The Amberdown Chronicles Pt. 01

THE AMBERDOWN CHRONICLES Part 01 - When Gina Met Michael

The first in a new series of stories set in the apparently sleepy English town of Amberdown, the setting for my previous series 'Beth's Summer Break'. Some old friends will be returning, some new characters introduced and a bit of back story included here and there to flesh out events previously alluded to in BSB.

In part one we find out exactly what happened on that fateful day when blonde bombshell MILF Gina met her new black American lover Mike; events which were first chronicled in parts 1 and 3 of 'Beth's Summer Break'.

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Chapter One

Strangely it really had started as a girly lunch. It was all going the usual way with the three of them. Some laughs, some serious talk, good food, wine and company. They were in the restaurant of the Albermarle Hotel in the small market town of Amberdown, somewhere on the South Downs between London and Brighton.

They met regularly, enjoying each other's company. Jen and Mel loved the salacious tales that Gina told of her past and present. The latter revelled in being the centre of attention; giving her friends all her dirty little secrets as they ate drank and made merry.

Melanie Taylor was in her mid thirties, a little younger than the other two women, who were both forty-one, Jen a few months younger than Gina. Mel had been a bit of a wild-child in her youth, but once married had settled down in this small market town and opened up a very successful beauty and hair salon. Gina, who among other things was a qualified business adviser, was currently giving her advice on her plans for upsizing, but that was strictly off the agenda today. Today was all about pleasure.

Mel was a looker alright, with a lovely wide face, big blue eyes and a very well coiffed mane of fluffy blonde hair. Gina knew she had swung both ways briefly in her wild days, and despite them being firm friends would have given anything to spend a few blissful hours getting to know every inch of her gorgeous body. She thought often of how that lovely, sultry mouth would look wrapped around a nice stiff cock.

Jennifer Caldwell was also happily married, but unknown to the other two women, had a deep rooted and unrequited desire. She was tiny - around five feet tall and of delicate build. She had short black hair, expertly cropped into her neck by Mel's girls, and fine cat-like features. Her purring voice sounded like she gargled with the finest manuka honey. Gina thought of her as a porcelain doll, but given the size of her husband she must be quite robust as they apparently had a vigorous sex life.

Jen ran an exclusive lingerie boutique in the town and Gina and Mel were frequent customers. Jen and Mel often joked that Gina spent so much money in each of their salons she was practically a major shareholder.

What neither of them knew, nor Jen would really like to admit to herself, was that she was becoming increasingly attracted to some of her clientele. Being in such close proximity to scantily clad, beautiful women of all ages and sizes was having an effect on her, and sometimes she had to fight hard not to do anything inappropriate. When her husband was away on business she was finding herself drawn to websites that featured older ladies making love to younger girls. It was an urge she had to fight harder as she got older and she felt if she didn't do something about it soon, her chance would be gone.

And then there was Gina.

Georgina Amelia Harcourt - forty one years old and unmarried. Gina had a past and a present that would fill a book. She was proud of the way she had risen from a low base to become not only a successful businesswoman in her own right, but still maintain a very lucrative living from escort work and co-owning the agency that had once employed her.

She was the sort of woman that turned heads in the street. She dressed immaculately in designer labels, used the best beauty products and perfumes and kept her shoulder length natural blonde hair in perfect condition. Well, Mel did most of the work, but Gina still knew how to coax the best out of it when Mel was unavailable. She was proud that she had never had any work done, nor needed to, although many a man, or indeed woman, had thought that her magnificent breasts must have been enhanced. But no - her 34D's were all her own work, as she liked to joke.

Her Liverpool twang had long since been covered over by a generic southern-English middle class accent, but there were times when the Scouse in her came out, usually when angry and most definitely when she was aroused.

She had fairly recently taken up with an academic named Andrew Hamilton, a handsome man a few years older than her. She had never really intended a long-term relationship, but one of her friends Josie had had a brief fling with Andrew. Once Josie had become too much of a handful for him - which hadn't taken long, given her proclivities - she had 'thrown him over Gina's fence,' as she liked to describe it.

