Distance Learning

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I became more proficient at letter writing.  I concentrated on the detail that was relevant and wrote with more confidence.  I was earnest, honest and descriptive.  I never tried to be someone I wasn’t and at least I could spell.  I reckoned this counted for something, even if my hand-writing was still that of a retarded spider.  To be honest this was probably my downfall and explained why I never had any replies.  A man shouldn’t be judged on his hand-writing alone, but there must have been some doubt about whether this man wasn’t under-age and still in the bottom grade of hand-writing school.  The enclosed photo, therefore, assumed massive importance.  This was something I never changed.  I was confident that looking very pleased to see someone was persuasive, especially if the evidence was totally irrefutable.

If getting replies was a game of numbers then surely something special was overdue.  Little did I know what lay ahead……Everything comes to he who waits.  Waiting six months was a trifle when compared to the adventure that lay ahead.  My sexual education was about to be transformed.  I gravitated from a B- to an A+ in just one inspirational evening class.  Distance learning in Northampton (of all places)……

The letter, when it arrived, was simple enough.  The photo that accompanied it was anything but.  An indisputably gorgeous lady was pleased to hear from me and was interested in meeting.  But was I prepared to travel to Northampton to meet her and was I trustworthy enough to obey her instructions?  The photo showed a very classy, slim and elegant lady in some very appealing lingerie who was looking straight at the camera with an expression on her face that said ‘I need it’…….No, in fact, it said ‘I need it now’.  I kept it in my wallet for the weeks before we meet, and for many months afterwards.  Just to remind me that she wasn’t teasing.  Every time I looked at it I knew she wasn’t.  A fact confirmed by my trousers which never failed to produce the evidence.

I replied immediately assuring her that I was ready, willing and able and sat on my doormat impatiently waiting for a reply.  When I saw her handwriting on the envelope that arrived soon after I nearly had a heart palpitation.  I opened it with trembling hands and had to read it three times to fully comprehend; it would be easy for this to be the work of a devious fantasist.  It transpired that my presence was required at a pub in Northampton at 5pm on a Friday evening in a couple of weeks’ time.  This was straight-forward.  What was less so was the other instruction.  She would be waiting for me at the bar with her back to the room.  She would be wearing a very short skirt and I was to put my hand up her skirt and play with her without saying anything.  I was to stand behind her, catch the barman’s attention and order her a drink.  She would only turn around when her drink arrived and had been paid for.   She hoped I was brave and reliable.

TS Elliott once said ‘Only those who risk going too far can find out how far one can go’.  He was right.  I wasn’t fazed just massively excited although, also, nervous.  It wasn’t every day that you were asked to do something in public that seemed morally inappropriate.  It seemed to be a game, a test of my mettle and of my credentials.  Was I man enough to make a pass at a gorgeous, wanton lady in a public place because it plainly excited her for me to do so?  The fact that we were accomplices to fulfil what were definitely mutually salacious desires made the prospect deeply intoxicating.

It was only in the car on my journey to Northampton that I pondered what might happen if there just happened to be another brunette standing at the bar, dressed similarly, in the very same pub.  It dawned on me that she might not be too pleased at my unsolicited advance.  I guessed I’d be intuitive and I could always run…..fast.  Anyway I was in a very excited and adrenalin-fuelled state.  Nothing could stop this extraordinary and highly alluring invitation that had my libido in a vice-like grip.  I wanted my hand to be welcomed as it slipped confidently under the hem and caressed this mysterious lady through the skimpy material.  I wondered if she’d be wet……..

I waited in the car until exactly 4.59pm and entered via the back door from the large pub car park which was already half full.  Friday night, pay packets topped up, an after-work drink to celebrate the forthcoming weekend.  The pub was busy.  But there, at one of the bars, standing with her back to the room was a slim brunette with long, wavy hair cascading down her back, wearing an extremely short skirt that barely covered her stocking tops.  A hundred trembling viewings of the picture verified her profile.  I had a lump in my throat almost as large as that in my trousers.  The moment had arrived.  The moment when I realised that the opposite of bravery was not cowardice but conformity.  This was no time to conform, this was the moment to be brave, as requested.  My reputation was on the line.

My hand slid easily underneath the material.  I extended a finger which immediately found the target and slid confidently onto what seemed to be silk and immediately located the contours of her plump lips.  She seemed to ease back onto my hand as if she was presenting me with a house warming present to celebrate my new home.  I stood immediately behind her to prevent this act of impropriety being observed from behind while stroking this haven of delight.  Reassuringly, I sensed her leaning back into me as if she trusted my enquiring fingers.  I tried hard to catch the eye of an indolent barman.  I only had one hand that was operable so this took several minutes.  Comfortingly I could tell there was no hurry.  My fingers were working up a gentle and teasing rhythm.  I could tell this was being met enthusiastically because the material was soaking wet.  I knew her drink of choice, it had been part of my detailed instructions.  I managed to extract all of the change from my pocket which was clearly way too much for the amount required.  I was in no state for precision.  I told the barman to keep the change, it seemed only fair and, after all, I was very pre-occupied.  Two glasses filled with expectant alcohol were delivered.

She turned round and our eyes met for the first time.  Hers were aflame with excited desire and a devious smile was apparent on her full lips.  ‘Hello P’ she said huskily, ‘I’ve been waiting for you’.                

  

 

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