Memoirs of a Swinger Ep. 40

This is the fortieth episode of my unreliable memoirs recounting sexual encounters in the nineteen eighties. Each episode is self-contained, so you can read them without having read the previous ones.

This is the first of a few tales set in America. In this one Steven and Lesley take a vacation, which leads to unexpected opportunities

I hope you enjoy the tale.

M4bloke

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Colorado Bound

By the time June came around, things were hotting up with Iris and there was definite interest in the battlefield communications system from a number of European countries. Demonstrations had gone well but what I hadn't realised was just how long the decision-making processes could take. I guess it shouldn't have been a surprise. Taxpayer money was at stake after all, but it was very frustrating from a personal point of view.

We were having less success selling Iris to the Americans however. They'd been keen to see the technology demonstrated, but it seemed this was more out of competitive curiosity than any real intent to purchase. I talked to Sir Hillary at Blackfinch about it and he confirmed that the US and Europe viewed each other suspiciously when it came to purchasing the other's military technology.

The Obermann consultancy was going from strength to strength however. So much so that we were asked us to increase the size of our Munich based team. This took some of the pressure off Uwe but also changed his role to one where he was now responsible for people. Uwe had gone from talented drifter, picking up jobs here and there, to being responsible for a team of consultants in the space of a little over six months and had really proved his value. I don't know if he'd have done this if it hadn't been for Suzy. She'd made him want to settle down and make a life with her. I felt sorry for them that they were bound by the terms of his inheritance, but at least everything looked like it was going in the right direction.

My new hire, Tom Pemberton, son of one of the other Durolitum directors, Charles, was also finding his feet on the New Investments side of Durolitum. As I began to spend more time with Tom, developing some business prospects I realised how much of a benefit his experience was going to be to us. But also, Tom could ask his dad for help more easily than anyone else could have and Charles was keen to see his son succeed.

On the down-side, I hardly ever saw Sam at work now. He was only working for me two days a week and, to be honest, I missed him being around. Lesley and I spent a weekend with him and Carly in early June, helping out at the comic book store and Sam and I managed to slip away on the Saturday lunchtime for a pint, leaving the girls to run the store. It was then that Sam told me that he was planning to relocate the store to a more mainstream location. I was surprised. He and Carly were breaking even, but the store wasn't exactly a roaring success.

Sam explained that he'd found a shop just off Covent Garden. It was in a much busier area than his current location. But the lease was significantly more expensive, added to which it was going to cost a fortune to refurbish. Sam's logic was that they could attract a more mainstream customer base from there and I could see that but it was a risk and as far as I knew Sam hadn't got the funds to cover it.

"I've saved a bit from the consulting work and I'm trying to get a business loan from the bank for the rest," he told me.

"What does Carly think?" I asked.

"She's worried," Sam conceded. "But she's told me that if I want to do it then I should."

"Why don't you come and work for Durolitum full time," I suggested. "Build up some funds first. Then in a year's time you won't have to risk everything."

"It would take too long," Sam explained. "I'll never get another shop in such a great location."

"How much do you need?"

"Forty thousand, I reckon."

I hadn't realised Sam would need so much, but I guess the outgoings on a shop in Covent Garden were quite high.

"Well, if it's what you want then I wish you the best of luck. If there's anything Lesley and I can do then you only need to ask, you know that."

"Thanks."

Lesley was having her own problems at work. Her employers were trying to change her holiday plans, insisting that she took her summer holiday all in one go, rather than split between June and August. Ultimately there was nothing they could do this year. Lesley had followed company procedures to the letter, but it didn't bode well for future years. I could see that she wasn't enjoying the job as much as she'd done in the past. There were talks of restructuring and redundancies and, while we didn't rely on Lesly's salary to fund our lifestyle, it was unsettling for her and for her staff.

It would have taken a great deal however to have stopped Lesley from visiting Paul and Astrid Walmsley in Colorado that June. To say that she'd been waiting all year for it wouldn't have been overstating it. Since meeting them in New York with Daniel the previous year, Lesley had been so excited about the prospect of seeing them again.