It had worked for now, although at the moment Andrew was off on a lecture tour of the Middle- and Far-east. They had agreed to not be exclusive - Gina could never be exclusive - and while Andrew did not know about her escort work, neither of them minded the other seeing anyone else. Being sexually adventurous, Gina had hoped they may do some of those things together but Andrew would not go that far.

The one downside of her relationship with Andrew was his daughter, Bethany. The first time Gina had laid eyes on her, she felt urges a forty-one year old woman maybe should not have for a girl half her age. They sat in a pub garden, the young girl sulky, miserable and monosyllabic in a horrible heavy metal t-shirt, disgusting sawn off jeans and Doc Marten boots. She puffed nervously on some strange brown cigarettes and drank cider as if prohibition was going to be introduced in the near future.

Despite her appearance and demeanour, Gina had the raging hots for her, and every time they met thereafter she could barely take her eyes off the girl. She was stunning, with a small oval face, a cute little nose and huge brown eyes. Her long auburn hair fell almost to her waist. Many a night, Gina thought of how Jen and Mel could transform this beautiful girl into something utterly ravishing. Bethany was a girl in a million. She just didn't know it. She hadn't a clue. Gina had seldom seen anyone so less self-aware.

Why she had agreed to take her in whilst Andrew was on his lecture tour was something she was asking herself on a daily basis at the moment. The girl was going to be homeless during her University break as her student accommodation was being refurbished. She knew deep down of course. If she was honest - which she invariably was - she would admit that she had invited Bethany to stay with her in the hope that - not to put too fine a point on it - she could fuck her senseless in the absence of her father.

She had tried - a crude attempt by her own standards, letting the girl see her naked as she came out of the shower. For a moment she had been hopeful - there seemed to be a definite frisson there as Bethany caught and returned her carefully stage-managed dropped towel. But the girl froze and the moment was lost. Gina was a sexual predator but she would never force herself on anyone. Well, she would, but maybe even she would draw the line at the twenty-one year old daughter of her current boyfriend.

The way things had gone since the shower incident, there was no chance of anything happening. In fact things were deteriorating further, if that were possible, and Bethany was more sulky and miserable than she had ever been. Even worse, despite her promising not to, Gina knew she had been smoking in the house and that was completely anathema to her. She'd had to speak to her only that morning and received a foul-mouthed tirade for her troubles.

No, it had been a huge mistake and she was regretting it already; counting off the days until Andrew returned and Bethany buggered off back to college in the north of England. Even that wasn't far enough away for Gina.

But any thoughts of sulky, sultry, infuriating Bethany were put on hold as she swanned into the foyer of the Albermarle as if she owned the damned place and joined Mel and Jen in the hotel bar for a nice little pre-prandial snifter. What the hell, they all worked bloody hard for their success and deserved some time together.

After their drinks the women had taken their seats at their usual table in the restaurant by the window, presided over by the handsome Maitre'd Gerard, his suave manner and French accent giving them all goose-bumps. Mel had admitted to having some vibrator fantasies involving Gerard, and Gina had to admit that she would love to see his mane of blonde hair flowing as he gave her his best.

The food was as good as ever - they rarely went anywhere else, being well known there and enjoying the fuss that was made of them by all and sundry. They had been so engrossed in their chatting, eating and drinking that no-one had really taken in what was going on around them. It would be the usual crowd - older couples out for a nice quiet lunch, businessmen on corporate accounts, people seeking something a little more genteel than the brash pleasures of Brighton, further down the line.

The waitress was clearing away their main courses, or what little was left of them, when Jen suddenly sat up very straight in her chair. She drew the other two women towards her and in a stage whisper, her mouth hidden by her hand, said, "Wow, look at that specimen!"

The other two heads turned to follow Jen's gaze into a far corner of the room, and their mouths fell open as they gazed upon a very attractive African American gentleman dining with an older colleague. He looked to be in his late thirties, with a shining, shaven head, a goatee beard and a chest that seemed to bursting out of his dark blue polo shirt. He smiled at something his colleague said, revealing perfect white teeth and three women of a certain age in an upmarket hotel in the south of England felt their hearts turn somersaults.

