How Faint Heart Won Fair Lady

When I was at University I had a good friend who always had a pretty girl and sometimes an older woman on his arm. He was of Greek extraction, and to be honest thirty years on I can't remember his real name, but I knew him by his nickname; Ado, short for Adonis, the Greek god of beauty.

Ado was not particularly smart. He flunked out of University after the first year because he was lazy and neglected to study. He wasn't well off. And he hated discos, parties, and loud music. He was good looking, well dressed, and confident.

Ado had a tried and tested technique for finding women. If he saw an attractive woman alone on the street he would walk up to them and politely ask them if they would like to go to bed with him. He reckoned he had less than a 1% success rate, and that nearly always they would wordlessly walk away. Sometimes they would rudely decline, and once he got slapped! Nonetheless he could ask ten girls in an hour on a busy Saturday afternoon, and in his own words,

"It was very cost effective."

Another friend James was from a well-off family, and lived in a rented well-furnished, semi-detached, urban house with a garden, with his red sports car in the driveway. This was at a time when most students lived in Halls of Residence or student (slum) flats. He was always taking one or another beautiful girl for dinner.

And yet another mate Laurie, was the master of the chat up line. He did it with such ease and fluency that I don't think the ladies knew what he was up to until it was too late. Laurie was poor, and average looking with a crooked nose, but it didn't seem to matter. What may have helped was that he didn't just target good looking girls.

I remember on one occasion we were returning home from a disco, were alone with no female company, and were sitting on the top deck of the nearly empty number 12 bus. Shortly after taking our seats Laurie excused himself and wandered off. When I reached our stop he was nowhere to be seen so I went home to bed. About 5 am in the morning he came home. Later in the day he proudly announced that he'd spotted a girl sitting on her own at the back of the bus when we had got on, and then chatted her up, taken her home, and "given her one." The only downside to this was that in his haste to leave her after getting what he wanted he had forgotten an expensive watch which had been a present from his parents. He was too embarrassed to go and pick it up from her house and didn't want to reacquaint himself. So, for three pints and the bus fare I went and collected it. Frankly, I was surprised she hadn't pawned it!

All these three were successful with the ladies albeit in different ways and with varying degrees of success, but the one thing they had in common was confidence.

And I had no confidence whatsoever.

I was six feet four inches tall, with a swimmer's physique, good looking, and desperate. I suppose if I had been willing to go out with a plain girl that nobody else wanted I could have been more successful. In the ignorance of youth, I didn't yet appreciate that even the plainest of us, man or woman, can have many other endearing qualities. Nonetheless, the result was that any pretty girl I approached could sense the pheromones I was giving off and promptly ran a mile.

Thankfully, with time things improved, and by the time I finished my master's degree In physics I had had a couple of long-term relationships although neither had lasted.

After 6 years of University and at the age of twenty-five I had to start earning a living and got a Job with a large multinational electronics firm.

And that was when I met Liz.

The Italians call it the "Colpo di fulmine." When love strikes someone like lightening, so powerful and intense it can't be denied. Liz was tall, five feet eleven inches in her stockinged feet. well-proportioned with a nice figure and was the most attractive woman I had ever met. She had shoulder length black hair, a pert nose, smiling lips, and round deep blue eyes. And when she spoke she had a soft Irish accent. I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

And she was married.

Liz worked in the secretarial pool and did not work for any particular individual and on occasion She would type documents and letters for me. And I worshipped her silently from afar.

Our relationship was entirely professional until the Christmas staff party. We were sat at the same table and at first she was quiet but subdued but after a few wines she loosened up and we sat together and talked. She was wonderful company and appeared extremely interested in my life and background but said little about herself other than she was married with no children, and when I asked about her husband she brushed my question away. When, after a little too much wine we ended up dancing with each other and as a familiar smoochy song was playing, she looked at me and for just a moment I thought she would kiss me. And then she murmured,

"I'm sorry. I'm not free yet. I must go home."

And with that she turned and a little later was gone.

At first I was devastated but when I woke in the cold light of dawn I realised that she had been right and that a drunken kiss at a staff part between two colleagues, one of whom was married to someone else, would not have been the best of ideas.

But that didn't help me. Throughout January and into February I interacted with Liz as we had before, but I would watch her from a distance and my lovesickness festered. I was smitten. And then I heard a rumour that all was not well with her marriage and that her husband had had an affair and divorce was looming.

As Valentine's Day approached I became determined that I should use this as an opportunity to try for a relationship with Liz but In my usual unconfident manner was frightened of the direct approach and feared being rebuffed. I also knew I must act because if Liz became free of her husband she would undoubtably not suffer a lack of suitors. And so, I decided to send her a card with a message.

