Once a Slut Always a Slut

I stammered, “Sorry didn’t mean to stare. Sorry!” The thought was lovely though.

I did manage to rescue from the bin some her magazines which had features on how to do make-up and hair – these became my fantasy bibles; with the information gleaned I would practice in my mind what I would do if I had some make-up.

So when one morning at about 9:30, during the summer holidays, the door bell chimed I was somewhat surprised to see Paul on my doorstep.

“Hi Charlie – fancy coming over to mine to listen to some music or something?” Paul was obviously lacking company and I was ‘in favour’.

“Yeh! Why not?” Well I had nothing else to do and maybe one day I would be fully accepted into the inner circle if I kept in with him.

Paul lived about half a mile away in an oldish red brick house, in a back lane with a large garden surrounded by hedges and trees. It took about 10 mins or so to walk over and he unlocked the back door and let us in.

“Are you here on your own?” I asked with some surprise since I was hardly ever left in our house on my own.

“Yup! My Mum and Dad are away on holiday and my sister has just started work in Leeds and won’t be back until after 6 this evening.” I brought to mind his sister – quite a gal by all accounts, red-headed, sexy and wild by anyone’s standards. On the occasions I had seen her out and about she caused a stir in a certain part of my anatomy; not just because she was very attractive but the heels and clothes she wore were exactly what I wanted to wear.

“Come on in I’ll get us a beer – although I bet you like wine don’t you?” This was said in a jokey manner so I responded truthfully.

“Actually I do – I don’t get the beer thing!” Truth to tell I didn’t like the taste and it gave me a really bad head in the mornings.

“Bloody Wimp! I’ll get you a glaase of wine instead.” He was laughing and had said glass in the way that posh, affected people often pronounce it and, again, was said in a way that I did not feel that I was being got at in any way.