Gina was closest, and as she gazed at him with longing, he looked up from his dessert plate and his eyes met hers. Something grabbed at her between the legs and she realised with horror that it was her own hand. She prayed no-one had seen her involuntary action beneath the table as their eyes burned into each other's.

It was a case of who blinks first and luckily for Gina, the man's colleague eventually said something that distracted him, otherwise she was sure they'd still be lost in each other as the restaurant closed for the evening.

"Fuck me!" whispered Mel.

"No, me... please!" replied Jen, plaintively adding, "But as usual it's Harcourt that gets the meaningful stare."

Gina shrugged, for once in her life feeling a little disoriented. "Sorry girls, you've just got it or you haven't!"

"Yes well some of us have husbands Gina dear. So even if we were so lucky we'd have to turn him down out of pure faithfulness." As she glanced furtively across the room once more, the look on Mel's face gave further credence to the fact that her words hadn't quite rung true to the other women.

"Fuck that," said Jen. "I'd jump his bones any day. God, I'd push Denzel Washington out of the way to get to him."

Laughing, they were distracted by the waitress bringing their desserts. There was a bit of a mix-up in the ordering and by the time she had gone, and Gina got the chance to look across the room again the table was empty. She could feel the disappointment flood over her.

Jen sighed. "Bum, bugger, damn. He was going have me up the arse bent over the front of that Mercedes that has just pulled up outside, with a crowd of hundreds cheering him on whilst I sang the Star Spangled Banner in a light soprano."

Mel and Gina collapsed into hysterics. Gina just wished both of them would act on their fantasies instead of getting off vicariously on hers.

They began to demolish their desserts, the black Adonis from the corner of the room briefly forgotten. At last, they drained the remainder of the wine, paid the bill and got up to leave. Jen and Mel had work to do, so were more restrained than usual. Gina was heading back to her lovely home on the northern edge of town, praying that the sulky brat was in her room, encased in her headphones listening to the collective sounds of road drills, fingernails down a chalkboard and animals being tortured that she called 'Death Metal'. Gina hadn't dared tell Bethany she was a fan of Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. The stuff she listened to, the girl probably thought they were soft-rock.

As the women moved into the foyer, Mel glanced into the bar. She stopped dead in her tracks and nudged Gina in the ribs, nodding towards the other room. Gina's heart lifted as she saw the two guys from the restaurant table standing up and shaking hands. The American was huge - way over six feet. His hand engulfed the other man and he was not small. She marvelled at the size of his chest and tried to imagine what lay beneath those Chinos he filled so well.

Gina was a rugby addict and knew her sport. If this man hadn't played American Football, she wasn't born Sandra Higginbottom. The older guy came out into the lobby and headed for the exit. The American sat down by himself nursing a drink, tapping at something on his phone. Whether or not he was aware of three sets of military-grade laser stares burning holes into him, he looked up from his phone, and locked onto Gina's slightly more powerful beam for a second time. He smiled, raised his glass and nodded to the now empty seat opposite him.

Jen gave Gina a push in the back. "Go get him, Tiger! Next week, we want the whole dirty story."

Oh they got a dirty story all right, and it took most of lunch to tell it.

Chapter Two

Michael Anderson was thirty seven years old and recently divorced. It hadn't been traumatic or messy - just inevitable. A slow decline that when it ended it was a blessing for he and Nicole alike. She got custody and Mike got visiting rights. It was probably for the best given his travelling with work, but hell he missed that silly old dog more than he ever imagined. The last time he had gone over to see him, old Shep had just about licked him to death. Then Nicole had followed suit. Strange how the sex seemed to be better now they had separated.

His travelling gave him a few opportunities to keep his hand in, but recently things were a little quiet and Mike was getting a little restless. He would be back up in London for a few days from tomorrow, so maybe that little secretary Tiffany that kept giving him the eye would get an invite to a cosy London pub.

If he could understand her, of course. With her broad Cockney accent and the speed at which she spoke, he was barely able to understand a word. Still, if she shagged as fast as she talked, she'd be a goer alright. He had caught a few minutes of that awful soap opera the Brits loved so much - East Enders - and he'd half expected her to walk into that tatty old pub they were always in and start babbling on in her incomprehensible accent. He had hardly been able to bear the few minutes he watched before he switched over to something else. And the guys in the office said this thing had been going for decades!

