Week 13 - Naked Lady

The party had been planned by Pete and another mate called Jason which explained the high percentage of pretty girls. A number of them I don’t think I had ever seen before. Pete seemed to know them all. My parents were there sitting discretely in the corner, Dave ‘the bluenose', from work was spinning round in his wheelchair, Karen was dancing with a man who looked old enough to start lining up at the Post Office. Then to my delight I caught sight of a third person dancing in the group. It was Nan. I then realised that it was in fact Nan the man in his sixties was with. It was great to see my Nan looking so happy even if I don’t think her ankle was designed for that type of angle. With ‘Come On Eileen’ blasting out everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. If Becky had been by my side it would have been great. She used to do a brilliant striptease dance to this song. Only in private of course! I loved to see her body and feel the top of her naked thighs gyrate against me.
“Here is somebody who has come a long way to see you”, Pete said hiding a girl behind his back. Could it be Becky? Would my day be complete? Slowly the small blonde girl came into view and I recognised her instantly. It was my own Bakewell Tart, Heather Shaw.
Heather looked terrific dressed in a little black dress that didn’t even cover her knees. She had lost the slight chubbiness she had had and looked in exceptionally good nick. Pete quickly retreated to leave the two of us alone. Well, alone apart from the fact that I could feel the eyes of my whole family on us. Things were slightly awkward, but Heather soon took charge saying “Bonjour”, holding my hands and giving me a small kiss on my left cheek. I leant down slightly remembering how the height difference had sometimes made kissing difficult.
For the next half an hour I ignored all my other guests and chatted to Heather. We talked about so many things that had gone on in the past and she smelt lovely. The perfume, which I thought was probably French, was really pleasant. We talked mostly about uni days. More like old pals than ex’s. There was no mention of Becky or Jean Pierre. For the first time in months I was having a conversation with a woman and it felt so relaxed. Heather’s smile always put me at ease.
The party went well, I mingled, talked to Heather, cut the cake, talked to Heather, did the Birdie song and talked to Heather. Nan pulled me to one side and asked me in her normal to-the-point way “Has she dumped the Frenchie?”. I had no idea, but she seemed happy so I assumed they were still together. I must admit she had got me through a very difficult party. Yes, I was grateful to Pete for organising it and especially for getting Heather there but I didn’t really feel in the mood to celebrate my move to my fourth decade, by the time it was half past ten I had actually had enough of socialising. I decided to tell Pete, thank you, but I am going to call it a night. The only problem with this was that Pete was currently playing tonsil hockey with a girl I had never seen before. I tapped him on the back and indicated I was going. I think he heard me but his mouth was still being sucked like a vacuum by this unknown redhead.
Outside I looked for clues to where I could get a taxi from. It was now starting to rain and I wasn’t really dressed for being outside too long.

“Tryng to sneak off, birthday boy”, a familiar voice appeared from a few metres back. It was Heather who was standing under a Pink Panther umbrella, which was very very pink. She came closer and tried to lift the umbrella over my head but her arms were too small. I ducked down and actually managed to avoid being poked in the eye by the umbrella. Heather didn’t say anything and we just stood there for a few minutes exchanging a few uneasy smiles. Eventually Heather enquired what I was waiting for. I said I was after a taxi but was unsure which way to go to find one. After a few more minutes Heather offered to drive me home in her car as she hadn’t been drinking and didn’t know anybody else at the party. We had got on quite well so I decided to accept the invitation even though I remember her driving was always erratic. She led me to the pub carpark at the back and then I knew straight away which car I would be taken home in. There it was a bright pink Beetle parked over two parking spaces. It certainly wasn’t a car for somebody who didn’t want to be noticed. The new Heather certainly was very confident and seemingly not short of a few quid as the car seemed quite new. Confusion then happened as Heather tried to let me in the right-hand side. I protested that I wasn’t going to drive and I would be way over the limit. Then Heather pointed out that it was a left-hand drive car as she had got it in France.
The journey back to my house reminded me totally why I always like to drive when we were together. I must remember to tell her that you are supposed to stop at islands if there is traffic coming from the right and should not really just put your foot down and go. Being in the right-hand side with no steering wheel was very strange and my feet were frequently hitting an imaginary brake. Heather was now in ultra talk mode and the unnerving part was that she frequently turned her whole head to the right to look at me when she was talking. I had also forgot her strange habit of driving with one bare foot. She had a high heal shoe on her left foot and her right foot was shoeless. This is how she had always liked it.

“So where is Becky then?”, Heather suddenly shocked me by mentioning my missing bride.

I told her that I hadn’t heard from her and Heather looked really confused.

