Uncle and nephew spit roast a bird

This is set in the UK in 1981. No internet, no social media, no mobile phones, and reliable information about sex was harder to find. Also, different social attitudes. It is stand-alone but follows on from both Helping Her Boyfriend's Career and It Takes Three (or More) to Tango.

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It was Sunday morning in late March 1981, and Amber was having a bath in her rented cottage, thinking about how lunch at her landlord Gerald's fitted in with her plans to rebuild her life. Amber had been in two serious relationships for all but one month of the last two and a half years. The last six months of her relationship with Donald had been the worst of her life emotionally. The last two months of the end of the relationship with Alastair had not been so bad, but the economic aftermath threatened to be worse. Both had told her that they loved her and might even have believed it. If that was love, then she wanted none of it. One had shown his love by being terrified that she would be unfaithful if he let her out of sight. The other had shown it by borrowing money from her and asking her to do all in her power to persuade Gerald to refer clients to his new firm.

She had gone out with Donald for eighteen months, and they had lived together for nine months. Despite the fact that she had been faithful to him, he had become obsessively jealous and paranoid that she was cheating on him. He had finally beaten her up for having a drink with a friend who made Larry Grayson or John Inman seem aggressively masculine. Luckily, it had happened in the holidays, so no one at school needed to see the bruises and the black eyes. She had left him immediately, moved into a cheap hotel, and kept to herself until she could hide the bruises with makeup and mascara. She was dammed if she was going to be a victim. Besides, his friends would not have wanted to believe that he was capable of beating up a five-foot-four woman and would have been desperate to pretend that she had fallen downstairs or even that she had deserved it. She had kept photographs of her injuries and sent one copy to him and another to a friend who lived two hundred miles away to shame him and to protect herself.

The friend from college, Bianca, had persuaded her older husband to call in a favour with Gerald to get her the cottage. Well, perhaps Bianca had called in the favour herself, but as the poet said, "them that asks no questions isn't told a lie." Gerald was a wealthy accountant in his late forties. He was around five foot eight, cultured, well-dressed and enjoyed the company of women. Gerald was assuredly not a man who felt in need of a wife.

About the same time as she had moved into the cottage, she started going out with Alastair. No point in speculating whether he had meant it when he said he loved her and intended to marry her if he made a success of his career. The end result was the same as if he had been a con man.

When he got his dream job in London, he borrowed her savings of £500 from her, promising to repay £50 per month. He also told her to persuade Gerald to help find him a good flat and refer work to Alastair's new firm. He had stressed that, unlike Donald, he was not a jealous man. The only limits he had placed on her behaviour were not to spend the night or go to bed with Gerald, and he specifically said that he did not care about hand jobs and told her to suck up to the older man. This left plenty of scope for satisfying Gerald's appetites, and she was sure that the omission was deliberate. Indeed, after Gerald had introduced a client to the new firm through Alastair, he had told her to make sure that Gerald knew exactly how grateful they both were to him. Strictly, she had obeyed his instructions, which did not mention sofas, desks, or tables.

It turned out that Alastair had lied about his degree on his CV, had been found out and fired from his dream job, and lacked the testicular fortitude to tell her. It was only after Gerald had agreed to help her find out if there was any reason other than being busy at work she hadn't seen Alastair in six weeks that she found out the truth. She was out £450 of the £500 he had borrowed. Apparently, he had also forged her signature on at least one document, so who knew what other potential liabilities were out there?

Amber was not one to feel sorry for herself for long. She was determined to pick herself up, dust herself down, and start all over again. She looked at the positives in her life first. She enjoyed teaching English at The Scrivener's School and was good at her job. She was in excellent health and knew from experience that the current feelings of anger, self-doubt and shame would pass. Men were attracted to her physically and enjoyed her company even when she was fully clothed.

She needed to rebuild her social life, ensure that she kept the cottage tenancy, repair her financial position, and relearn how to enjoy herself. She did not want anyone to feel sorry for her or think she just wanted a shoulder to cry on.

