| Straight: Lusty Liaisons: Team handling (1/4) |
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‘This package requires team handling’ was the legend on the side of the cardboard box that had held the neighbours’ new washing machine. I noticed it as I was parking the car at the end of another working day. The phrase made me chuckle and reminded me of my earliest days with Jen, my wife of just over twenty years. Once inside I opened a glass of wine, flopped down into an armchair and let my mind drift back more than two decades. We first met in the Christmas of ’84 when we were both in our last year of University. The party was in full swing around me, ‘Do they know it’s Christmas’ blasting out for the I-don’t-know-how-many-eth time that evening when I first saw her. I remember thinking, ‘Just how much lace can one woman wear?’ but then I noticed just how glorious her legs were and what an exquisite arse she had and I knew she had me hooked. ‘Faint heart and all that, Graham’ I was thinking as I approached her and opened with some politically correct line, probably something about apartheid or Nelson Mandela (who, I had recently found out needed to be free but wasn’t). She just looked at me with a mixture of pity and confusion before saying, ‘What?’ Changing tack quickly, I asked her who she had come to the party with, hoping some shared acquaintance might provide an easy topic of conversation. Looking around she pointed across the room, ‘Dave Stemmons. You know him?’ ‘Know of him’, I said to myself. He was widely reckoned just about the biggest fuckwit in existence. Maybe it was the amount of drink, maybe it was the quality of her legs, but I found myself blurting out, ‘What the fuck can you see in him? Look at him – he’s only got one glove on, for fuck’s sake.’ As cool as you like, without missing a beat she replied, ‘But he’s got a lovely thick cock and he knows just what to do with it.’ Feeling there wasn’t much more that needed saying, she walked away from me. As I watched the back of her permed head moving away I thought, ‘I can honestly say I’ve never met a girl like you before.’ I knew that I had to get to know her better. I soon found out that her name was Jennifer (but her friends called her Jen), she was doing English and that she ran with a much more fashionable crowd. After the Christmas holidays I arranged to ‘accidentally’ bump into her coming out of a lecture. To my surprise she agreed to go out for a drink with me. We hit it off straightaway and I found her very easy company. We were both fairly pissed by chucking out time on that Friday evening. ‘Your place or mine?’ Jen said. I was too drunk and far too horny to worry that she already had a boyfriend and we made our way back to her place for a night of drunken passion. In the morning I wanted to test the waters – see if this was a one off or whether it might lead somewhere. ‘Won’t Dave mind…about us, I mean?’ ‘Chucked him. The wanker got all possessive. It’s alright for him to put it about but when I do the same it’s a different story altogether.’ ‘Oh.’ I said encouragingly, hoping Jen would amplify. ‘You see, Graham, I’m not really sure whether I could settle for just |
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Gunner was 'Spot On !'