A Lesson Learned

It is one of the unalterable facts of life that women are mysterious. There is no point in trying to rationalise, trying to account for or predict every facet of their behaviour because whatever you think you know is liable to flip over on you revealing a truth you never guessed at. Let me put it another way: You know in those naff horror films where someone looks at their reflection in a mirror? Then they put their hand out to touch the mirror and it turns out to be a pool of water? Quite often there's something unexpected behind it. Well, now you're getting it.

Years ago now when I was a student in my fourth and final year at one of the better-known Scottish universities I was once taught a savage lesson in humility. At the top of my game (or so I thought) in both my academic and physical prowess I believed I was cock of the walk. Imagine my pleasure, then when on one particularly lengthy booze and narcotic soaked night flitting between various house parties in the city I spent several hours in rapt conversation with a beautiful and alluring girl.

Jenny was a second year architecture student from the south of England. From a straight A background she was in possession of improbable wit, intelligence and good looks. When I blinked back into consciousness late the following afternoon with her number scrawled on the paper insert of a cigarette packet I wondered whether the person I had experienced the previous night had perhaps simply been a figment of the chemicals which had made their way through my body.

Wretchedly dialling her number later in the following week almost convinced of failure I could hardly believe my luck to be greeted by the same personable girl who I had met at the party. We talked on various subjects for a good hour before agreeing on a pub-date that Saturday. I could hardly believe my luck.

Come Saturday evening I found myself sitting in my favourite local, nursing a pint and talking with to two of my acquaintances that had wandered in. Drinks with Steve and Jeff were hardly what I had in mind but half an hour had already passed since Jenny and I were supposed to meet and here I was killing time with two hairy-arsed metal heads.

Another full half hour passed and I had abandoned all hope when suddenly, as if by magic, there was Jenny. She appeared at our booth in the now packed and smoky bar wearing a pair of slender white jeans and an elegant, matching white shirt. She looked amazing. The three of us stared slack jawed at her before my brain kicked back into gear and blurted out a hurried series of introductions.

"Right, I'll get the drinks then." Beamed Jenny and turned, casually flicking her hair and cruised off towards the bar leaving us in a heavenly scent cloud of perfume and expensive shampoo.

"Well, well S! I guess you'll be looking to hang onto this one then?" Smirked my friend Jeff. Steve, my other friend just grinned like a schoolboy.

"Well, its early days." I cautioned. Of course I was pleased that she had shown. But a nagging feeling inside me was telling me that the stress I had felt believing I was being stood up was a portent of things to come.

Over the coming weeks I saw a Jenny with some regularity. We spent the night together a couple of times every other weekend, although midweek meetings were rare. The University campus was sprawling and vast, making chance meetings extremely unlikely. Even when they did occur one or both of us were usually on route to someone or something that wouldn't wait. We shared some pleasant but intermittently awkward dinner dates, sports and shopping as well as a sex life that while satisfying was a little restrained, mannered even. I was haunted by the strange sensation that she was waiting for me to catch up. Perhaps waiting for me to press some buttons that, to my gradual deflation, I couldn't find. In conversation Jenny was often quiet, considered and reflective. Although her intelligence and manners were beyond reproach the fun, humorous girl who I met that first night only appeared occasionally.

Nonetheless the relationship stumbled on at varying degrees of intensity for almost six months in a fashion that if not blind, was certainly partially sighted. Somehow Jenny still seemed like a stranger to me, a fact that I tried, perhaps a little too hard to remedy. After we spent weekends together, come Monday morning she would rise promptly, kiss me goodbye and disappear out into the bustling streets. I gradually grew to hate lying there with the sun shining through the thin curtains, waiting for the alarm clock to go off, wondering how I could get closer to someone I was desperate to know. Any attempts to secure a definite next meeting with Jenny were often met with vague or evasive answers. Of course I was still madly attracted to her. After all she was not far off the dictionary definition of sexiness for me, her cascade of strawberry blonde hair framing a beautiful heart-shaped face with clear, alabaster skin. Her toned athletic body was both hard enough to look good but soft enough to retain its femininity. She had a beautiful pert, round arse conditioned, no doubt, by her above average abilities on the tennis court and a childhood in which horse riding purportedly featured prominently. She also had a fondness for push up bras, a belly ring and a tiny black heart tattooed on the inside of her thigh. Yep, I think its fair to say that she looked just about good enough to eat. I desperately wanted to love her as much as the way I loved the idea of her. Sadly, it simply wasn't the case. And so in the face of our decidedly lukewarm chemistry and with heavy heart I decided to end things with her.