Astrid had been a successful model in the seventies, while Paul was a friend of Daniel's and CEO of a large US based investment bank. From what Lesley had told me, she and Astrid had had the briefest of flings one morning while Paul and Daniel had gone out for breakfast. That and a meal in a restaurant the night before seemed to be the basis for her friendship with the Walmsleys. It didn't seem like much to me and not really sufficient to justify spending a week with them at their ranch, but Lesley had been adamant and to be fair it seemed that Astrid had been keen too. What Paul Walmsley thought, I had no idea.

Partly because of my uncertainties over the extent of the Walmsley's hospitality and partly because it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss, I suggested to Lesley that we hired a motorcycle in order to see some of the Rockies at the same time.

It was a great idea in one sense, because biking was something we both enjoyed, but sometimes a car makes a much better proposition. Especially if you have luggage. The result was, that June, we boarded a plane to Denver carrying only one small bag of hand luggage each.

Our flight left from Heathrow at midday on a Wednesday. I'd saved enough frequent flyer miles to get an upgrade to business class for myself and I paid for Lesley's business class ticket. When she'd gone to New York with Daniel they'd flown first class on Concorde. I couldn't compete with that, but fortunately I knew I didn't have to. We'd both have been just as happy in economy, so long as we were together.

As it happened, we were in for a surprise. Just before the flight boarded we were called to the departure gate.

"The flight is overbooked Mr. Carter..." the flight attendant informed me.

My heart sank. Surely they weren't going to bounce us off the flight just because I'd used frequent flyer miles to get an upgrade.

"... So, to free up seats in business class we'd like to offer you and your wife an upgrade to first-class."

Lesley squeezed my hand tightly.

"Thank you very much," she said on our behalf.

I can only assume that, having made quite a few trips to Germany now, I must have appeared on the airline's frequent traveller list. If they were trying to make sure that I used them in future then I have to say, it worked.

I'd never travelled first class. In fact, the only flights I'd made had been short-haul, where there hadn't really been a first class anyway. The Boeing 747 was huge compared to the planes I'd flown on before and the cabin far plusher than anything I'd previously been used to. During the ten-hour flight, Lesley and I drank the complimentary champagne and ate the superb food we were presented with. It was nice to have ten hours to ourselves and looking back I can't believe how much we talked. Most of the topics were of Lesley's choosing but I was happy just to listen and offer opinions when required.

The flight was direct and, when we landed, it was late afternoon in Denver. It took a while to clear passport control, but with only hand luggage we were soon through customs. The motorcycle rental company said they'd pick us up from the airport and a young guy sporting a ponytail stood in 'Arrivals' with our names scrawled on a piece of cardboard.

"Welcome to Denver," he said when we introduced ourselves to him. "I'm Mike."

Mike drove us in a minivan to one of the Harley Davidson dealerships in Denver where, after filling out some paperwork we picked up our bike. It wasn't dissimilar to my own Harley back in London and it felt reassuringly familiar. We'd also arranged to buy two open face helmets from the dealership. We only had full face helmets back home and because of the exchange rate at the time, helmets were much cheaper to buy in the USA than they were in the UK.

You didn't need to wear a helmet at all in Colorado but neither of us fancied risking it. Some of the helmets in the store seemed to be little more than coconut shells in any case but we both opted for an open face, three quarter helmet that looked as if it might offer some protection if you fell off. Of course, we'd forgotten that you'd need to wear glasses with an open face helmet so we then had to buy some of those too.

Riding a bike in America isn't so different from riding one in France and so it was easy to adjust to being on the 'wrong' side of the road. The problem came when we tried to find our hotel. We'd booked in at the Marriott in the Downtown region and to be honest I lost count of the number of times we had to stop and look at the map. When you don't know where you're going it's so much more difficult to navigate on a bike than in a car.

It was almost seven in the evening by the time we found the hotel. We stabled our steel horse for the night and checked in. We were both tired but decided to fight it and adjust to Mountain Standard Time. We went out for a quick pizza, had a beer in our room then fell asleep around ten.