”You haven’t heard from your wife since when…..?”, Heather was just staring at me and I had to nudge her to get her eyes back on the road. It suddenly occurred to me that Pete had invited her to my party and totally failed to mention the minor detail that I had been jilted.

“How can she miss your birthday? Is she ill?, the Heather interrogation was now well under way. Luckily we soon arrived at my flat. I had finally started to call it my flat. So I decided to invite Heather in and explain everything to her.

“Will Becky mind?”, Heather was either being deliberately thick or was totally bewildered.

Inside Heather commented straight away on how minimalistic everything was. She then clicked that I lived alone and that Becky had left me. She thought it must have been a record breakingly short marriage, but I think suggesting it was probably my morning breath that scared Becky away was unfair. I was forced to explain exactly what had happened on my wedding day. Heather just sat silent with the only comment she made being to enquire if I had any decaf coffee. It was obvious that the Jon Stadler story had not crossed the Channel and was all new news to Heather. She didn’t give me the pity vote that I normally get from people when I tell this story. She was more surprised and maybe a bit put out that I hadn’t told her before.

“But, why did she decide she couldn’t marry you?”, still it didn’t make sense to the lady from France.

The next half an hour saw Heather asking me lots of personal question to try and find out why Becky left but still she felt there was something that I wasn’t telling her. Some information that I was holding back. I had told her everything though including the honeymoon plans and the disagreement we had had in June over if ‘O Jesus I have promised’ should be the first or second hymn. Heather wasn’t convinced though she even asked if Becky had financial problems or had ever expressed any feelings towards women. I showed my horror at this but it was dismissed by Heather who said that most women had had a lesbian fantasy at some point in their life mainly because they knew how to make their bodies tingle a lot better than men did. This was a slight distraction and I was left thinking about what Heather had been doing in France and were any French ladies involved. The conversation had been totally about me for the last hour and I felt it was about time I mentioned Jean Pierre to find out if he was still keeping Heather’s bed warm. Heather had changed this was certainly not the slightly shy lady I had known at uni who didn’t even like to be called a ‘Bakewell Tart’.
We discussed the infamous Jean Pierre and I was reasonably pleased to find that he was now shacked up with a lawyer named Louisa. Heather seemed ok with this and said that in the end she encouraged him to go. Apparently, the sex was sensational but they were never friends like we were and she wanted more. So we were both suddenly single maybe the future wasn’t as bleak as I thought. Very soon Heather was back interrogating me on why Becky had decided to leave. I couldn’t tell if Heather was pleased to hear that I was still single or not. Okay, I wasn’t looking my best and I had let myself go a bit lately, but maybe there was a chance of romance. Although I had to admit that Heather’s beauty value had changed from a middle of the table League One team to a Premier League club chasing a European place. She looked very pretty and if I couldn’t have Becky on my birthday then Heather was a good substitute.
It was now nearly one in the morning and Heather was checking out the different rooms in the flat making the occasional comment about my lack of cleaning. In the kitchen she picked up a bottle of champagne which had been ready for our return from honeymoon.

“Let’s celebrate your birthday in style then. Where are you champagne glasses?”, Heather asked as she searched the kitchen cupboard. Two minutes later there was the pop of the cork and Heather poured the bubbling champagne into a Villa 1977 League Cup winners mug and a ‘Watch Out there’s a Humphrey about’ Unigate Dairies mug. Heather smiled and handed me the Villa mug.

“Cheers to absent friends. Happy Birthday Jon”, she then kissed me on my right cheek and sat up against me on the floor in the lounge. After a few sips of the warm champagne I thought it best to enquire where Heater was staying. Surely she wasn’t travelling back to gay Pari at this time of night. She was staying at her mum’s in Bakewell, but didn’t want to drive back tonight as it was too late and she was planning on drinking a few glasses of champagne. In other words, she was asking if she could stay here tonight. There was only the one double bed so I offered to sleep on the couch even though it was only a two seater one and with my long legs would be absolutely impossible to sleep on.