That Wednesday I miraculously managed to pin her down to meeting me for lunch at the bar where I worked part-time in town. Bizarrely she was far more affectionate and animated than I had seen her for some weeks. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she suggested we fly down to her Father's house on the Devonshire coast for a romantic weekend. The thought of having her virtually all to myself for a couple of days amongst the beauty of the south coast was just the tonic I needed to make me shelve my plans for dumping her. Sitting there gazing at this woman with her beautifully curved legs primly crossed, an inch of cleavage peeking out from her white lycra sports top and her mesmerizing, mysterious smile I thought to myself: 'How would you ever be able to explain to your mates that you dumped her? How are you going to feel when they all start queuing up to try their luck?'

And so I decided to soldier on. After all things weren't that stale were they? Besides didn't I feel great cruising my local haunts with such a fine looking girl on my arm? Pride comes before a fall. They say that don't they? Sadly I've always found crash helmets rather restrictive.

Is it just me or is there something sexy about airports? Don't judge me. Okay, they're dirty, heavily air-conditioned, rammed with people often in various states of tiredness and/or frustration. But there's something else there too. People heading off to places, smartly dressed to make a good impression at a meeting somewhere, showing a bit of leg to get in the right mood for partying or lying on a beach somewhere else, expectation and excitement in equal measure. There is also certain anonymity, the thought of a chance encounter, a random proposition? I don't know. Despite my feelings I have never had a sexual encounter at an airport. Today didn't look like it was going to change that.

"Is everything okay Jen? You seem a million miles away."

"Yeah, sure. I'm fine; it's just been a while since I've been home. I'm just thinking about things. Dad, Mum, you know?" She smiled at me. I was suddenly struck anew I knew her.

"Are you feeling down that your Mum isn't going to be around?" I took a stab, knowing that Jenny's Mother and Father had ways shortly before she had started at Uni. The split was to be permanent and her Mother was now living and working in Vancouver.

"Maybe. But S, I probably should have told you. My Dad isn't going to be around either. He's in London with his work. He'll be back on Sunday morning but I doubt we'll see much of him before we leave again. Sorry, I haven't really given you many details have I?" I made empathic noises and what I hoped was an understanding face. The horny little devil inside me turned a cartwheel. No Daddy. Excellent! Okay, so what if I never managed to truly reach this woman? Wouldn't a weekend alone with her be an excellent consolation prize?

"Its fine, honestly. Hell, what do I need details for?" I tried a winning smile. She softened a little and tried to put her head on my shoulder. It wasn't very comfortable.

"I'm not very good at all the 'having a boyfriend' stuff. I'm sorry." She said. I would soon discover there was a cryptic truth in much of what she said.

**

Every time I'm in the South of England I forget how much I love the place. Despite the relative cold it was a clear crisp day with a promise of spring in the air. The lengthy hire car trip down from the airport was made bearable by the numerous villages interspersed by low, rolling hills, forest and eventually secluded coves and beaches as we made our way down onto the south coast. After a good hour we passed into a sleepy village populated by expansive, sprawling properties set back from the road. From what I could see of them they belonged to either the rich or the very rich. At the end of a winding hill flanking a beautiful, sheltered rocky beach we turned up a private driveway through a pair of modern blackened iron gates. Over a gentle hillock I came face to face with Jenny's Father's house.

"This is Dad's pride and joy. He designed it, interfered constantly with the building of it and it's been a labour of love for the past seven years. Its only been considered fully completed in the last two." I looked across at her. She had a distant look on her face "Come on, lets get settled in. I want to make the most of having you to myself." She told me. I obliged, clambering out of the car, stretching and taking a good look at the pile of bricks in front of me.