Amber did not want a serious relationship with anyone for at least a few months, nor did she want to be celibate. She'd ruled out having a sexual relationship with anyone at her school or in her current circle of friends. They would be looking for more emotional involvement than she felt capable of giving.

Frankly, she just wanted to go out and have fun without any complications or drama, preferably without spending money herself. She wanted to be a charity or good-time girl and be treated to dinner and a show. She would then show her appreciation enthusiastically if the man had not taken it for granted, and she wanted to see him again. She wanted evenings when she could forget her troubles.

Getting in contact with the friends she had lost touch with while going out with Donald and Alastair was problematic. Many had settled down, and girlfriends and wives did not appreciate Amber's presence. It was bad enough that she was a five-foot-four busty redhead who was usually full of energy. Bianca described her as a cross between Barbara Windsor in the Carry On films and Felicity Kendall in The Good Life, meaning she'd never had problems finding men who wanted to get to know her well. It didn't help that she had had an active sex life at college. An Amber on the rebound saying that she wanted sex but not love was too great a temptation for red-blooded men for her female friends to risk placing in front of their boyfriends or husbands, let alone expect the girlfriends and wives of her male friends to be happy about them renewing the friendship.

The financial issues were a worry, but it was not a problem she could sort out this weekend. She would eventually need Gerald's help and advice, but asking for money would mean that she would cross a line. She was a charity girl and not a prostitute. She was uncomfortably aware that the line could be a thin one, but it was real to her.

She'd read a book at 16 about a group of five young women in 1920s New York without much money and not much chance of making it. Still, shopgirls and typists want to enjoy themselves in the evenings, and in practice, this meant being treated to meals and taken out by men. It was understood that in return for the man paying for the night out, the girl would be grateful, at least if she wanted to be asked out again. The more grateful a Charity Girl was known to be, the more often and lavishly she was likely to be treated by men. The women and most men did not regard this as prostitution because no money exchanged hands.

The image had stuck with her, and during holiday jobs at college, she had been happy to be treated to an evening out by men she liked enough to spend time with. If she enjoyed the evening out and did not mind doing so again, she had allowed them to snog her and play with her tits. More might happen on future dates, and she might receive gifts of clothes and jewellery. She certainly received larger tips, but she told herself they were for the services she provided in the restaurants, bars, and hotels she worked in.

First, she needed to ensure that Gerald was happy to continue the tenancy. It had been one thing when she had been going out with Alastair for Gerald to have some fun with her occasionally. She had needed to convince him that she would not cause problems with his other lovers. They would need to agree on terms which suited both of them for the sexual side of the relationship. Say once a month, he could take her out to the theatre, give her dinner and then have uninhibited and kinky sex with her.

Because she would have very little money in her account at the end of each month after lending her savings to Alastair, Gerald had offered in January to allow her to pay the rent monthly rather than weekly (and now that she thought about it, he had, in effect, reduced the yearly rent by 1/13 by the way he had calculated the change). She had been grateful for this and, as it fitted in with Alastair's instructions to suck up to Gerald, had shown this by kneeling in front of Gerald every fortnightly when he came round for tea. He had said that she had given him his best-ever blowjobs. She had heard this before, but at least he did not spoil the compliment by suggesting that she do it professionally.

He had come to see her yesterday evening, and she had decided to send him the signal that she just wanted to have fun and not be comforted or made love to. Anyway, she owed him a favour for discovering why Alastair had disappeared from her life and ending her uncertainty. She had worn a basque, fishnet stockings, and French knickers.

She had heard the knock at the door and looked at herself in the mirror. Okay, definitely more Carry On Teaching or Confessions of a Schoolteacher than a sitcom.

"Oh, do come in, Gerald. Can I get you a G&T? Make yourself at home in the sitting room - after all, it is yours."

"That sounds excellent, my dear. You are even more beautiful than usual."