“Don’t be silly. We know each other so well surely we can share a bed without any embarrassment”, Heather put forward an idea that surprised me. I suppose we could, but what was she suggesting? Was this a share a bed in the sleeping sense or in the ‘Mills and Boon’ sense. I tried to recall how it used to be like at university and importantly what I used to wear in the bedroom then. Normally at the moment it was just the boxers that I had been wearing that day but I had got a couple of pairs of pyjamas. The one pair were the Aston Villa ones that perhaps weren’t appropriate and the other pair were the slightly naughty ones that Becky had bought me last Christmas that perhaps also were not quite right. I guess it would have to be boxers but maybe not the ones I was wearing now. I would have to sneak a clean pair on when I got the chance.
Heather almost single handedly finished off the bottle of champagne and was starting to get very giggly. I began to think that maybe this wasn’t going to be such a good idea. How was I going to play this? Yes, I wouldn’t mind a bit of birthday nookie and it wasn’t like anybody I hadn’t slept with before. Problem was I kept recalling what she had said about good old Monsieur JP before “the sex was sensational”. How could I compare? Obviously my previous effort hadn’t reached those heights and I don’t think my technique has really improved much over the last nine years. Anyway, am I getting too far a head of myself here? Perhaps hanky-panky isn’t on the agenda for Heather tonight. She looks brilliant though, slightly tanned in her little black figure hugging dress and big white pearls around her neck. With the bottle empty Heather suggested, rather wickedly that it was time for bed. I tried not to read too much into the term ‘Big Boy’ as Heather took my hand and led me to my bedroom.
Sitting on the bed I watched in wonder as Heather unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. I actually felt slightly uncomfortable that Heather was doing this all in full view of me. Was I supposed to look? I decided that it was probably more polite to avert my gaze and look the other way. So I watched the reflection of Heather undressing in the mirror.

“I can see you peeking. Do you like what you see?”, Heather taunted me and then blow me a kiss. It was all so confusing. I expect that she was happy to show off her new figure and what a figure it was. Her black lacy bra and matching briefs certainly grabbed my attention and my manhood was staring to show. I decided to retreat to the bathroom to try to calm down and change my boxers. Everything was going too fast for me and I didn’t know what I really wanted to happen. I had got used to the idea that I was never going to sleep with any other girl apart from Becky, but then Becky had left me. Now I had the chance of revisiting a former sexual partner.
Returning from the bathroom I nearly trod on Heather’s discarded black bra. It was a designer one with what looked like a French name. As I reached the bed I was shocked on two counts. Firstly, Heather was on the right side of the bed. This was wrong because it was my side and Becky always slept on the left. Secondly on the floor were a pair of black matching knickers. Heather was in the bed and unless she had kept any items of nightwear in her pink handbag then she was totally naked. Unfortunately she was also snoring and fast asleep. I slipped into the bed and could smell the French perfume and even when I turned off the light I could see the shine of Heather’s bare back. She looked sensational. It was a shame she was lying with her back facing me but I still allowed myself a smile and thought about how glad I was Pete had invited Heather.
Trying to sleep was difficult as Heather although looking angelic was making some very unfeminine noises. Her snores were filling the room and I was wide a wake. It was like the night before my supposed wedding day all over again. My mind was full of images of Becky and of old girlfriends, but the difference now was that this old girlfriend was lying NAKED only six inches from me. I moved closer desperately wanting to touch her warm soft body. Knowing she was in a deep sleep I knew that I could probably get away with Heather thinking I am a sleep if she suddenly wakes up and finds my arm around her. Perhaps she would like a cuddle anyway. I mean let's remember that it was Heather herself who got into my bed without her sexy undies. It was Heather herself who suggested she stayed the night. Yes, I was the innocent party here. I moved myself until my chest was touching her back and I could feel every movement she made as she breathed heavily. We were now so close that Heather’s blonde hair at the back was resting on my face. She smelt brilliant even allowing for the slight cigarette smell in her hair from the time spent in the pub. Her skin was just so soft and smooth and I couldn’t stop myself from stroking her all the way round from her shoulders with the back of my hand. It then continued down Heather’s back and then felt the joy of touching the cheek of her silky bottom. For the next five minutes I slowly stroked her back and bum checking that she wasn’t waking, but aware that the snoring was starting to become less frequent. The snores were also sounding more like a purr as Heather sounded like a really content pussy cat. My strokes seemed to be well received. Then my bed companion this birthday night wearing her birthday suit turned herself over one hundred and eighty degrees to face me. She seemed to still be asleep but I could make out a smile on her face. My eyes were quite accustomed to the light now and I lay there watching her closely. Her nose was quite small and definitely pointed slightly up. The duvet, still minus it’s duvet cover, was just covering Heather’s chest. Although part of me knew it was wrong and being disloyal to my fiancée I desperately wanted to see Heather’s hidden assets. I slowly pulled down the duvet that was covering Heather. The smile on her face widen and she gripped the duvet edge tightly to prevent it moving. Perhaps I had missed my chance. Then to my surprise Heather slowly lowered the duvet down to her waist. She looked super lying there with her breasts facing me and her nipples looking firm. I so wanted to touch them but would this be taking things too far? The moment went because Heather then rolled over the other way and pulled the duvet tightly around her. Leaving me now exposed and unable to retrieve the covers.

Next Week - The Day After