What I saw was indeed impressive. It was an architect's wet dream and a builder's worst nightmare. Set about a quarter mile back from the road was a large, modern two-storey house ringed with an expansive area of dark, wooden decking around the front and balcony running around the upper storey. Most intriguingly of all the main body of the house appeared to have been built into the rise of the hill behind it. I wondered how far back it went. To the right of the property there was garaging for several cars and to the left a large glass conservatory area that was almost half the length of the house itself and contained a pool.

"Ostentatious isn't it?" Jenny nudged me in the ribs from behind.

"On the contrary, I think I like it." I said.

"Yeah, blokes always do." She replied marching off towards the steps leading to the front door.

"So you invite a lot of men back here when you're folks are away do you?" I called after her, unsure of whether I was joking or not.

"Come on, I'll show you round." She parried.

**

The next day morning I woke in the luxurious double bed of Jenny's bedroom with her lying next to me. The previous night had been easily the best we'd spent together. She'd shown me round the frankly amazing rooms and features of the house, cooked me dinner, allowed me to beat her at pool in their games room and best of all allowed me to get her drunk and spend the hours of midnight to three in the morning fucking her round her Father's luxurious residence.

Pushing her onto all fours on the soft baize next to the pool, wrenching her knickers down and driving my cock hard into that gorgeously formed, fragrant little fanny was just about as cathartic an experience as I can think of. Her signals during the evening had been unmistakable and for once I didn't feel like I was playing catch-up. She had virtually torn the front of my jeans down at the pool table and ordered me to yank her hair while she took what seemed like an obscene portion of my cock into her mouth. I took her roughly on the floor, in the hallway, by the pool and the stairs before we finally made it back to her bedroom. Hustling her into the bathroom and bidding her kneel down on the toilet, I slid my length into her from behind, worked her over, kneading her cute little buttocks apart, admiring the sight of my dick sliding into the sweet little fuck hole.

The final bout came on her bed. She lay down in the soft, dim light and spread her legs wide, then brought her ankles up level with her head. Her fanny gaped and glistened wet from the exertion and she imparted a stream of verbal filth to me the like of which I had never heard before and rarely since. I climbed on top and sunk into her. Frustration poured out of me followed, in short order, by every drop of cum I had which she ordered me to shoot all over her face. How can you refuse a request like that? For the first time in our sex-life I felt like things were working, as they should.

I lay there in bed reflecting happily on the previous night as this beautiful girl slept peacefully next to me. I felt like we had turned a corner. I felt perhaps this relationship could work after all? If I had known what lay ahead I would have got up and called a taxi at that moment.

Saturday was a good day. Once again I felt like things were going right with Jenny. We had a relaxing breakfast together. She looked content and for once I felt like the previous night had done as much for her as it had for me. I caught her just looking at me; she appeared disarmed, almost vulnerable. It is no lie to say that it felt like a gift from the gods.

We took a long walk up a winding road that connected a series of beaches along the immediate coastline. We held on to each other and Jenny told me about growing up in London, about her parents, about the brother I never knew she had and about her plans for when she returned to her studies in Aberdeen.

When we returned to the house that afternoon she suggested we borrow one of her Father's cars and drive into town for groceries. She led me through into the garage and with a wry smile pulled the dustsheet of a beautifully maintained Nissan Skyline GTR. My heart did yet another back flip as she tossed the keys to me.

Back at the house while we were putting the shopping away Jenny asked me if I would be interested in heading down to the local pub for the evening.

"Sounds fine to me. You know how I feel about these English country pubs? They just don't make them like this up North." I told her.

"Great. The Wheat Sheaf is just a five-minute walk from here. You'll like it."

"I've been pretty selfish, hogging you like this, haven't I? I guess you'd like to see some of your friends?" I conceded.

"Its not that. I really don't know to many people around the village. Between Uni, Sixth Form College, gap year, I've hardly lived here." She said.

