CJ and Me Pt. 02 - The Pool Party

This is a story of a life's Journey. Through heart ache and pain, so many happy moments, there is some very erotic sexual passages, [I hope] but it is blended into the context of a life's journey. I've tried to make them as real as they were for me at the time, although sometimes my memory fails me. So this story is based on facts, some fiction [to protect the guilty] and many, many fantasies. The place names are real, as are the people. The names have been changed but they are as real as you and me. CJ and I started in pre-pandemic 2020 and I'm 67 years old, CJ was teenager going on 30. You will have to do the maths. But this story goes way back to the very beginning of my teenage years and continues through until today. Any sexual activity took place between CJ and I was when she was over 18 there is no underage sex.

**Song reference --- The Real Thing lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc

Paul drove us home later that night. The old Holden had a bench seat and 3 on the column, a manual, I sat almost on top of him, and changed the gears, when he used the clutch. I was quiet on the drive home, which wasn't that unusual, but Paul did sense something was up. He asked me numerous times if I was OK and what was the matter. Then being the man boy he was becoming, he wanted his way with me. We petted and I tried to look interested and participate, he fumbled and fondled, or was it fondled then fumbled. Like most other times I took the lead and got his cock out and hard, in two seconds flat, I wiggled out of my bathers, giggled, and smiled, kissed him and pretended. Then he had his wicked way with me. Condoms of course. If it wasn't on, it wasn't on, way before the AIDs campaign used the same slogan. Two minutes later he was slumped on my chest, breathing heavily. I poked him to keep him awake. The sign of things to come was a thought I had.

He smiled, kissed me, and then asked if it was good for me. I bit my tongue, smiled, and nodded. Another mistake I kept making for the next few years. He got me home in one piece and came inside to say hello to my parents. Dad was asleep in the armchair, while Mum was watching some show on the old black and white TV set. So it wasn't late, the ABC normally went off air around midnight. Mum tapped her wristwatch and glared at Paul, then smiled at me.

"Can I make you a cuppa before you head off Paul?" Asked Mum. Paul shook his head and said he had better get a move on as he had an early start in the morning. Mum couldn't help herself when she said.

"Well, you should have thought of that earlier?" I cocked my head and raised my eyebrows which is as close as I ever went to showing some sort of rebellious nature towards my parents.

Paul had a smile and said, "Sorry Mrs. Reynolds, next time we will be home on time."

'Yeah, yeah next time, if there is a next time." Mum replied. This sort of banter was commonplace now. A sign that Paul was a welcome figure in our house.

I walked him out to his car, I sometimes thought he paid that damn thing more attention and worried about how it was running, more than he did about me. Boys and their toys I thought to myself. We kissed and he wanted a little bit extra, I laughed him off and told him that Mum was probably watching through the curtains. He grabbed my boobs and I pushed him away, telling him to behave. He laughed it off as if I was his to do as he wanted with. That annoyed the hell out of me.

He said he would probably see me tomorrow, I shrugged and told him if it was too hard not to bother. He gave me a kiss, jumped in his car and drove off. I stood there until I saw the red taillights disappear around the corner and then slowly wandered inside.

Mum was making her customary late-night cuppa for her and Dad, offered to pour me one, I shook my head and went into my bedroom. Not saying a word and deep in thought. One of the blessings about being the only daughter was I had my own room. While the 3 boys shared a bedroom. I slowly changed into my PJs, throwing the bathing suit into the corner, making a mental note, I will need to wash them before next weekend and then hopped into bed.

Cold, crisp, white linen sheets, and a light woolen blanket. The coolness of the bed and room conflicted with the burning in my groin. Not from what Paul had been up to, far from it, but the thought of what had happened that night at the beach with Macca and what might happen next Sunday. I closed my eyes and let my hand wander down inside my PJs and immediately felt how wet I was, I started to touch, and my fingers rolled my ever-hardening clit between them, I moaned into the pillow and continued to massage, to pull and slip a finger, then two inside of me. It felt so good, my hand was moving in sync with my hips and my whole body was moving back and forth. OMG it felt so good,

I kept seeing those stars in the night sky, and looking up as Macca lowered herself onto my face. I wanted more of it, much more. I came with an almighty shudder as I both screamed into my pillow and grabbed hold of my core, shaking, I felt my muscles deep inside me grip my fingers, I shook with relief, moaning with delight. My eyes were closed, I fell asleep, I slept so well that night.

