For our tenth anniversary my husband gave me a surprise. On arrival home early from work one day when I wasn't feeling well, I was surprised to see his car in our drive. I crept inside and made my way silently upstairs. Peering in through the bedroom door, I saw him, lying naked on our bed, being ridden by one of my best friends. It might have been childish, but I got a sense of satisfaction with the look on their faces when I burst in, and soaked them with a bucket of ice cold water I had got from downstairs.
I told them both to "go away", using most of the Anglo-Saxon swear words I had learnt during the past couple of decades. To be fair to them, they did, leaving me in a mid-life crisis of confidence about my self-worth. My self pity didn't last long. I was an attractive woman, with a couple of extra pounds round my waist which I could easily lose. My job was crap – I was working in a beauty salon doing the nails, massages, facial, waxing whilst the lazy owner took most of the money for hair styling.
I decided on a complete change to my life and left my job immediately. I decided to set up myself. I had a large back bedroom, which we had been using as a study cum spare bedroom cum storeroom. I decided I could afford to put a wooden floor in the room, buy a treatment bed, sun lamps, and all the other paraphernalia that goes with the beauty business.
My last day at the salon was a Friday – followed by a night out to celebrate. A Chinese meal with all my mates from the salon and some of the better customers, followed by a night of drinking and debauchery.
One of my friends spoke to me during the evening before I got too drunk.
"So when are you going to get back in the saddle?"
Another relationship hadn't really occurred to me. I was so shocked by my husband's infidelity with a good friend that I hadn't really thought about it too much. However, her question set me thinking that I did miss close physical contact and that I wanted some......NOW.
The morning dawned and I awoke ...in an empty bed. I'm not sure I would have been much good in the state I was in during the evening and my hangover was in need of some strong coffee and equally strong pain relief.
I went to fetch the milk from the door step. One of my neighbours was passing and waved at me.
"Hi!" she said. "How are you?"
We started chatting and I invited her in to share my hangover, coffee and my woes (It's surprising how therapeutic this is as you get someone sympathising with your suffering, no matter how sincere it all is).
Anyway, I told her all about my marital woes, my career woes and what I planned to do. She was very supportive and gave me a load of ideas about my business. We went upstairs and I showed her the ramshackle bedroom I hoped to turn into my own salon. It was full of clutter – most of it would make its next appearance at our local tip.
I said I didn't know how I was going to shift all the crap, when she turned and looked at me.
"I'll send Robbie round!!"
I obviously looked bemused. She explained that her son, Robbie was 18, had just finished his "A" levels and was hanging around waiting to see if he had made a university place. She said he was at a loose end and would be happy to help me move the furniture.
I wasn't so sure. I vaguely remember the lad. From what I remember, he was a somewhat weakly, uninspiring callow youth who I had perhaps last seen three years ago. I also wasn't sure that an 18 year old would appreciate being asked to use his spare time helping me. Despite my protestations to this effect, she insisted that he would be ideal and offered to send him around as soon as she got home.
It was easier to give in and agree and I waved her goodbye after an hour of her visit.
I decided I had better shower and dress – I was still in my night clothes – baggy t-shirt, panties, and a towelling bath robe. Well that was the plan!
I had got to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and stripped off when the door bell sounded.
"Shit" I said. That always seemed to happen to me. I considered ignoring it, but decided against. I put my robe back on, and given the shortness of it, decided to put back on my panties.
I walked down the stairs and opened the door. The sun was now high and streaming in as the door opened. Before me was 18 year old Robbie. Not quite the 14 year old wimp I had remembered. He stood about 5ft 10", chestnut brown hair, brown eyes and a body which I could have died for. He was dressed in an open necked light blue shirt, and fawn shorts. His legs were strong, and his skin was lightly suntanned. He looked delicious. I stood, open mouthed, looking for the entire world like an idiot.
"My mum said you needed some help" he said.
"Yes" I meekly replied. "Come in."
I asked him again if he minded helping, but he assured me he was glad to help. I felt very exposed in my short robe and I wondered if he had noticed my legs which I always thought were my best bits.
I led the way. He followed, hopefully eyeing my legs from below. I remember, as we made our way to the bedroom, that I was certainly beginning to feel a bit horny and the telltale signs from my body were evident, at least to me!
God, I was old enough to be his mother! What was I thinking?
We made it to the bedroom. The back bedroom! As we surveyed the scene, I pointed out which items were to go. Which were to be stored and which could go to the tip. My car was quite small, so there would need to be some breaking up of the old wardrobe and a large dressing table that I hated. The carpet would also need to go.
