Reconnecting With an Old Flame Pt. 01

Catching up with an old flame Pt 01

After departing Leeds on my way to Manchester to meet up with another significant figure from my past, while I would have loved one final dalliance with Lyndon, there was no opportunity. That left my powder dry for an outside shot with the woman that took my anal virginity one summer in 1995.

Jennifer and I were in a brief sexual relationship, having been friends before and after our tryst. We shared the same friends and socialised in similar circles. I am sure we would have continued, but for the fact that I decided to move to Australia before Jennifer and I became lovers.

Why was it an outside shot? Jennifer was married and had been for at least twenty years; that was the last time we saw each other. I did not know the man she married, but he was an unknown to our circles, and they moved to town in Lancashire, an easy 40-minute drive from Manchester.

My return flight to Australia departed Manchester, and so the city was a convenient meeting place for us to meet. I set aside two nights at the Holiday Inn because Jennifer had not yet confirmed her plans. Either Saturday or Sunday. I texted her as the train departed Leeds and received an almost immediate reply. She was already in Manchester waiting for me, and we agreed to meet in the lobby of my hotel.

I had not spent real time in Manchester after the city centre was bombed in the early nineties. UK-based friends told me the city had been significantly reinvigorated and boasted numerous classy eateries. I spent the rest of the journey chatting innocuously with Jennifer, looking for suitable pubs and restaurants near my hotel.

I had more interaction with Jennifer previously via Facebook interactions than with Lyndon, but I was more nervous about this meeting. Since 1995, I have met Jennifer twice during the intervening period and hooked up both times. Now that she was married, I had to be on my best behaviour, with no flirting or propositioning, despite the expectation that we would engage in serious drinking.

The train arrived on time, and I went to the hotel. Looking across the lobby, I could not see the Jennifer I had in my mind. Several people were milling in the lobby, but none looked like my old girlfriend. I checked in, and the porter hauled my suitcase to my room. Once settled in, I texted Jennifer and received a partial photo of her face with the Holiday Inn logo in the background.

The first thing I noticed was long streaks of blonde hair. I saw a tall blonde in the lobby, whose back was to me because I had approached the service desk opposite.

"Okay, I'll be down in a second!" I replied after taking a deep breath while looking back at myself in the bathroom mirror.

My palms were sweaty as I pressed the "G" in the lift, and the journey took forever. After the 'ding', the doors opened and standing in a circular lounge in the middle of the lobby was a tall, stunning blonde wearing dark sunglasses but sporting a huge grin.

"Hi", Jennifer screeched, which turned a few heads, "So good to see you!"

"Likewise," I said as we hugged tightly.

"Let me look at you," She gushed when we broke the hug, "Can't believe you are here!"

"I can't believe we're meeting," I said, "You look great!"

"So do you," And we hugged some more.

"Oh, I'm getting all emotional," Jennifer sobbed, wiping a hear from her eye, "It's been far too long."

It had indeed. I had returned to the UK to visit family and friends every few years since our last meeting in 2000. Our schedules constantly clashed, and it had nothing to do with the husband, as he was happy for Jennifer to continue socialising with our old crew. Many were ex-boyfriends, some known to me and others unknown (until recently).

"Shall we find a place to get a drink?" I asked as Jennifer composed herself.

"I'd love to," said Jennifer, "But can I impose on you to store my bag in your room?"

"I would be delighted."

The weather was warm(er) and sunny compared to the miserable drizzle that enveloped Leeds the day before, and this improved weather certainly affected our spirits. Right off the bat, Jennifer wrapped an arm in mine as we strolled up Piccadilly in search of the watering hole.

"Do you have a preference?" I asked Jennifer as we passed several upscale bars that were well patronised even by Saturday afternoon standards.

We chose a brasserie with a pleasant décor, and was a little less busy than some of the other drinking joints we passed.

"What can I get you?" Jennifer asked.

"Well, it's early," I observed, a little taken aback at Jennifer's forwardness, "Kronenbourg for me."

"Really, still?" Jennifer laughed, "After all this time?"

"I can't get this beer in Australia," I chuckled, "So that's my choice, and I'm sticking with it."

"Fair enough, ya dag!" Jennifer perused the wine list and chose a red wine from South Africa.

Taking our drink, we parked ourselves at a high table as far away from the blaring music as possible so that we could talk.