At first he had hated coming to London, but had gradually got used to it and was becoming something of an Anglophile. Then, just as he was settling in to the capital, they decided he should start to visit clients in a small town somewhere between London and the south coast. When he first looked on the map, he thought, "Why there?" but as with London he had come to like the quaint little town and was beginning to feel at home there the more he visited.

It was much nicer than small-town America where endless strip-malls always seem to lead to an older grid-system centre. Amberdown was an appealing tangle of lanes, streets and alleyways leading to lovely little pubs, churches, hidden squares and parks. He was always finding something new as he wandered in the evenings, and he had been delighted to find that they even had a passable attempt at an American-style diner. Route 66 did very good hickory smoked ribs, and whilst Mike was starting to get a taste for English ale, he had been beside himself to find that they did his beloved Samuel Adams on draught.

A native Bostonian, he missed the old town a lot when he was away, but at least during the season, these Brits were enlightened enough to televise baseball and he had whiled away many an evening watching an early game Stateside with a bottle of Sam's or a can of Bud to keep him company. He had tried watching cricket, but it was like watching paint dry. Hell, they could play for days and still not get a result and now they had this new crazy quick version, like trying to play baseball over three innings. 'And don't get me started on rugby', he thought. Madmen crashing into each other with little or no padding. Made his bad shoulder ache every time he saw it. Strange people these Brits.

At that very moment, Mike was wishing he was in Route 66 finishing off some ribs and a pint of Sam's rather than being sat opposite Charles Heddon in the slightly stuffy and formal dining room of the Albermarle Hotel. The hotel was ok, a little faded and rough around the edges, but the rooms were comfortable and served him well when he was in town.

What was the term one of his colleagues had used about Charles? An 'Old Duffer', that was it. He didn't really understand what it meant, but it seemed to suit Charles. He looked he like he should be making a cameo appearance in Friends or Frasier as the token Englishman. All clichés - Oxbridge accent, bow tie, calling everyone 'old boy', faded tweed jacket with leather-patched elbows.

Charles was poking ponderously at an iPad mini as they finished their meals, burbling on about proposals, unaware or unwilling to admit that Mike's shutters had come down halfway through his admittedly delicious liver and bacon. Mike was making all the right noises in all the right places; years of practice at shutting someone out and making them think they still had his undivided attention.

He gazed around the room and saw the usual suspects. A few old couples gently scraping at plates, a typical loudmouth who was too engrossed in himself to realise the poor girl he was trying to impress was squirming in her seat.

"Asshole," Mike thought as he fixed his eye on something much more interesting over by the window. How had he not noticed the table of three women before? They were in animated conversation, laughing and gesticulating wildly and having a rare old time.

It was the blonde that caught his eye. Well, one of the blondes anyway. She was utterly gorgeous, with a mane of shaggy blonde hair and a lovely wide face and generous looking mouth. When she laughed, she showed perfect white teeth and her eyes sparkled. Mike began to stir. 'What a babe,' he thought, as he mechanically replied to Charles's latest remark.

The woman sitting next to her was pretty as well, a little older; tiny and cat-like. He couldn't get a decent view of the third woman who was backing on to him, but there was a nice shining mop of platinum blonde hair falling to the shoulders of an elegantly cut powder blue jacket.

He took one more longing glance at blonde number one and tried to concentrate on Charles's summing up.

"Well, old thing, I'll call for the bill - or the check as you Yankees call it; isn't that right?"

Mike squirmed as the girl had done as he grunted out a little laugh. The waitress came over, trying not to look too hard at his athletic body and handsome face. If Mike had known what she was thinking, even he may have blushed.

As Charles handed the girl his credit card, Mike felt a prickle down his neck and was sure he was being watched. He looked back at the table of three, and the dark haired woman and blonde number one were looking at him, giggling to each other. His heart leapt. Oh my, how he'd love to take that blonde upstairs for the rest of the day.