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In the morning, we could see the Rocky Mountains in the distance from our hotel room. I couldn't wait to get out on the bike but Lesley had other ideas

"We're on holiday," she told me. "So, you need to make love to your wife first."

I took a moment to admire her lying on the bed. When we'd met, I'd been attracted to her slender figure, delicate skin and stunning red hair. Two years later, after an almost daily regime of running and calisthenics, Lesley looked even better now than she had then.

"How did I get to be so lucky?" I asked her.

Lesley looked at me and realised I was being serious.

"I'm the lucky one, Steven," she responded. "I can't bear to think about what my life would have been like without you."

Lesley moved closer to me and I put my arms around her.

"I love you so much," I told her.

By the time we made it down for breakfast, the room was almost empty. It was a Thursday and most of the people staying at the hotel were business types who had places to be. We filled up on the extensive buffet then, rather than take the lift back to our room, decided to jog up the stairs. I'd heard about how the altitude in Denver affects you but, it was only when we both reached our room out of breath, that I realised it was true.

Packing the bike with our few belongings we navigated our way out of the city and onto the highway. The mountains stretched out before us and I was surprised how quickly we climbed into them. Until then, my only real experience of mountains had been the Alps and I'd expected the Rockies to be similar. But the altitude was much greater and the valleys weren't as green as those I'd seen in France and Germany.

We stopped where we could for fuel and food. The weather was sunny but the altitude kept the temperatures down. We'd been warned to wear sunscreen however which Lesley, with her Celtic complexion, applied religiously.

It took us six hours to get to a crossroads just short of a place called Snowmass, which wasn't too far from Aspen. We stopped off at a fuel station, refuelled the bike and bought a local map. Lesley produced the handwritten directions Astrid had sent her and we tried to translate it to the map. Taking a road that ran alongside a small river we followed it until we saw a sign saying "Stables/Livery" then turned off the road and onto a gravel road.

When we reached a fork I had to stop. The right fork led to a large barn and I could see horses in the paddocks outside. The left continued along the line of the creek. I wasn't sure which to take but Lesley shouted to follow the creek.

Then, all of a sudden, we emerged from the wood and there was the house. A huge stone and timber building set in a clearing amid the Aspen trees. It was everything you'd imagined a banker's mountain ranch residence might look like.

We pulled up on the driveway near to the huge oak front door and, by the time we'd got off the bike and removed our helmets, Astrid had come out to greet us. Of course, I recognised her instantly from the pictures I'd seen of her in magazines. Tall, willowy and blonde, although her hair was shorter now than it had been at the height of her fame. Her face had aged slightly too, but you couldn't look twenty forever and while she must have been around mid to late thirties now, she still had that beautiful Scandinavian complexion.

Lesley looked like a puppy greeting a stranger for the first time. She was excited but she was uncertain. It had, after all, been six months since they'd last met. In the end she overcame her uncertainty and flung herself at Astrid.

"It's so good to see you again," Lesley said hugging her tightly.

"It's really good to see you too," Astrid responded, cheered by the greeting

I watched as the two of them embraced affectionately and was beginning to feel like a bit of a gooseberry until Lesley broke the embrace to introduce me.

"This is my husband, Steven," she said rather formally.

"Pleased to meet you Mrs Walmsley," I said trying to be polite.

"Astrid, please," she responded, giving me a friendly hug. "It's good to finally meet you Steven. I've heard so much about you from Lesley and of course from Carole and Kate too."

"Please don't believe everything they told you," I joked.

"They were very complimentary," Astrid responded. "You've got quite a little fan club going there."

"Tell me about it," Lesley laughed. "I feel like I only have a part share in Steven with those two"

"Paul is on the phone with work at the moment," Astrid explained rolling her eyes. "We flew in at lunchtime so we haven't been here long ourselves but he hasn't been off it since we arrived. He needs to stop and relax. I'm counting on your help with that."

"We'll make sure he does," Lesley said giggling.

"Anyway, I've made him promise not to answer the phone while you're here.

Astrid looked at the bike curiously.