He sat on the sofa and took off his jacket and tie as she went out to the kitchen. When she returned, she gave him the drink and sat beside him.

"Gerald, I don't want to talk about Alastair. I don't want a new boyfriend or to find a husband. The most enjoyable time I've had since I started going out with him was the trip to Stratford with you, including when we got back here. I want to go to films or plays, be wined and dined, flirted with, have interesting conversations, and then have joyful sex, which means nothing beyond the fact that it's good to be alive and the evening has been fun. I want to enjoy myself with different men who want to have sex with me and want me to enjoy myself but are not in love with me. Above all, I don't want a man who wants to own me or change me or borrow money from me."

"My dear, I will be happy to help you enjoy life, but.."

She put a finger on his lips.

"Look, I know you just want a bit of fun every so often. You've escaped matrimony for nearly fifty years, and you're not going to change now, especially for a charity girl who dropped her knickers to persuade you to help a total shit. Hell, you even told me not to trust him. I won't become a nuisance to you."

"I'm glad you understand my position. You are being too hard on yourself, though."

She finished her drink and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around him. "I haven't had satisfying sex since you last fucked me. I need a randy man between my legs to feel alive again. Would you like to volunteer?"

He kissed her, picked her up, carried her behind the sofa, bent her over it, pulled down her knickers and spread her legs. He said, "I am delighted to volunteer to re-awaken your desire for life." She heard him remove his clothes, and then he inserted a finger into her vagina and started stimulating her.

She was relieved to find out that he had wanted the same as her and had even put the Durex on before coming around to see her. Even better, he had no intention of pitying her but was out to use her in a way which suited her mood. He had squeezed her tits, spanked her, and fucked her as hard as she wanted him to. She had needed it and had howled with pleasure. It had got rid of most of her anger and relieved an itch.

They then cleared the air. Gerald said he would be glad to take her out to the theatre and for meals and to have enjoyable sex with her regularly, but he was not interested in a serious relationship, and he did not want his other regular companions to know that Amber was one of them. Not only did he not have a problem with her seeing other men, but it was also his preference. He said that he was happy for her to remain his tenant on that basis. She said she would be pleased if he felt like dropping around once a week for a chat to see how she was doing -- both of them understood that she would be kneeling for part of the visit.

He had then invited her to have a late Sunday lunch with him and his nephew John. Gerald had explained to her that John was 21 and in his last year at Oxford. Gerald's sister had asked Gerald to put John up for three weeks during the holidays to allow him to revise for his finals in a stress-free environment and get over the breakup of his first long-term relationship. Gerald had agreed, but as the tax year was almost at an end, things were very busy at work, and he was concerned that he might not be able to spend as much time as he wanted to with John.

He had asked Amber to keep John company two or three evenings a week when Gerald was working late or entertaining clients. The exact phrase was that he would like her to spend time with the nephew and help keep his pecker up. Gerald would pay for John to take her out for meals at excellent restaurants in the neighbourhood as well as waive the next four weeks' rent if she agreed. This was on the basis that it was a favour in return for her favour in agreeing to spend time with John.

She took the hint that he hoped she would be willing to show John the same good time at the end of the evening out as she would have shown Gerald. It was not, however, a condition of the rent waiver. It was a sign of how life was going for her that she actually found the idea appealing in principle, provided she enjoyed John's company. That was another difference between a charity girl and a prostitute.

Anyway, she was now thinking about what to wear to the Sunday lunch. She wanted to be smart and sexually attractive but didn't want to look like a schoolmistress or a tart. She decided that it was a day for a dress or skirt, not trousers.

In the end, she settled for the long black denim front buttoning dress. With all twelve buttons fastened, it covered from her neck to just below her knees. Seven buttons were above the belt and five below.

The more buttons undone up top, the more cleavage would appear. She would start with two undone up top. She could undo a few more if appropriate. Three would give a glimpse of cleavage, and five would reveal that she was wearing her Gossard Wonderbra. That had been a present from Gerald after the last time she had kneeled in front of him.