I was a bundle of nerves all the next week. I typical young woman waiting for a big event, caught between daydreaming about Macca and what we did and in the next second getting all excited about the upcoming weekend. It was no secret I was going to a pool part with Macca and a few of the girls, as Macca put it. Mum was happy about it, glad she said that was making new friends. Although she wasn't overly wrapped in Macca, she smoked, which Mum hated, was loud and opinionated, also which Mum hated, also played all that new music so loud you could hear her car coming halfway down the street.

Not like the woman my Mother wanted me to become, which she made very clear. But apart from those, annoying little things, she liked Macca, who was always laughing, if Mum only knew why, smiling and openly affectionate. She would hug my Mum and Dad, which Dad didn't mind one little bit, but Mum was not a huggy type of person. I can count on one hand the number of times my Mum hugging me.

Paul did come around during the week, it was the Tuesday when I told him I was going out on the following Sunday with a few of my friends, deliberately not mentioning who they were. He was OK with it, and suggested we go out on the Saturday night, maybe to dinner and then catch a movie in town. This was strange.

Going out to dinner isn't what we did, in fact we had never been out to dinner, not counting picking up a feed of fish and chips on a Friday night, where a Chico Roll was a delicacy and considered almost posh.

He said we should dress up, which was also not something else we did, unless someone died or got married and not on a normal Saturday night, just to go out to dinner. I felt uneasy but said OK, what was a girl to do? I didn't say a word to Mum, knowing how she would put 2 +2 together and come up with 5. So I didn't say a word until the Friday night. Even then I just casually mentioned that Paul and I were going to the pictures on Saturday night, which was normal for us. I neglected to say it was in town and I was going to dress up.

Something inside me told me I should be overly excited about this, and another thing inside me said 'Don't do it girl'. Talk about being confused and the conflict inside of me was making me feel ill.

I started getting ready for my Saturday night dinner and as I suspected, my brothers were all home, taking the micky out of me. Mum was making a fuss, wanting me to wear this or wear that. I was so frazzled by the time Paul turned up in his finest suit. He had had a haircut; I couldn't believe it that he had actually gone out and had a haircut to take me out to dinner. I was stunned. And I was impressed. It did feel like a special night. Now I was really worried.

He had booked ahead at a very ritzy restaurant and no matter how hard I tried not to, I felt like a fish out of water. We ate, drank some wine, which to me tasted very ordinary, give me a Bacardi and Coke any day. We held hands over the table and spoken in hushed tones.

I felt like everyone was staring at us when in fact no one was. I could sense Paul was nervous, he was fidgeting and holding my hand, slowly, softly stroking the back of it with his finger. Candlelight flickering, soft background music, which I didn't recognise. Completely foreign to me.

He kept starting to talk then looked down and stopped. I wanted to hug him and shake all at once, get him to ask what he wanted to ask. But I was always told to wait, don't rush a man when he is thinking. Lord knows why. We finished eating, Paul drank the last of his wine, I had left half of mine, the waiter came over and Paul asked for the bill, I excused myself to powder my nose.

The ladies rest room was like a palace as was the restaurant. I entered a room, it was in fact a waiting room, with seating and mirrors, large paintings of wondrous landscapes and velvet curtains. Women sat and were smoking, chatting away I looked around in amazement. Some women smiled and nodded in my direction, I smiled back then looked away. A small door at the end of the room was half hidden by a large floor to ceiling drape.

I headed in that direction as an elderly lady, dressed like a princess, taped my elbow and whispered, "That's a cupboard my dear, the door you are looking for is behind those curtains over there."

I smiled nervously and thanked her. I pushed on the door that should have had the word 'PULL' on it, closed my eyes as I heard laughter behind me. I didn't look back but moved into the lavatory area.

All white tiles, hushed tones and soft music playing, a heavy, sweet fragrance sat in the air. First impressions, posh, very very bloody posh, too good for the likes of me. My first thought was, in fact almost too nice to be use. I stood there in awe as the door opened behind me and the elderly lady who had helped me, walked in and caught me gawking, literally. My mouth was open.

