Not The Shrinking Violet He Thought

Author's note: At the beginning of the 1970's, the British government raised the age of consent from sixteen to eighteen. This is important to know this because the male character in this story is eighteen.

The story is a completely fictional story, based roughly on a woman I remember from my past. Some of this story is fact, especially the stage show depicted here.

Like my previous story, this has been kicking around my laptop for about two years while life had its way. Now, I have the chance to finally tell it. I hope as always that you enjoy it and any nice comments are welcome.

Ok...let's get on with it.

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When Richard Aymes, or Rick to his friends, was six years old, his father quit his job in the local police force and moved his family across town to a small but very safe suburb. Over the years that suburb blossomed and grew into a large community.

They lived in a rented house on a quiet street. All the houses on that street were built identical. 3 bedroomed semi detached or duplexes, as the Americans call them, with front gardens, front bay windows and large back gardens.

Rick, now eighteen, was always a little curious about the house opposite. He lived nearly all his young life in the small box bedroom, next to his parents master bedroom. His younger sister bagged the large back bedroom from day one of them moving in and he never got a look in. So much for age having precedence.

The house opposite always seemed to be larger, despite it being built to same design. The only difference Rick could discern was that the occupiers of that house had taken away half their back lawn and replaced it with a driveway to park their car on.

Rick didn't know much about the people who lived there. His only information came from what his parents, in particular his mum, told him. His mum couldn't tell him their names, but she thought it was a fancy double barrelled name. His mum said she overheard a neighbour talking to the wife and she called her Mrs. Haversham-West. As far as his mum was aware, she didn't work, but her husband was high up in management in a factory, on an industrial estate, somewhere near to city. He drove a Ford Granada, so he must have been in upper management.

Rick smiled at that recollection. Judging how successful a man was by the car he drove. His own father, now a sales representative for a photo copier company, drove a Fiat Super-mirafiori. Enough said.

He never saw the couple together. When her husband was out at work and Rick was in his bedroom, he could look out over the road, at the Haversham-West's and occasionally he saw the wife out tending the small garden that ran adjacent to

the driveway.

To Rick, the woman always seemed unhappy. She seemed to dress very conservatively. Even during the hottest summer's, she never wore a bikini top or a tank top. She wore blouses. Usually with a pattern of some sort. She never wore shorts, only knee length skirts and Rick began to wonder if they were attached to some weird religion.

He knew a couple of sisters at his school who dressed almost identically. They had extremely long blond hair, which was plaited down the back and he remembered someone telling him that they had permission to keep that way and were not allowed to take part in gym. One day he saw the girls and their mother ride by on bicycles and they all looked the same. Dressed the same and with the same plaited hairstyle. He couldn't recollect the name of the religion they were a part of.

Mrs. Haversham-West wasn't part of a cult, but she did seem repressed, at least to Rick. The thing was, she was a very attractive woman. Rick guessed that she was probably in her forties, but that meant nothing these days. She stood about five foot seven, with a nice figure. Her blond hair was cut in a bob style, but with a curl. He could only guess at her breasts by the way they pushed the front of her blouse. Her hips were shapely enough to fill out the skirt and once her caught her as she was walking away and thought she may have a nice arse under the skirt.

Mr. Haversham-West was a odd little man, at least that's how Rick's dad described him. Not a very talkative person, he seemed about ten or fifteen years older than his wife. Balding on top, with hair that grew on the sides and the back of his head, he wore black, square framed spectacles. Rick only ever saw him dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and tie. He would catch him sometimes, leaving for work. He carried a brown leather briefcase, which always placed in the boot of his Granada.

Occasionally, Mrs. Haversham-West would come out to the car, dressed only in her nightgown and he would kiss her lightly on the cheek, before getting into the car and driving to work. Rick would wonder what Mrs. Haversham-West looked like under that nightgown.

Watching Mrs. Haversham-West started Rick to embark on a series of fantasies that would fuel is lonely nights in bed.

One night, Rick was awoken by a commotion coming from outside. There were blue lights flashing across his ceiling and he could hear a woman screaming.