"When you said you wanted to hire a motorbike, I assumed that you were going to hire one locally. I didn't realise you were going to ride all the way from Denver. Where's your luggage?"

"This is it," Lesley said pointing at the panniers. "We thought we could buy anything else here, if we needed it."

"What it is to be young and carefree," Astrid laughed. "But I think you might have to take a trip to the shops tomorrow."

Astrid invited us into the house and we followed her into what could only be described as a huge open plan living area. One side was all glass and looked out onto a deck with a hot tub, beyond which, the whole of the valley stretched out before us.

"Wow," Lesley said.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Astrid agreed. When we bought the land, we came and stood at this spot and knew this was the place to build the house.

"It's spectacular," Lesley cooed.

And she was right. It was.

"You must be thirsty. What would you like a drink?" Astrid asked. "There's tea or juice or..."

"If I'd been on my bike all day, I think I'd want a beer," a voice boomed as its owner walked down the staircase.

Paul Walmsley must have been around the same age as his friend, Daniel, mid-forties. He had what I'd describe as the build of an 'old boys' rugby player. Tall and powerful, but no longer as fighting fit as he had been in his youth. His dark hair was neatly cut and, in his chinos and Ralph Lauren shirt, he looked every inch the off-duty CEO. None of this however hid the fact that he looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot with big bags underneath them. He looked like he needed a good night's sleep.

"You'll have to excuse my wife," he said. "She assumes that everyone lives as healthily as she does."

Astrid tutted at him then asked if we wanted beer, which of course we both did.

Paul made a bee-line for Lesley and gave her a hug.

"It's good to see you again," he told her. "Astrid's been looking forward to your visit. We both have."

"Thank you so much for inviting us," Lesley responded. "Paul, this is my husband, Steven."

Paul turned to me and shook my hand warmly.

"Daniel's told me a lot about you," Paul said with an accent that was Americanised but still with a hint of Yorkshire about it.

"Thank you for inviting us to your home," I replied. "It's spectacular."

"Thanks," he said. 'Astrid and I planned it together. We bought the land when we moved from London, mainly as an investment but we fell in love with it along the way."

"We did," Astrid confirmed, handing him a beer and sitting down with him on a large leather sofa.

"Is all that land yours?" Lesley asked looking out of the window.

"There's two thousand acres. Give or take," Paul replied.

"Wow," Lesley replied.

"Some of it is flat and some of it not so," Paul added. "But we have pools and streams running through the property and the fishing's good."

"How do you look after a place like this when you're not here?" Lesley asked.

"Paul pays a property maintenance company to do it. Its big business round here, there's plenty of second homes." Astrid explained. "And you probably saw the stables as you came in. They were here when we bought the place. A couple run a livery business from it. They look after our horses and they keep an eye on things here for us too."

"You have horses?" Lesley said excitedly.

"Oh boy, do we have horses," Paul joked. "Big ones, little ones, old ones, young ones. Astrid can't resist a horse."

Astrid looked a bit embarrassed.

"Most of them are rescue animals," she explained. "It breaks my heart to see them when they arrive. Poor underfed things, I can't say no to them."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Paul said giving her a reassuring hug.

"If we can't do some good with the money we have," Astrid said with a hint of sadness. "We try to find new homes for them but nobody wants the older ones, so they stay here and live out their lives on the pasture"

"I'd love to see them," Lesley told her.

"We can go riding tomorrow if you like and the boys can go out on their bikes."

"I'd really like that," Lesley said excitedly...

We decided to eat early that evening as everyone had had a long day, but Paul looked especially tired. It took less than half an hour to drive into the thriving little town of Aspen in the Walmsley's Jeep Grand Wagoneer. The big 4.2 litre SUV with its faux wood side panels and compliant suspension burbled as Paul drove along the mountain roads.

In Aspen there were plenty of restaurants to choose from. Astrid and Paul took us to a small place just off the main street where the food was simple but good. Paul could hardly keep his eyes open during the meal however and I could see that Astrid was concerned. So, when I suggested that I was tired after being on the bike all day, everyone was in agreement that we should go back.