She smiled as she put her hand on my hip and guided me away from the door. "If you stand there, you'll get knocked over" she intimated with a smile in her voice. "Your first visit here, is it?" she asked politely. As she went towards the wash basins to wash her hands. I looked around in total amazement.

"Standing in the doorway, with your mouth open will get you one of two things." she stated "propositioned or knocked down. The cubicles are around there." She gestured with her elbow. Did I stick out that much? I asked myself. I smiled and thanked her again and found the nearest loo and did what I had to do.

By the time I had returned to the washroom, it was empty. I tidied myself up after washing and drying my hands and re-entered the waiting room. Which was still busy with chatting women, still smoking and some laughing. It seems this was a social gathering place for us women.

I walked casually back to our table; Paul was sitting there with a smile on his face. I smiled as I approached and he stood up and began to speak, clearing his throat as if to ask for silence but in fact he was just clearing his throat. "All ok?" He enquired. I smiled back at him thinking, I have just gone to the loo, and you are asking if I'm OK. He held out his hand to me and I took it instinctively. He was acting quite strange from the boy I was used to. I saw him in a different light. He had grown up a little, matured.

As we walked out, he asked if I had enjoyed the meal. "It was a bit on the rich side but ok." I replied. He then produced two tickets to Wests Theatre to see 'Love Story' with Ryan O'Neal and Ali McGraw. Oh, wow I thought sarcastically, a real picture theatre. The theme to the movie ran through my head, nice.

We walked down King William Street to the corner of Hindley Street and turned left towards Wests Theatre. Even though it wasn't late, it was busy, people were spilling over onto the roadway from the pavement. Cars were crawling along at a snail's pace; young boys were hanging out of car windows cat calling all the pretty girls walking just as slowly as the cars. People laughing and running between the cars. It felt great to be out on a Saturday night in the city.

The crowd around the theatre blocked the footpath. Men in tuxedoes and women in ball gowns. Ladies in fur stoles and long white gloves up to their elbows. Big cars pulled up to let more people out in all their finery. Cars were honking, music from open café's filled the air, adding to the atmosphere. This was indeed a special occasion, the buzz as we got closer, gave me a thrill. My stomach was doing flip flops and I squeezed Paul's hand a little tighter, he in turn squeezed it back. It felt special and I felt extra special. I wish I had listened to mum and worn her old wedding dress; it would have fitted in nicely.

As we entered the theatre, with the glass doors opened for you by young men dressed up in a uniform that reminded me of the 1900's, none smiling and gave everyone a curt nod as they entered.

The foyer was large, domed shaped, with the largest crystal chandelier I had ever seen, hanging from the ceiling 3 flights up. It didn't have to be large to fit that description as I hadn't seen many at all to be truthful. But this was so big. The foyer was full of the well to do types, all smoking, cigarettes, cigars, pipes. Ladies with cigarette holders eight inches long, straight out of the movies, like Audrey Hepburn in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' many were very much smaller. I giggled, they looked so ridiculous.

I walked with the throng of people towards the doors where the sign said, 'de lux Royal Reserve' but Paul squeezed my hand and took me towards the staircase which swept up and around the dome, he lent down and whispered in my ear "We're not in the cheap seats Bobbi, nothing but the best for you tonight." I hugged his arm and squeezed his hand again. This was indeed something special.

As we rose up the staircase, I looked down at the people below. I have never thought of myself as someone special, but for this one night, at that one precise moment, I felt like I was a movie star, or a Princess maybe, or heaven above the Queen herself. I was brought back to earth as we reached the top and were ushered into another smaller foyer with people mingling around, talking in hushed tones. The sign above the doors stated that this was in fact the 'Mezzanine'. My heart slumped for a minute; we had gone from the 'de lux Royal Reserve' to the Mezzanine. I felt a little flat for a split second, then not.

