Hot Sex In the Big Freeze

The wind outside blew more snow and sleet around, and as I passed by the bathroom door I found it hard to believe that a girl as pretty and perfect as Janet actually went to the toilet. This was completely dumb, of course Janet went to the toilet she was human after all. It wasn't normal to think this way, I was behaving like Janet was a famous actress, a pop-singer or a member of the aristocracy. But in recent months since summer 1962 -- which seemed as far away as summer 1912 considering how harsh the winter had been -- and Janet and I had turned 18 I hadn't been thinking about the girl next door the way I used to.

Something in my brain just seemed to go wrong from that point, and before I knew it myself I had a full-blown crush on the girl next door whom I had grown up together with. I would go to the pictures with my mates from the garage and watch Janet sitting a few rows away with her girlfriends, and be looking in this direction more than the screen. We would often go to local dance halls, and I would watch Janet out on the dance floor -- she had always been a good dancer -- looking so pretty. One time her frock came up giving a quick glance of her white knickers, and could I stand up for the next 20 minutes or so?

I would watch Janet leaving the house in a variety of different outfits -- pretty frocks, skirts, blouses and jumpers, jeans or pedal-pusher pants - and feel my heart aflutter as I admired her feminine beauty. She of course was clad in more clothes now due to the freezing winter, but it didn't diminish her beauty.

Particularly pretty was an outfit Janet wore to her cousin's wedding in early September, consisting of a pink jacket, pink skirt to her knees and a matching pink hat. It made her look like an air hostess, or the attractive United States First Lady Jackie Kennedy, married to the very lucky President John F Kennedy. That night I lay in my bed indulging solitary vices thinking about Janet's pretty pink outfit and what color her bra and her panties were underneath.

Janet had gone out on dates with other guys in the past but she didn't have a serious boyfriend at the moment and I wasn't seeing anyone, so why didn't I ask her out? I had thought about it many times, and even come close on several occasions, but lost my nerve each time. Janet and I had grown up together and we were such good friends, perhaps she couldn't see me as anything else? And if I did ask her out, would it make things weird between us thereafter and damage our friendship thereafter? I didn't want to take that risk.

As I put the blankets out for Janet to use, I realized I had forgotten to bring the pillows and set off back upstairs to retrieve them. From the bathroom, I heard the sound of Janet unwinding toilet paper from the roll holder a few times and again found myself thinking dumb things about my secret crush, this time that she actually needed to use loo paper. The sensible side of my brain reminded me that of course she did and my conscience reminded me that I should respect Janet's privacy more, especially of course when she was on the toilet.

My conscience was always nagging at me every Saturday morning. This was the day Janet did her washing and I could always be found up a ladder pruning trees, washing the windows or cleaning the gutters, sneaking discrete glances into the Hutchings family's garden at the washing line, where Janet would peg her bras and her knickers out to dry.

Janet wore classic or full-brief knickers and bras that fastened at the back to restrain her ample young breasts. Most of Janet's bras and knickers were pure white in color, although she did have some underwear that was pastel-colored such as pink, light blue, lemon, pale green, mauve and apricot. A couple of pairs of her knickers had flowers on the white cotton fabric. Janet's simple taste in underwear seemed to make her bras and knickers sexier to me for some reason.

My mouth would water as I thought about how Janet wore those bras and knickers, and I thought about what she looked like in her bra and her panties. Mind you, I didn't stare too long into the neighbors' yard and at their daughter's underwear drying on the line. Mr. Hutchings was a big strong fit bloke as to be expected for a fireman, and while I obviously had never discussed the matter with him, I don't think he would have a high opinion of young men who went around perving on his teenage daughter's bras and knickers as they dried after she did her laundry.

And my Dad was a cop and I don't think he would have a high opinion of boys who got their thrills looking into other people's gardens and at a teenage girl's bras and knickers. I didn't think he would be very pleased if he got a knock on the door from the aggrieved fireman next door, complaining that his own son had been doing just this with his 18-year-old daughter's underwear.

In recent weeks however I had no reason to worry about being caught out looking at the pretty girl next door's bras or knickers on laundry day simply because the cold weather had cut off my chances to do this. Janet's underwear was presumably dried by the fireside rather than pegged outside on the clothes line. If Janet was silly enough to hang her bras and knickers outside, she would find them frozen solid in less than an hour.