She would start with two buttons undone at the bottom of the dress. Oddly men seemed to be turned on more by glimpsing her stockings through a slit in a long dress than by seeing them clearly when she wore a short dress. Imagination was often better than reality.

A pair of over-the-knee black boots and a pair of thigh-highs would help encourage investigation of her legs where a pair of silk French knickers was waiting to be discovered.

She wondered what the nephew was like. In her experience, many Oxford scholarship boys were nervous intellectuals and still slightly scared of women. If he were, the danger would be that he would fall in love with her or be scared of her. This would not suit Gerald or her. On the other hand, as Gerald had hinted, he might be a younger version of his uncle. That would deal with the scared concern, but she would need to be careful about not distracting him from his studies too much or, indeed, him falling in love with her. Well, she'd play it by ear this afternoon. She had one potential solution but would have to see whether it was appropriate.

She had then put calls into Bianca to check about the party celebrating the engagement of Bianca's younger sister next weekend. She mentioned that Gerald had his nephew staying and received some interesting information.

She then called Dom and Pete, who would also be going to the party next week and passed on some of the information. She also checked to see whether they would be free in two weekends' time as she thought it might be suitable for her friend Jill to get to know them. She knew them from the month between Donald and Alastair. She had met them at a Dudley nightclub and had a couple of threesomes with them. It had been amongst her most enjoyable experiences because the two men took pride in satisfying the women they had sex with and believed in foreplay. An interesting question of etiquette would arise if she ever met anyone else wearing the T-shirt proclaiming "I'm a DP Girl" they insisted on presenting to those whom they had spit roasted.

There was another call to Bianca to pass on a suggestion from Dom and Pete for the party. She concurred.

Finally, it was time to join Gerald and John for lunch. She checked her make-up and hair and tightened the belt to accentuate her figure. She entered through the garden gate, which Gerald had left unlocked.

She could hear someone playing Bridge Over Troubled Water on the piano in the music room as she walked down. If it was the nephew, he was rather good.

She must have been seen as the music stopped, and a tall young man came out of the French windows. He looked like he had stepped out of a muscular version of Brideshead Revisited. Over six foot and built like a rugby player who didn't overdo the beer. Perhaps someone else she should introduce to Jill. Certainly, she would not mind riding him if his character matched the appearance.

He smiled at her and said, "Amber. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm John. Uncle Gerald is busy in the kitchen. Come and say hello to him after I've mixed you a drink. Would you like a sherry or a G&T?"

"A G&T, please. Make it a large, stiff one." Down girl, she may be up for it, but it was possible to come over as too eager.

"I'll be happy to oblige you in any way I can." So, he was up for flirty double entendres as well. No need to worry about whether he was interested in her or was shy.

He prepared two G&Ts in the sitting room and said, "I gather Uncle Gerald has asked you to keep me company while he's busy earning a living."

"Well, I agree with him that balancing work and pleasure is good. Certainly, I always found it helped me to mix some fun with revision. My problem was perhaps getting enough revision in the mix."

He laughed, "Anything which can help him reassure my mother that I'm not having a nervous breakdown or feeling suicidal after my break-up is much appreciated. Considering the short notice, I'm pleased he found someone so charming."

"It'll be a pleasure. I'm looking forward to the restaurants and the company."

He then ushered her towards the kitchen with a hand on the small of her back. Gerald, it turned out, already had a sherry in his hand and was busy in the large kitchen. Seeing Gerald with an apron on was odd, but he did look like he had things under control. She spotted two or three cookbooks which were bookmarked. He seemed to be a fan of someone called Elizabeth David.

She truthfully said, "Gerald, this smells amazing. I'm amazed you bother going to restaurants."

"I enjoy cooking, but it would be too much like work to do it for myself every day. It's good to have you two to justify and appreciate the effort, especially when you have to worry about driving home. There are a couple of experiments today."