supper one evening. Chris would love to meet you properly and as you’re anti men I know you won’t be trying to seduce him!”

“Have others?”

“One. Someone I thought a good friend.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It was but it did make me up my game.”

“Pardon?”

“Get sexier, experiment a bit. Wear sexy undies again.”

“Oh, I thought we weren’t talking about what went on in the bedroom!”

“Not really are we? Not as if I’m telling you I started experimenting with…”

She stopped herself. Looked into my eyes. “Do you have mystic powers?”

I laughed. “What?”

“I said I wasn’t going to tell you what happens when I’m in the bedroom and there I am almost telling you. Hypnotism or something?”

“Haha hardly. Perhaps I’m a good listener or perhaps subconsciously you do want to talk about it. I’m a great believer in the subconscious running our lives.”

“Mmm.”

“So go on, you got this far. Do tell.”

“No. No thanks. Too personal!”

A shame but she did seem quite happy to discuss sex so I decided to open up a bit more. See where that led. I’d glossed over a lot in my resume so decided to fill in a few details starting with what I’d done the previous day. (See here https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/car-park-exhibition-46311588a7d1)

Her eyes widened seemingly with each word. When I finished she just stared at me.

“My god.”

“Do you think I’m terrible? A slut?”

“No, no. God but there was me thinking you were shy and retiring.”

“Ha, not a totally accurate impression.”

“Totally? Completely. Unless you're spoofing me.” It was a statement to herself, not a question to me but I responded. “Want proof then? I’ll give the guy at the bar a flash.”

Her eyes widened again.

“Really?

“Yes, really. Be a giggle.”

“Go on then, Miss Exhibitionist 2022.” I could see she had doubts but at the same time there was a hint of excitement in her eyes.

What to do? I looked around the bar. Monday wasn’t their busiest time. A couple in a corner and the man propping up the bar were the only other customers. But what to do? I hadn’t dressed to flash. My bra was okay. White cotton but lacy. The knickers were white cotton again. Real Bridget Jones style. No, I’m not showing those in public he’d have to make do with my bra. And tits.

“Okay.” I put my drink down, crossed my arms grabbed the bottom of my jumper, and pulled it off over my head.

“Oh shit!” From Elizabeth. My movement caught the eye of our hunk of manhood at the bar. He did a double take when his brain accepted what his eyes were seeing. His pint had stopped half way to his mouth and stayed there. I leant forward and put my arms up my back. An intake of breath next to me and a “Oh, no! No! I believe you. No more!”

I looked at her, “Really? I’m happy to…” I didn’t finish the sentence just unclipped my bra clasp, shrugged my shoulders and let it fall in my lap. “Oh fuck,” from next to me. A panicked glance from my friend around the room. An attentive stare from the bar. Not only from the overweight patron but from the barman too. I wondered what his reaction might be. Best not push it I decided so slipped my jumper back over my head, sans bra.

I looked at Elizabeth but didn’t say anything, just raised my eyebrows asking the question.

“I asked for that didn’t I?” Elizabeth said. “Shouldn’t have doubted you. God almighty. Wow. How does that make you feel?”

“Alive. Horny. All woman. Powerful.”

“Yes, I can believe all that. It’s certainly horny.”

“Fancy a go?”

“Noooo! No way. Doing odd things in our bedroom is one thing. That? Different universe.” I liked the sound of ‘odd things’!

“Didn’t it make you feel a little bit sexy?”

Silence. Then, “No. I’m ashamed to say it made me feel quite a bit sexy.”

“Why ashamed?”

Another silence. “Good question. I can’t answer. Pre-programmed reaction to something we’ve been taught is naughty?”

“Taught by whom?”

“Society? By the laws of the land?”

“Bugger society!”

“Yes, I can see that. But what about the law of the land?”

“Huh. I hardly think taking my bra off constitutes a public nuisance. Who’s going to complain? Not man mountain at the bar, he’s got a memory for his wanks for a few nights.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I admire your attitude. Aren’t you worried it will get back to your employers?”

“That’s about the only concern. I try to make sure I can see everyone who has a view so I know there’s no one I know.”

“Wow. I still can’t believe you’ve just done that. Wow.”

“Seeing me do it made you feel sexy. Imagine the feeling if you did it.”

“God, no. I can’t. No. God. Can I tell Chris? Christ. Unbelievable.”

Poor Elizabeth. I think it had actually given her a real buzz. I wanted to ask if she had leaked but thought that perhaps a bit too personal.

“Of course you can tell Chris. He’s welcome to come and watch next time we do it.” I’d purposely phrased it that way to see her reaction.

“ Next time we do it?”

“Go on, you know you’re tempted.”

“ I am not!” It was an emphatic rebuttal but I didn’t believe it.

“Okay, but do tell Chris, see what his reaction is.”

We fell into silence. Elizabeth was replaying it in her mind and I felt it best to not interrupt. When she spoke again she changed the subject to hockey. We had another drink and chatted about this and that for a while but I could see my exhibition was still in her mind. Eventually she came back to it.

“You say you don’t like men, but you do that for them. Why?

“For them or to them? Look at him at the bar. He can’t believe what he saw It’s like a worm getting into his mind. It gives me a feeling of power and the men don’t seem to mind.”

“I’m sure they don’t. Aren’t you concerned about them approaching you? Wanting more?”

“Doesn’t seem to happen, we’ve only had one man approach us and he was incredibly polite.

“You said we?”

“Yes, I often do it with a friend of mine Mary, you should come with us one evening. She’s lovely, I’m sure you’d get on.”

I continued gently urging her but couldn’t get a definite commitment so left it. Time was getting on so we called it a night, a platonic kiss on the cheek and a promise to do it again “minus the stripping!”

We’ll see!