His bed lay along the outside wall and so he was able to sit up and pull the curtain aside. He wiped his hand across the glass, to get rid of condensation and saw the drama beyond unfolding.

Mrs. Havesham-West was frantically running around in her nightgown, howling at the top of her lungs, while a couple of ambulancemen (we didn't have paramedics, or first responders in those days, ) were pushing a stretcher into the back of their vehicle.

Rick would learn the next morning that Mr. Haversham-West had suffered a heart attack in his sleep and died.

For about six months, Rick regularly saw Mrs. Haversham-West going about her business, pottering in her front garden, coming back from the supermarket, but always alone. His mum told Rick that Mrs. Haversham-West was in mourning and to leave her alone and stop watching her.

"You could get reported for being a peeping Tom," she warned. But Rick was curious, almost to the point of obsession.

Lying in bed one night, about 3 months later, Rick heard a car door slam and a woman's voice thank the driver for the lift.

He peeked his head through the curtains, just in time to see Mrs. Haversham-West leaning into the driver's window and hear her say, "Yes, same time next week. See you then."

it seemed strange to Rick, because until that point, he had never seen or heard her leave the house, in the evening.

She waved the car away and walked towards her house.

The strangest thing. As she reached her front door and put the key in the lock, Mrs. Haversham-West turned around and looked up at Rick's window. If Rick didn't know any better, he would've thought that she knew he was watching her. He saw her smile and then go into the house.

Rick lay back on the bed, his heart pounding. Had he been rumbled? Would the police come calling soon and cart him away.

After a week had gone by, there no sound of the police and his parents hadn't said anything to him, Rick relaxed and thought that he'd had it all wrong.

In case you have been wondering, Rick was on a summer break, after finishing school and awaiting to go to the Royal Academy Of Music, to which he had applied, passed all the criteria and had been accepted.

He was going to study classical percussion, piano and composition.

It was now August and he was due to leave for London in September.

One afternoon, the house phone rang, while Rick was upstairs in his bedroom, practicing. He heard his mum answer the phone and then shout to him,

"Rick, phone call for you."

He put down his drumsticks and ran down the stairs.

Picking up the receiver, he said, "Yeah, this is Rick."

"Hi Rick, this Andy Pearson, from Saturday morning music school."

"Oh hi mate. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I've got a job for you if you're interested."

"Sure fire away."

He grabbed a pad and pen and began to make notes.

"Six days from next week?" he said. "It's a bit short notice, but I can rearrange a few things. So it'll be no problem. I'll use your kit, so I don't have to set my own up. That works for me too. Any dosh involved?"

Andy replied that it was community project and completely voluntary, so no money.

It didn't matter to Rick as he enjoyed playing drums anyway. He asked Rick to sit in with him, on Friday and Saturday night, so that he could get a feel for the music and the show.

Rick agreed

He said goodbye and placed the receiver on the phone's cradle.

"Who was that?" asked his mum, as Rick walked in the kitchen, where she was baking.

"It was Andy Pearson from Saturday morning music school. He wants me to stand in for him, playing in a band for a show at the community theatre, while he goes on vacation with his family."

"Sounds nice: What kind of show is it?"

"Something called Cowardly Custard. It's a Noel Coward review. He wants me to join him tomorrow and Saturday and see what it's all about. Then I'll start on Monday to the following Saturday."

Rick sat in the orchestra pit with Andy and became his page turner for those two nights, in order to get a feel for the musical and learn the many musical cues he would have to follow. It also gave him a chance to meet the other people in the small band and bond with them.

The musical was based on a collection of songs by the well known song writer and playwright Sir Noel Coward. Some of the songs were comical and amusing, some were sad and some were romantic. Rick followed the music to the letter and watched Andy, paying no real attention to what was occurring on the stage.