Paul guided me to one side where there was another staircase, roped off and an Usher and Usherette standing there taking tickets, Paul handed ours to the Usher. Who immediately took the rope from the entrance and asked us to follow the usherette. As we climbed the stairs, I couldn't stop myself from looking at the backside of the young Usherette just two steps in front of me, her backside was almost eye level. I looked and I swear I could see the outline of her garter belt as her uniform was so tight and a little shiver went through me. Paul looked at me and smiled. He asked, "A little excited are you." Was my shiver that noticeable? If he only knew what really went through my mind at that point.

We arrived at a small landing and the Usherette open the door for us to the 'Dress Circle'. I was taken aback. Oh my, as I looked back to the small mezzanine foyer, remembering the enormous ground foyer with that chandelier. I wondered if there were any more stairs to climb. We were presented with a glass of wine, later I learnt it was champagne, again it didn't thrill me, and I took just small sips every now and again. There were only about a dozen people including ourselves, and for the first time no one was smoking. I looked around and noticed where the ladies' room was located and was about to excuse myself when there were chimes ringing, gradually getting louder. The Usher announced that we should take our seats and opened the doors to the theatre.

The theatre was dimly lit and there was a buzz coming from the front of the theatre, a large red curtain stretched across the entire front of the auditorium from the top of the ceiling to the stage floor. It was truly impressive. For an innocent young lady from the boon docks, this was indeed like a wild dream.

What on earth was Paul up to, he didn't need to treat me like this, oh I loved it, but he didn't have to do it. We were seated in our very spacious seats, normally I am cuddled up to Paul in the front seat of the Holden when we go out to the movies, but this was something beyond my expectations.

The music died away, the lights began to dim, slowly, gradually, the Music came from everywhere in a loud thunderous tones, the cinema went black, the screen lit up, the screen, oh my, the screen, it was so large but also a long way away. Some ads for new cars and then cigarettes. Some short promo's about some upcoming movies, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid looked OK as did Easy Rider, but the others didn't thrill me, but I knew the John Wayne movie would thrill Paul. Which meant I was going to have to sit through it.

Then all of a sudden it was intermission, the lights came up and the music bellowed out, I closed my eyes to the light and Paul nudged me,

"Don't fall asleep, do you want a drink and an Ice cream?"

I nodded and stood up, as we slowly walked into the foyer over to the small counter for a bottle of Coke and an Ice cream, with half a Polly Waffle stuck in the top and covered in a thick heavy chocolate coating. Nice I thought as we walked back to our seats. I looked around the theatre and took in how marvelous it looked, so big.

Looking at the others in this small select group in the dress circle. All dressed up looking splendid. I blushed when I caught a lady looking at me, she smiled and nodded. I battered my eye lids unintentionally and looked down and away. But just as suddenly I looked back at her as she was talking to her male partner, a husband no doubt. My heart quickened as I took in her beauty, it was the first time I had studied the others in our immediate vicinity. She was quite pretty I thought to myself. Immediately I thought of Macca and the last weekend, I blushed again and crossed my ankles as I tucked them under my seat.

I was dying to ask Paul how much he had spent on the night, knowing he wasn't that well paid as an apprentice, albeit in his third year and still earnt a darn site more than me. Not that I even knew what he earnt, but I have heard him grumble often about it's not enough. I did overhear him tell his mates once, it was like his sex life. He never raised THAT with me.

The lights began to dim once again and the foyer music faded away, the curtains drew back as the Theme from 'Love Story' started, that hauntingly beautiful piano piece by Francis Lai. Little did I realise that that, single piece of music was to stay with me forever. How it brought me to tears so many times.

I sat back and became thoroughly engrossed in such a beautiful story, a sweet love story. I cried. And the catch cry from that movie 'Love means never having to say you're sorry', I went on to use throughout my entire life, to many people.

The end came along, and the lights gradually came up, I was crying, Paul was smiling at me. He held out his hand and I held it tightly, there were a lot of sniffles from round us in other seats. I dabbed at my eyes, trying not to smudge my makeup, smiled at him and mouthed the words, Thank You. We stood and joined the others leaving the auditorium and re-entered the foyer upstairs, most of the ladies were making a bee line for the powder room and I joined them.

Not as spiffy as the one in the restaurant but still pretty nice, for a loo. The ladies like before were exchanging pleasantries in an outer room while this time the door to the lavatories was clearly marked with a Pull sign, which I did and went in and made myself comfortable for the ride home.