"Cheers," We clinked glasses, and Jennifer watched me with an amused look on her face as I took a sip.

"What?" I asked bemused.

"It's always the same," She said, "Every time we've met in the past, you get a 1664, and I get a red wine."

"We must be boring," I said, borrowing a turn of phrase from the TV show 'Brooklyn 99', "Or creatures of habit."

"Aren't they the same thing?" She chuckled.

"No, habits can be broken, but that doesn't preclude those creatures from occasionally doing something wild and unexpected."

"Wild and unexpected, eh?" Jennifer asked, raising her eyebrows, "We are known for doing both of those."

"Like sex in a churchyard cemetery?"

Jennifer laughed at the memory. It's probably not something I should have brought up, given the solid existence of a golden ring on her wedding finger, which she played with constantly. It couldn't be helped, though; we shared a lot of chemistry, and it was good to know that it had not diminished over time.

To be fair, Jennifer shared banter online, but it was mostly innocent and visible to our circle of friends. None of that banter would be considered flirtatious or inappropriate, but we shared our laughs with our mates.

"Yeah, that was wild and unexpected for sure," She agreed, "Those skeletons sure got a show."

"What outrageous things have you done since then?" I asked, wincing inside because my question could be considered flirtatious.

"Hm," She replied, thinking about some of the many things I was sure would outshine any examples I could describe, "Let me come back to you on that."

"As long as nothing happened in a morgue, then I think you'll be fine," I joked.

"Nothing like that," Jennifer laughed, "Moving on, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks," I said, "Like I said on Facebook, my brother had cut us off since about 2005, so I had no idea what he was up to."

"Yeah, I didn't know you had an elder brother all this time," Jennifer said, "That's why it came as a shock when Hank posted asking whether Gavin O'Connell was your brother."

"Thank god for Hank," I said, "Otherwise, I would never have found out."

"How is he?" Jennifer asked.

"Yeah, we had some memorable nights out," I chuckled, "His girlfriend still hates me."

"Me too," Jennifer said, "Don't know why."

"I didn't," I said, "Until recently."

"What do you mean?" Jennifer asked quizzically.

"Adam told me something I did not know about you," I smiled.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I had no idea that you and Hank were a thing."

Jennifer turned bright red at the revelation but regained her poise after I reassured her that I had no problem with her and my best friend getting together.

"When did that happen?" I asked.

"Back when he had hair," She laughed.

"That long ago?" I said, "Back when I had hair."

"When did you lose your mane?"

"Around 2005."

"That's a shame," Jennifer said, "You two both had the sexiest metal hair."

"Being bald is much easier to maintain," I laughed, "No high-priced hairdressers'."

"I remember you going to your mum's hairdresser," Jennifer giggled, "The bald look is hot, though."

"Do we wear it well?"

"Most certainly!"

That was a nice compliment to receive. Hank and I were deeply conscious about losing our hair, but I've become accepting of the look.

"So that's why Hank's girlfriend doesn't like you," I said, returning to the subject, "She knows about your shared past!"

"What's it matter to her?" Jennifer asked indignantly, "Hank and I broke up months before they got together."

"Isn't it obvious," I said, "She doesn't like that you two remain friends."

"She's jealous?"

"I spoke to my cousin Tracey about it," I said, who had employed Hank's girlfriend when they met, "And confirmed it."

"Wow, she's thin-skinned," Jennifer chuckled, "Good to know."

"If I have too much of this," I said, holding up the glass of 1664, "And ask you for a comparison, please tell me to go and jump."

"Well, if I have too much of this," Laughed Jennifer, "I might just tell you."

"You'd fake it and tell me I was the best!"

"Do you want me to stroke your ego, or?" Jennifer cut short her question with a cheeky smile.

We sat silent for a moment. Our table was by a large bay window that amplified the sun's heat. Jennifer stood up and removed her burgundy wool overcoat, placing it over the table. Underneath, she wore a soft blue woollen dress perfectly contoured to her voluptuous body.

Jennifer was several years older than me, and while she had no kids, an overly indulgent lifestyle had added some wobbly bits, she was in great shape with long legs, a shapely butt, and big boobs. Facially, she was pretty but not a head-turner.