Then came his first night on the drums without Andy as a safety net. All went well. Really well. He never missed a cue and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

The show was about halfway through, when it happened. Not long after the interval curtain, there was song called "Alice Is At It Again", which was a lament about parents regretting they never exorcised more control over their daughter and the escapades she got up to. Because Rick had not paid that much attention to the stage, he was not prepared for what he saw. A medium built, blond haired woman walked out onto the stage, as the introduction played and as the couple who portrayed the parents began to sing the song, the blond haired "Alice" proceeded to remove her clothing, one garment at a time. "Alice" wore a bright blue, wool cardigan, buttoned to the neck, under which was an plain, yellow dress, also buttoned up the neck and the hem finished just above her knees. Around her neck, "Alice" wore a silk scarf. From the waist down, she wore blue tights and matching blue "sensible" shoes, with low heels.

Rick was glued the scene unfolding, trying also to concentrate on playing the drums as well. His heart was thudding and his mouth was becoming dry as "Alice" unbuttoned the cardigan, removed the garment and tossed it into the wings of the stage. She then unbuttoned the dress and let it fall from her shoulders. Rick watched as the dress pooled around her ankles, leaving "Alice" standing in the middle of the stage wearing powder blue stocking, a very provocative, powder blue, lacy bra and matching panties.

Rick was beside himself. "Alice" was none other than Mrs. Haversham-West, the lady who lived across the road. The woman, whom he had fantasized about.

Now, here she was, disrobing in front of him, the band and two and half thousand strangers.

Rick nearly dropped his drumsticks as "Alice" turned around with her back to the audience, stepped out of the skirt that had pooled around her ankles and bent over to pick it up, giving the entire audience and Rick a magnificent view of her pantie covered bottom. Rick felt himself get hard as he tried to concentrate on playing the song.

"Alice" having stripped to her undies, as her parents sang on, pranced about the stage, in time to the music. The song consisted of six verses, three refrains and a couple of choruses. In all, the song was to last for five minutes.

"Alice" finished her piece, by removing the scarf and tossing it into the wings, before skipping off the side of the stage.

It took a few moments for Rick to compose himself. Andy hadn't warned him about "Alice". But in fairness, had he poked his head up occasionally, when he was turning Andy's pages, he would seen it for himself.

As Rick looked at the conductor, for beginning of the next song, he couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the conductor wink, as if to say, "you enjoyed that didn't you, mate".

There was a cast and band get-together after the show, at a pub around the corner from the theatre. But Rick's dad was picking him up and so he declined an offer for to join everyone.

When Rick went to bed that night, with the image of Barbara Haversham-West, dressed only in her bra and panties, burned into his memory. His cock was hard and he masturbated, dreaming about her removing the final garments and standing naked in front him. He grunted as he came and long streamers of semen erupted from his penis and splattered on his stomach.

For the next five days, everything repeated. Rick would do his job, sit eager eyed and stiff cocked as "Alice" performed her striptease and wait for his dad to pick him up. Rick would go to bed with his fantasy burning in his mind and masturbate himself to sleep.

Except for Friday night.

Rick's parents had bought tickets. Rick had told them that he was planning to staying after, to have a drink and chat with the band. He told them that it might be the last chance he would have. They told him that it was fine, but not to drink too much and not to stay out too late.

"Alice" performed her striptease, except when she removed her scarf, she looked down at Rick and tossed it into the orchestra pit, across his drums. As she skipped off the stage, she gave him a wink. He pulled the scarf from his drums, smiling, slightly embarrassed, and put it out of the way, on a chair next to him.

When the show was over and Rick was putting his drumsticks away, his parents came to him and told him how proud they were of him. His dad made a remark about the "Alice" song and the actress throwing the scarf at Rick. Rick assured him that it was all part of the act. His parents reiterated their warning about not staying too late. His mum kissed him on the cheek and they left the theatre.

Rick picked up the scarf and made his way backstage, looking for Barbara Haversham-West. He found her dressing room. There was a sign on the door that read, "ALICE". He knocked and waited for a reply. "Alice" opened the door, dressed in a white terry cloth bathrobe. She didn't seem surprised to see Rick standing at her door,.

"Ah," she said when she saw he was holding her scarf. "Why don't you come in."

They chatted for a bit, mostly small talk. He told her about his plans for music college and how his friend Andy had offered the chance to fill for him, while he went on vacation.