"Well, we should go out anyway. If nothing else so I can give you another pool lesson." I said. She smiled seductively back at me and shifted her hips as a lock of hair fell across her forehead. My knees went weak.

"You know I let you win." She said. I suspected there might be a little truth in this.

The Wheat Sheaf to my pleasure was a standard issue south country pub complete with decrepit brickwork and an oak beamed ceiling. I soon discovered it was in possession of the best jukebox, the best pool table and the best beer in the three-village area surrounding it. As such by the time we had a little supper and got a few beers in the place was getting pretty lively with a combination of locals, all of who seemed to know each other and a good handful of visitors, like myself.

Any time we went out together it was usually a fairly short step from the two of us having a drink and a laugh to Jenny as the centre of attention for every male in a half-mile radius. I had come to terms with this and made my peace with it. She appeared to have a curious power over men in that no one seemed to aggressively come on to her. She kept men at arms length, playing with then, scrutinising them, dictating the length and nature of every exchange, all the time with that curious little smile flashing across her lips. Apparently it was an easy process for her to render us a bunch of doe eyed, dribbling simpletons, staring adoringly at her. In an environment like this where she was a certified local girl, the effect was even more strong than usual.

Of course Jenny was a girl of conspicuously good breeding, at home in any kind of company and this night was no exception. She flitted from group to group catching up with old acquaintances, sharing her news, listening intently as others gave there's but as always she introduced me to those she was talking to and included me in everything that was going on. But sometimes you just can't shake the feeling that if you weren't there would anyone really notice? After the previous night and the day we had just spent together it was hard to getting progressively harder to take. While I kept up the smile on the outside, inside my ego was threatening to start throwing his toys out of the pram.

By chucking out time the combination of the previous nights exertion, a strange environment and 6 jars of beer had rendered me dog-tired. Jenny hooked her arm around my waist, leaned into me and we staggered our way back up to the house and flopped into the bed. I must have been asleep before my head touched the pillow.

I don't know what exactly woke me up later that night, but I remember every detail like it was yesterday. One second I was asleep, the next wide-awake and staring towards the French windows leading out onto the balcony of Jenny's little suite of rooms. It was a beautiful night. The moon was full and clear, shining in through the glass, bathing the room in a pale eerie glow. As soon as I awoke I knew I was alone. Rolling over I found Jenny's side of the bed empty and cold. I glanced at my watch. It showed almost quarter past two in the morning. At first I thought Jenny might be in the bathroom. I rolled back over and buried my head in the pillow, trying to relax, but five minutes came and went then ten, then fifteen. I had a strange, disquieting feeling. Something wasn't right. I rolled onto my feet. I felt a little fuzzy and hung over and so quietly I made my way to the bathroom and took a long drink of water and a pee. I listened intently. The house seemed silent. I walked softly to the door and made my way out into the corridor and down toward the main body of the house.

At the end of the hallway a set of doors that opened soundlessly beneath my hand led to a small flight of stairs which took me down into an open plan living area strewn with brown leather furniture, opulent cushions and throws. I made my way soundlessly through the deep pile of the hand woven, woollen carpets.

There was a glass screen that led onto the minstrel's gallery overlooking the beautiful conservatory that formed the jewel in the crown of the house. Below the gallery was the pool, Jacuzzi, a small gym, a seating area with more soft furnishings and a little bar used for entertaining. It was the most stunning part of the house. I placed a hand on the heavy, stylish handle of the sliding door. It moved a couple of inches. I listened. Drifting up from pool level beneath me, I was sure I could here voices above the gently lapping water and the distant hum of the heating machinery below floor level. Without warning my heart started to race. I could feel the blood thumping in my temples. It rapidly became so intense that it seemed to me as if the noise might actually be audible outside my head. I tried to calm myself. Perhaps I was mistaken? I pulled the door open a few inches more, the heated, chlorine-tinged air of the conservatory hitting me in a pleasant wave. There, down below in the seductive, mood-lit glow of the poolside, I was sure of it, there were voices.