With hindsight and the wisdom that comes with age the message I wrote was desperate and should never have worked. Nonetheless after writing and rewriting it, I eventually got something I was happy with, and on February the thirteenth put a card with my message on her desk at work.

The Message said.

"If you are free I would love to take you to dinner on Valentine's Day. I don't want to embarrass you or myself by approaching you because this may not be possible if you have other arrangements. I hope you know who I am and if you can't make me happy ignore this message. If you suspect you know my identity engage me in conversation concerning my plans for Valentine's Day in the morning. XX"

On the morning of Valentine's Day as I passed by her desk the envelope was gone. I spent the early part of the morning fidgeting and pretending to work until about 10 o'clock I saw Liz walking up to my desk and as my heart rate rose and my palms started to sweat she cheerily addressed me,

"Morning Roger. You look a little peaky this morning. Hope you're not sickening but I was going to ask you if you'd like to come out to dinner this evening. Its Valentines and I've booked a table, but my date can't come, and it seems a shame to waste it."

I took a deep breath and said as calmly as I could manage.

"I'd love to come to dinner. Thanks for asking. what time and where? "

"My place at 7.30. I've written it down. We'll go from there. Smart casual. See you then."

And she pressed a slip of paper into the palm of my hand, turned and was gone.

And I sat at my desk and couldn't believe what had just happened. And then it dawned on me that if Liz hadn't already got a table It would have been impossible to find one at such short notice and we would have had nowhere to go since I'd forgotten to book one!

That evening full of trepidation I arrived at Liz's home. In my hand was a bunch of red roses. She met me at the door and invited me in. She was dressed in a long red pencil dress with a white embroidered blouse and had made obviously spent time doing her hair and applying her makeup. She looked more beautiful than any women I had ever seen, and as I admired her it must have showed.

"You like" she said

"You're very beautiful." was all I could manage as I handed her the flowers.

And then in a more business-like manner she told me that there was no dinner table booked and no missing date, but she had decided to cook dinner for me at home. She hoped I didn't mind.

She had gone to a lot of trouble. The table was set, and the lighting subdued. There was a chilled bottle of a good quality white wine and two glasses on the sideboard. The food was wonderful. She had prepared clam chowder followed by lasagne and salad, and then fruit.

And whilst we ate she told me about herself. She had married young, but it had been a mistake and her husband had had several affairs and had left her for his 19-year-old secretary 2 years ago. She was a Catholic and took her vows seriously and had had no relationship since he was gone. And finally, she had obtained her divorce absolute two weeks ago. And then we sat and talked about other things. I don't remember what we spoke about that evening, but I now know that sometime that evening I fell deeply and irrevocably in love

We cleared the dishes together and sat together on the settee drinking coffee. I had put my cup down on the table when Liz did the same.

"And now I'm free," she said.

And she turned and kissed me hard and deep. And I kissed her back. We lay on the settee together and as I kissed her I reached behind her to unclip her bra.

"I'll make it easier for you," she said with a smile

And then she stood in front of me and slowly and shamelessly took her clothes off. Her body was more beautiful than I had imagined. her breasts were large but firm, her belly was taught and flat, and her bum was round and perfectly formed.

And for the second time that evening she said, "You like?"

"You're so very beautiful," I croaked

I was trembling with love and lust.

And then she stripped me, and when I was naked took my already rock-hard erection in her mouth. Then when she knew I was ready she crossed to the record player and pushed a button and as a familiar smoochy song softly played in the background she lay back, opened her legs, and welcomed me inside her.

And soon after we climaxed together.

And I realised with clarity that Liz was telling me she loved me.

And as she lay in my arms moist with the sweat of our passion I thought my heart would burst from the love I felt for her.

Later we made love again. This time our lovemaking was slow and gentle, and I wanted the moment to be as long and drawn out as possible. The record player was silent and as we moved together I could clearly her gentle moans and whimpers which grew louder as she moved towards her climax. And when she finally reached her orgasm and her blue eyes widened she arched her back, clasped me firmly between her trembling thighs, and let out a deep cry of release.

It is now twenty-five years on, and we are both in our fifties. Whilst I am a plump middle-aged man, Liz remains beautiful both inside and out. Whilst I look better with my clothes on, Liz is still one of those rare human beings that looks better naked. We both remain deeply in love and now have three grown up children. I do not understand why I've been chosen by fate to be loved by such an extraordinary human being.

Several years ago, when I was tidying the loft I found a box of unopened Valentine's cards, and amongst them was mine. When I approached Liz she told me that she used to get so many cards that.

"In the end I never bothered to open them."

And when I showed her my unopened card she laughed.

"I always liked you. And when that Christmas party they were playing that song I knew I wanted you, but I was still married. And after I divorced, you never really had a chance. And I knew you didn't have a date that first night because I asked around and I knew you carried a torch for me."

And then she took me to bed.