From the bathroom, I heard Janet flush the toilet and wash her hands, then the door opened and she emerged, adjusting her jeans after pulling them up. "Since the cold weather started, I absolutely dread having to get up in the night to go to the loo and dropping my knickers to sit my bum down on the freezing cold toilet seat," Janet laughed as we walked downstairs.

The mental images of Janet pulling her knickers down and her bare bottom had the effect of sending blood to my groin but fortunately due to wearing a coat and so many other layers of clothing I could hide my embarrassment from my crush. "I'm glad I'm a guy, we get to stand up to pee," I laughed.

"Yes, lucky you," Janet said. "Not so easy for us girls, especially when the actual toilets freeze."

I had heard of this happening since the cold snap started. "Did it happen in your house?"

Janet shook her head. "No, at work on Tuesday."

I was surprised. "At work? I thought the plumbing might be better there than in a house."

Janet led the way into the sitting room where it was the warmest and we sat at opposite ends of the settee. "Not at the building where I work clearly. There was a group of us who all needed to use the loo during our morning break, so we went into the ladies and all the water in the toilets were frozen solid."

"So what did you do?"

"Well fortunately the men's toilets in the warehouse were still working, so our manageress had to arrange with the warehouse manager for the gents to be cleared so we could go out there and answer the call of nature, with them standing guard outside so no men went in there while we went to the toilet. It was quite embarrassing, all the guys were looking at us girls as we went by, thinking it was a great big joke and making comments."

"That sounds like a real ordeal," I said.

"It was," Janet affirmed. "Plus I don't know if you've ever noticed, but guys' toilets are absolutely disgusting."

Working with lots of guys at the garage who seemed to aim on the floor rather than the urinal, I could agree with Janet on that. "Yeah, boys are pigs sometimes. I've often wondered what the ladies' loos are like, I've never been in the women's toilets before."

Janet laughed her cute laugh. "I wouldn't try and find out for yourself Derek, you'd probably get arrested and prosecuted for being a pervert."

I also laughed. "Yeah, true."

"So when we go in there, the men's toilets are in a mess, and worst of all there's not enough toilet paper. We had to wait around while they got us more loo paper, then we had to wait again more than we would normally because there's obviously not as many stalls in the men's toilets as there are in the ladies' toilets. Then we had to walk back to the office with the guys all staring at us again. Plus I was cursed that day, which made it all the worse."

"Yeah, we all have really bad days like that, where it feels like you have nothing but bad luck," I agreed.

"I hope you don't have the same sort of day I had on Tuesday, Derek," Janet laughed. "If you do, you should see a doctor. I don't mean cursed like a gypsy's curse, I mean my monthlies, you know, my period?"

I blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Sorry Janet, I didn't know."

"That's okay Derek, you weren't to know, and I don't go around advertising it," Janet said. "Because it was my time of the month, I had to take care of a few female things when I went to the toilet, and the blokes' toilets of course don't have the same bins we have in the ladies' loo. So I when I got back to the office I had to try and go into the female toilets, but of course the plumbers are in there unfreezing the toilets so I couldn't. So I had to quickly run out to the big bin outside, and its right in the middle of a snowstorm so when I got back to my desk my fingers were frozen and I could barely type. I had really bad tummy pains all morning, and when I needed to go to the toilet again at lunchtime they'd fixed the plumbing in the ladies loo, but we had a power-cut so I had to go in there with a torch."

Like with Janet using the loo, I couldn't believe that Janet actually got her period but of course she did, and because we had been friends so many years she was reasonably open about the topic with me, more than a girl would normally be with a guy. One time when we were younger Janet and I went cycling together one sunny Saturday, and we had to stop for a break when Janet had a bad bout of menstrual cramps, me treating her to some sweets to make her feel better when she had recovered a bit and we were headed for home. Another day we went to the local chemist shop after school to get prescriptions filled, but Janet also purchased a mysterious package wrapped in brown paper from a female staff member, and advised me what the said packet contained.