Back in the day, her hair was a deep brown colour worn short to her jawline. Jennnifer sported large, librarian-style glasses that looked dated even by 2000. Now, though, her mane was coloured blonde and long down to her elbows, the glasses had given way to contact lenses, and she wore makeup now, subtle but noticeable.

We chatted for several hours and reminisced about old and current friends, historical adventures, and trouble, and filled in some of the blanks that occurred over the last twenty years. I noticed that Jennifer rarely mentioned or included her husband when describing significant events, even though I knew he had been involved.

The beer was going to my head, and the hunger was creeping up. I suspected that Jennifer would be in a worse state, given her wine was more potent than my beer, but she raised it when a waitress flitted by carrying a dish whose aroma stimulated our nostrils.

"That smelt good," Jennifer exclaimed, "Getting hungry, and I'd better eat something before I become too lightheaded."

"I feel the same."

"Shall we get a bite to eat?"

"I would love to take you to dinner," I beamed.

"Dinner?" Jennifer teased, "Ladida."

"We've wined and dined before," I replied, "No big deal."

"Sometimes we 69'd afterwards," She laughed raucously.

"Very true," I observed, doubting that would be the outcome today, "What do you fancy?"

"Erm, Italian," She replied, after a moment's consideration, "Or Indian."

"Given the choice, I'd prefer Indian," I said, "Hard to find quality Indian in Australia."

"You can't get Indian?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes, you can get it everywhere," I confirmed, "But it's nowhere near as tasty as the British equivalent."

"Cool, I'm happy with Indian."

We spent a few minutes searching for a suitable nearby restaurant before finishing our drinks, rugging up before walking together through The Village. Like before, Jennifer wrapped an arm in mine and pressed her body into mine with her head resting on my shoulder.

The eager waiter escorted us to a darkened booth lit only by a scented candle. The spicy aromas wafted from the kitchen, the wailing sitar music in the background and the traditional dress worn by the wait staff created an exotic and intimate atmosphere. We ordered entrees, mains and wine and chatted until the first dishes began arriving.

"What time's your train?" I asked after observing the time.

"Sometime tomorrow."

"Oh, so you are staying in town?"

"Yes, I am," Jennifer replied, amused that I was not connecting the dots.

"Close by?" It was now a game of cat and mouse.

"Sure."

"Where your bag is currently located?"

"Uh-huh."

"How very presumptive," I smiled, but I doubted everything was what it seemed.

"I didn't think you'd object," Jennifer chuckled, "Besides, your room likely has a king bed?"

"It does," I replied, wondering how she knew that detail about my room.

"Then there's plenty of room for both of us," Jennifer smiled, "And, of course, nothing untoward is going to happen."

"Of course not," I smiled, "Because you are married."

"That's right."

"Did you clear for this arrangement from HQ?"

"Why would I need approval from HQ?" Jennifer asked, "He's gone away with his friends before."

"Has he shared a bed with an ex-girlfriend?" I laughed at her audacity.

"Oh, he has none of those," Jennifer snorted, "But he doesn't have a problem with me catching up with my friends."

"So, he's aware that we're catching up?"

Jennifer did not answer verbally but shot me a look indicating he did not know about our meeting directly. Aside from some light flirting and innuendo, there was nothing to suggest that Jennifer would do anything other than sleep in the bed.

My odds were a longshot at best when I left Leeds, but they had shortened considerably. More boundary testing was required before I knew where we stood with each other before the evening ended.

After finishing a wonderful Indian meal and a half-decent bottle of wine, we searched for live music. So were hundreds of others as crowds of revellers spilt into the city centre. We settled on a venue where we had a fighting chance of getting to the bar, grabbed a couple of drinks and secured a table with a view of the stage.

Jennifer sat so close to me that I could smell her perfume. We clinked glasses, and she shot me a cheeky grin. It was as if those twenty years apart had never happened; such was the familiarity between us.

"This place reminds me of The Station Hotel," I said, referring to a pub that we used to hang out together back in the day.

"Yeah, it does a bit," Jennifer agreed, "We had a lot of good times there. I miss those."

"Well, you and I and a couple of others grew up and moved away," I said, "Plenty of our crowd remain."

"Yes, they are the lifers," Jennifer chuckled.

"Like your ex-lover, Hank," I teased.

Jennifer slapped my leg before leaving it there. She saw me notice and glance at her but kept her gaze straight ahead.

