This follows on from Massaged by Jerome's Expert Hands but it is not important to read that one first. Suffice it to say, three divorced ladies had discovered a masseur who did extras and they meet up regularly to discuss everything and nothing.
The Saturday following the massage with Jerome, I had to go to Carlisle, and it was some weeks before I could meet up with the girls in the pub as usual.
"Hey Jen, great to see you. Missed you recently," said Lucy.
"Ah yes, had to go to a meeting last week, unfortunately."
"Oh yea?" said Wendy knowingly.
"No really. It was a symposium in Carlisle and mostly women at that."
I sat down, ordered myself a glass of Sauvignon blanc and we did a bit of catching up. As usually happens, the conversation got a little more risqué after the second glass.
"So no action up north then?" Enquired Wendy.
"After Jerome's magic hands I wasn't feeling hard done by."
"So you went then, brilliant isn't he?" said Lucy, "but, let's face it, it's not just his hands that are magic!"
"Whatever can you mean?" said Wendy.
"OK, OK, I get it. It's shame Lucy night. Well I have to confess, as I expect you two do as well, that his pubic hair is quite a knock out."
"What pubic hair?" Chimed in Wendy who was well into her third glass by now.
"Got you! Got you! How did you know that he hasn't got any if you just stopped at the massage?" Lucy chuckled with delight at her own cunning.
"Come on girls," I said, "let's not go all prissy missy. We are a group of unattached adult females, so what's wrong with a no strings attached shag? Actually Carlisle wasn't quite as dull as I made out."
I got knowing looks from the other two as if to say, come on then, don't stop there.
"You want the details?" Said my mouth.
"Of course we want the fucking details." Wendy's voice was starting to slur. "Blow by fucking blow, so that I've got some material for Mr Magic Rabbit later."
"Well, we were staying at Dalston Hall and after the....."
"Hold on a cotton picking moment," Lucy chimed in, "who's we exactly?"
"Just the three of us girls from Ops, no one exciting and certainly no men."
"Oh sorry. Continue I prithee." Wendy's speech always gets a bit shakespearean if she has a third glass.
"Well, after this really boring presentation on something like Task Management Prioritisation..."
"What the fuck is that?" Wendy again.
"Look it doesn't really matter. Doest thou want to hear my tale?" I thought I'd play her at her own game.
"A thousand pardons madam. Pray continue your discourse, but get to the juicy bits."
"We were in the bar, had a good few drinks and a game of Brag. Eventually the other two decided to call it a night and left me on my own, still with half a G&T, when a voice from behind said. 'Do you play a lot of poker?' I looked round and saw the owner of the voice. What a dish!
"About six feet tall, a mop of almost jet black hair, slightly swarthy, low slung denims and a crisp white shirt, cuffs turned up to the first fold, a cross between Christian Grey and a caricature gigolo.
"So I said, 'only when there's nothing better to do.' He pulled up a chair without any invitation whatsoever, and plomped himself down beside me. I thought, bloody cheek, but why not let him think he's pulling. So I said, 'Is that your best pick up line for an older woman?'"
"You didn't!" Exclaimed an incredulous Wendy.
"I jolly well did. Why not let him think he's getting somewhere if he wants to? I can let him down gently later.
"Before I knew it another G & T appeared, as if by magic, on the table beside me.
'Not my best,' he agreed 'but all I could think of in such an emergency.'
'What was the emergency?' I asked, playing along.
'Your friends had just left and I thought you might leave too, as soon as you finished your drink.'
So I said I didn't think it was much of an emergency.
'Certainly it was. Or We wouldn't be having this conversation now.' 'You mean your attempted pick up?'"
"Jen!"
"'Well do you blame me?' He added, 'a good looking woman, all on her own and I've got no one to talk to.'
'So you admit it, it's a pick up! You don't know anything about me.' 'I know more than you think.'
'Such as?'
'You are a successful business woman, with an eye for fashion, and divorced.'
'How do you work that out?'
'Well, you clearly controlled your two colleagues, and there is a symposium on at the hotel, so I figured you are one of the head honchos.'
"I was intrigued as to where this was going so I led him on a bit.
'What about the fashion thing?'
'Dead easy, your shoes. They just scream expensive.'
'Ok, and divorced?'
'Just as easy. No ring, but still a trace of a white band there.'
'So you thought to yourself, here's a middle aged divorced woman, in a hotel on her own, probably gagging for it?'"
"Jen! What an expression."
"'No, not at all.' He said, 'Just thought we might enjoy each other's company for a while.'
'Lying bastard! Your dick brought you over here? OK my go!'
'Go for it!'
'You go for older women, probably because you think they will be an easy lay, or in other words, go easy early. You wear your trousers too tight, probably thinking you're advertising. By the way you know you are only supposed to keep a tourniquet on for 20 mins or the blood stops flowing. And oh yes, you are circumcised.'
'What?'
'You have had a birthday recently and are circumcised, obviously.'
'How do you work that out?'
"'Confirm or deny, first.'
'True, but how do you know?'
'My little secret, might tell you later.'"
Lucy interrupted, "So was it just a guess? I mean how could you know? Surely his trousers weren't that tight!"
"Educated guess," I said, "he was wearing a star of David pendant."
"And the birthday thing?"
"Signet ring with the Aries Ram on it."
"Nice one Sherlock!"