"Alice" listened politely before asking Rick, "Did you enjoy my part in the show?"

Rick suddenly felt as though the room temperature had risen ten degrees and sweat began to form on his brow. His heart thumped and his mouth became dry.,

"Because I noticed you seemed to be staring at me, every night," she continued.

"Like you watch me most days from your bedroom window."

Rick felt his cheeks redden and he stuttered, trying to defend himself.

Barbara placed her hand upon his, to clam him down.

"Relax," she said. "I am not angry. In fact I am very flattered to have someone so young look at me the way you do. It has been quite a while since anyone has take notice of me."

"Why?" asked Rick, shakily. "You're a very attractive woman."

Barbara thanked him for the compliment, but didn't answer his question.

Instead she asked, "Do you have plans for this evening?"

Rick explained that he thought he would join the cast for a drink in the pub.

Barbara winced and replied that it would only end badly as they had habit of getting heavily drunk. She said she wondered how any of them managed to remember their lines the following night.

"Why don't you come home with me," she said. "I mean you live across the street, which means I'm not going out my way and we can enjoy a nice drink and chat at my house."

Rick accepted.

When they arrived at Barbara's house, she parked in her driveway and they go out of the car. She unlocked the front door and ushered him inside.

They stood in small hallway, with a staircase leading off from the right, leading upstairs. At the end of the hallway was a small kitchen and to the left were two doors: one led to the dining room, at the back of the house. The other door opened into the lounge.

It was into lounge that Barbara took him by the arm and led him. First they removed their shoes and coats, which she hung over the newel post at the bottom of the bannister rail.

The lounge was tastefully decorated with a textured, patterned wallpaper, with an autumn leaf motif design. The furniture consisted of a beige velour covered three piece suite, which comprised of a 3 seater couch and two armchairs.

Barbara ask him to sit down, in an armchair and offered him wanted a beer to drink. He accepted her offer and she left him in lounge, while she went to retrieve a beer from the fridge, in the kitchen.

She returned with a can of Carlsberg and a glass. She popped the ring pull on the can and poured the golden liquid into the glass, before handing it to him.

"Make yourself home and relax," she said. I'm just popping upstairs, to change into more comfortable clothing."

Five minutes, Rick turned his head as he heard the lounge open. Barbara was standing in the doorway, dressed in a white towelling bathrobe, which held together by a sash, made from the same material and tied across at the waist.

He could only guess as to whether she was naked or not underneath.

He watched, open mouthed, as Barbara walked across the carpet towards Rick and stood directly in front of him, about two feet away from his chair.

She pulled the sash open, allowing the bathrobe to fall open. Rick saw that underneath she wore an exact copy of the underwear she had worn onstage that night.

"Relax," said Barbara. "I always keep a spare set at home. I brought the other set home, with me to put in the washing machine. The panties can get to sweaty, under those stage lights, you know."

She winked, wickedly at Rick.

She shrugged the bathrobe from her shoulders and stood in front of Rick with her hands on her hips. She ordered Rick to stand up and walked towards her. Rick did as he was told and soon he was standing a few inches from her semi-naked body.

"Give me your hands, Rick," Barbara demanded.

She grabbed both his hands by the wrists and held them to her breasts. Rick could feel her nipples, which were hard and pressed against the material her bra.

" You may squeeze my breasts, if you like, " she encouraged.

Rick had never been in this close proximity to a woman before. He once caught a glimpse of his mum before she stepped into the bath. From what he remembered, his mum had small breasts that turned up like bananas, and had pointed nipples. He remembered seeing a small tuft of dark pubic hair, but as is mum was

standing in profile to him, he could never say for sure as whether she had a really hairy bush or not.

Barbara's breasts felt soft, over the top of the bra material. Barbara turned around and asked Rick to undo the clasp on the bra strap. That was done with no fuss at all and Barbara allowed the garment to fall to the floor.

With her back still him, she asked him to come closer and put his arms around her.

She could feel his warm breath on her neck, as she took a hold of his hands and placed them once more on her naked breasts.

"Now I want you to kiss my neck and massage my breasts," she said. "Do you understand me?"