And during my voyeurism of Janet's underwear I would notice that once every four weeks there was another item on the line with her bra and knickers, a belt she wore around her waist to keep her sanitary pads in place. Janet's sanitary belt didn't look a very comfortable contraption, and made me feel sorry for girls having to wear this every month plus have stomach ache. I was also glad I was born a boy and didn't get periods unlike my friend next door.

Outside, the winds picked up their intensity showering the windows with snow and the cats looked up from the fireside, and Janet and I both shivered despite the warm clothes we wore, and that we were inside.

"I hope that plywood holds during the night," I said.

"I think it should be okay, you did a pretty good job," Janet assured me.

There came another violent gust of wind that shook the house, and as had been the case earlier in the evening the lights flickered and Janet and I held our breaths, expecting the house to be plunged into darkness again, blackouts frequent this winter, but fortunately this time as had been the case earlier in the evening the electricity stayed on.

"I don't want to talk too soon, but thank God we didn't have another blackout then," said Janet. "I'm sick of power-cuts this winter."

"Me too," I agreed. "Which reminds me, thanks again to you and your parents for inviting us over for tea during the blackout on Wednesday."

"Please, it was the least we could do especially when we had the blackout last Saturday morning and you invited us over for breakfast," said Janet.

On Wednesday evening, we didn't have dinner prepared when the power failed. Lucky, next door Mrs. Hutchings had prepared plenty of casserole and vegetables so they invited us over to share. On Saturday morning, we had already prepared breakfast at our house when the power failed and the Hutchings family had not, so we invited them over to share.

It was quite an interesting experience, eating by candle-light in the freezing dim light with Janet's transistor radio providing the only source of background noise apart from the cold Arctic winds blowing outside. Fortunately, it was the time that the radio station was playing modern music, which only happened a few hours on a limited number of days per week. My parents and Janet's parents as to be expected weren't huge fans of rock and roll or pop music unlike Janet and me, but I think that they got to appreciate listening to the songs more as they brightened up the gloomy atmosphere as snow continued to fall unabated outside.

And there was a wide variety of music to listen to. From America we had Elvis Presley, Connie Francis, Bobby Darin, Sam Cooke, Bruce Channel, The Orlons and The Four Seasons. From Australia, we got to enjoy the sounds of Johnny O'Keefe and Frank Ifield. There were cheerful instrumentals from The Tornados, Acker Bilk, The Ventures and from our own country the Shadows. There were of course songs from ever-popular young British singers Cliff Richard, Helen Shapiro, Dusty Springfield and Kathy Kirby.

There was also a quartet of young men from Liverpool with an interesting and different sound. Their popularity was on the rise, and while I liked their music I always seemed to have a mental blank with the name of their band. Oh well, I was sure I would get to know it if they lived up to their potential in coming years.

"Well, it's important to help each other out in times like these," I said. "Like when our parents were younger during the war. At least we're not getting bombed like back then."

"Talking about the war, I'm getting used to drinking powdered milk now," said Janet. "The bottles of milk are always frozen solid as soon as the milkman delivers them -- that's if they get through the snow drifts at all - and I have nothing to put into my tea."

"Actually Janet, about that, I'm sorry, I can't believe I forgot my manners and didn't offer you a tea," I said. "It might warm us up a bit."

"Thanks Derek, I'd love one, I'll come and give you a hand," said Janet, accompanying me into the kitchen, where we made two cups of tea before returning to the sitting room. We sat back down on the sofa, pulling blankets over ourselves and sitting watching television, where the movie I had been watching earlier about the teenagers at the beach in California was just coming to a close.

"I bet they're a lot warmer than we are," commented Janet, indicating the boys out surfing in their shorts with girls in bathing suits -- some of them bikinis -- cheered them on from the sand.

"Yeah, I bet they are," I said. "Perhaps we should move to America?"

"It would depend on where you moved to in America," said Janet. "If you went to somewhere near the Great Lakes, it would be like this -- and often colder -- every winter and for longer."

"Yeah, good point," I said. "So how about Australia? It's much warmer in Australia. Look at the Empire Games in Perth a few months ago, they had such beautiful weather in Western Australia, and all those white sandy beaches and beautiful parks and gardens."