"You two were great lovers," Jennifer smiled, "Both very different."

"In what way?" I asked, circling back to the conversation earlier.

Jennifer thought for a second before turning with a beautiful smile. She said my approach was very passionate, bordering on the hardcore, with a preference for outdoor displays of public affection. Whereas Hank was an indoors, lights down-low lover.

"I still have most of those dirty letters you wrote to me," Jennifer chuckled, "And they continue to fire me up."

"I occasionally write fictional erotic stories and publish them on the Literotica website."

"Don't tell me where to find them, or I'll get no work!" She laughed, "What sort of things do you write about?"

"Whatever inspires me," I replied, "I have written about and embellished actual events in my life. Other times, the stories are pure fantasy."

"Dare I ask," Jennifer asked, scratching her forehead, "Am I appear in any of those stories?"

"What do you think?"

"I should think so," She scolded, "We had some wild times together."

"Do you have a favourite?"

"Er, I do," She said after taking a moment to think, "There are two, but the one that means the most to me was when we drove to the Moors, and you gave me that back massage!"

"I remember, we both came multiple times!"

"Yes, that was the first time I experienced a guy orgasm more than once per day."

We laughed at the memory. It was one of those rare warm days in northern England when you could sunbathe. I brought a bottle of scented sunscreen because I burn easily, but I ended up using it to give Jennifer her massage. Things got down and dirty very quickly.

"And the other favourite?" I asked.

"I'll leave that for later in the evening," Jennifer replied, "That one's a little ruder."

I knew which experience she was alluding to and made a mental note to ask her later.

"What are your favourite experiences?" Jennifer asked.

"The massage, the cemetery and the sleazy car park are all up there," I replied, "But the best experience is when we went to the Lake District for that weekend end away. Good food and drink, awesome sights and endless sex."

"That was when you showed me your romantic side," Jennifer sighed, "Before that, I may as well have been a pornstar."

"Yes, it got pretty hardcore at times," I chuckled, "But I was young, dumb and full of...you can finish that line off."

"Not always full of the last part of that saying," Jenifer laughed, her eyes sparkling in the light.

"Yes, you found some imaginative ways of relieving me of my load."

"Be right back," Jennifer said, cheeks slightly red.

She was gone a long time and thought about sending a text to her, but thought better of it. Instead, I went to the bar and bought us refills. The lights dimmed as I returned to the table, and the band struck up its first evening tune.

"Thought I had to send out a search party," I said when Jennifer returned.

"Sorry, but there was a queue."

Something happened to Jennifer while she visited the toilet. She seemed a little jumpy; her cheeks were crimson, sweat had broken on her brow, and she was giving off an intense heat. Her hand the faintest wobble to it when she brought the glass to her lips. After taking the deepest breath, closing her eyes and exhaling, Jennifer regained her former composure.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Jennifer turned and looked at me intensely before staring back at the band.

"Fuck it," She said, turning back to me and placing a hand gently on the back of my head, "Kiss me!"

Our lips met for the first time in twenty years, and it felt like yesterday. There was no passionate urgency that, hopefully, would occur later behind closed doors.

"What made you do that?" I asked when we broke the kiss.

"I've been horny for you since you walked out of that lift," She replied, "Only now decided to act on it. I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not," I said, "If you're comfortable, then so am I."

We kissed again, longer this time, our tongues glancing off one another. I started to grow hard as Jennifer's pheromones began scrambling my senses.

Jennifer returned her hand to my thigh and softly stroked my leg. Before long, her hand had moved up, and her thumb glanced across my bulge. She shot me a quizzical look, and I grabbed Jennifer's hand and placed it firmly on my crotch.

"Wow, you're so fucking hard," She said above the music.

"And I'll wager that you're soaking," I said, "That's why you were gone so long."

"Sorry," She said while not being sorry, "I had to take care of myself."

"A cheeky orgasm?"

"Something like that," She confessed, "After these drinks."

"To the hotel?"

"To bed!"

It was hard to keep our hands from each other, but society's standards dictated that we behave as discretely as our hormones allowed. On the short distance back to my hotel, I had to restrain myself from dragging Jennifer down a dark alley and using her holes for my pleasure. Had I suggested it, I was sure she would have agreed. After all, we played in public as much as we did behind closed doors when we were together.