"Yeah they did," said Janet. "Perth was in the news a lot last year, with them turning on their lights so John Glenn could see the city from space. I really liked Melbourne from what I saw from the Olympic Games back in '56."

"I liked it too," I said, thinking back to the Olympics over six years earlier. "I felt jealous of all the athletes, they got to go and complete in Australia and the Queen got to go and open the games, and we were stuck back here going to school."

"I wonder what the Queen is doing tonight?" Janet mused.

"Probably the same as us, trying to keep warm with her husband and kids," I observed.

"It would be the same at Number 10 for Harold MacMillan and his wife," Janet said. "It's amazing, nobody can escape the cold this winter no matter who they are or where they live."

Outside, the wind rattled some loose objects but no way was I going into the snow and sleet to check it out. The movie came to an end and the credits rolled. "Have you got any plans to see any movies at the pictures?" I asked.

Janet shook her head. "Actually, I had planned to go to the cinema tonight with some of my girlfriends, but the weather was so bad we cancelled. I was tired anyway, we had some girls call in sick with the flu today, so we were busy in the office. How are things for you at work Derek? Busy too I imagine?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we've never been so busy. So many cars out of action with frozen fuel and oil, car batteries failing and accidents out on the icy roads. It's scary driving out there, I took a car for a test run after we finished repairing it, I drove less than a mile and the windows kept fogging up and it was like trying to drive on an ice-skating rink."

"Well, I got my license last summer, but I won't be putting my skills into action any time soon," said Janet. "I've seen idiots going around corners at speed, and nearly rolling over on their side."

"I've seen that too," I said. "People cutting off buses and lorries on icy roads, or racing to beat trains across a railway crossing when it's snowing heavily. It's nuts."

"I think the cold's turned lots of people crazy," said Janet, as we both finished our tea and put the cups down on the coffee table. "Plus lots of things have been cancelled, so not so much fun for people. Like horse racing. I don't think my Grandad knows what to do without his weekly bet on the horses."

"Same for the football," I said. "So many matches postponed and cancelled. Plus what it is with the football pools? Guessing draws on matches that haven't even been played? It doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, Dad can't work it out either," said Janet. "But if there was one guy in England whose had his main source of fun taken away this winter, it would be you Derek."

I was puzzled. "Me? How's that?"

Janet answered me dead-pan, her expression on her pretty face completely neutral. "Because now you can't climb up a ladder every Saturday morning and look into the garden to see my bras and my knickers hanging on the line."

I stopped rigid, like I had been stung by a bee. My heart raced, and for the first time since this cold snap kicked in over a month ago, I felt hot, sweating in my layers of clothing not to mention my thermal underwear. Beads of sweat formed on my face.

"No Janet, it's not true, you're mistaken ..." I said.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Janet, a teasing tone in her voice. "Why do you only climb up that ladder and pretend to check the gutters or prune the bushes every Saturday morning when I do my laundry and hang my underwear on the line to dry? I've never seen anyone pretend so hard that they're not looking into another person's garden."

"Janet, I'm sorry, I don't mean to, I won't do it again ..." I pleaded, hoping she wouldn't tell her parents.

"Oh, that's a pity," Janet said, leaning back with her big brown eyes looking directly at me. "I kind of like you looking at my bras and knickers, it's so sexy, you with your crush on me."

"Janet, that's not true, I don't have a crush on you," I protested.

"You don't?" Janet again looked directly at me.

"No, I mean not much, just a little bit because you're so pretty, I don't mean to," I said, unsure about what to do about this turn of events.

Janet laughed. "Derek, relax okay. I really like it that you have a crush on me because guess what? I find it dead sexy, the handsome boy next door liking me."

I was amazed. With my tall, slim, lanky frame with pale blue eyes and light brown hair, I was pretty non-descript and easily eclipsed in the looks department by the beauty next door. I looked at Janet. "So you know I like you, and you like me?"

"Of course I do," said Janet. "And you know what? We're alone, and there's ways we can not only keep warm, but have fun too." She fluttered the long lashes on her pretty brown eyes, pushed back the hood of her red parka, and flirtatiously played with her long dark brown hair. "Can you guess what that is?"