SEX AND THE OFFICE -- BARBARA
For her thirty-fifth birthday Barbara was offered a job. It the best birthday present she could have had. In fact, it was the only one she got. Both her boys had forgotten all about her birthday.
'Oh, well,' she thought, 'that's kids for you.' Her husband hadn't remembered it either until he phoned from his office to wish her a happy day. 'But I don't care now. I've got some work.'
The way was open for her, at last, to pursue her own independent career.
She was known as Babs at home. Her two teenage boys went to the local grammar school - what used to be called Secondary Schools for Boys - and required less of her attention than they used to. All they wanted from her now were clean shirts and underwear, plenty of food on the table at meal times. Go to the football match on Saturday with their dad. They were well satisfied.
When she was twenty-two, Babs had married an ordinary, dependable young man, as selfish as the next husband. She didn't know whether she loved him or not, but they'd been courting for four years. 'Well, he's a presentable young man, as good as the next fellow,' she thought.
He was a engineering draughtsman whose pleasures were to watch TV after his meal, go out for a drink with the lads on Friday evenings, take the boys to a football match on Saturday afternoons and watch it on TV on a Saturday night. He even played the game himself for a local team on Sunday mornings.
'Well, it keeps him fit. And it gives me time to do the ironing and house cleaning without them constantly under my feet.' She valued these quiet times she had to herself, even if they were filled with household chores.
Babs had never had much enthusiasm for sex. Neither she nor her sister, Alison, had been given any education in the fundamental process of having babies. They had experimented with themselves, as most boys and girls do when young, but found nothing particularly exciting about it. Her sister was two years older than Babs, so they learned together about the unsavoury parts of growing up into womanhood.
Babs began to look upon the human body with some distaste wondering why God had not made the whole physical process less messy. It seemed somehow dirty and unwholesome. When her sister Alison started walking out with a young man, who was later to become her husband, her experience widened and she was able to tell Babs all about men.
So Babs knew roughly what to expect when she herself was asked to go for walks after Sunday school by a boy who lived down the next street. No other young man she liked better came into her life so, when Bernard proposed to her, she dutifully accepted him. He was nothing special, but then neither was she. Five and a half feet, 120 pounds, with breasts rather larger than she would have wished. Dark hair, unremarkable features. Not what you'd call fun-loving.
Alison was the matron of honour and her two nieces were the bridesmaids. They went to the church in a large white car. Bernard's brother was the best man, wearing a white carnation, her father gave her away, her mother wore a white hat with a spray of flowers pinned on, and cried a lot during the service. Confetti was thrown, photographs were taken in the churchyard, before they all went to the Coop café for a sherry reception and a hot meal for the wedding breakfast.
It was all very ordinary. Babs smiled dutifully, looking radiant, and her father, who had drunk far too much sherry on top of the large whiskeys before he left home, topped up with others from a hip flask, made a silly speech. Everybody laughed except Babs. She blushed with embarrassment.
Then they went home to change before catching the train to Bridlington for their week's honeymoon whilst the rest of the family went down to the club for the evening. It a very jolly day for the families, but Babs couldn't honestly say she had found it the happiest day of her life they had all promised her it would be. It was okay, but ... well!
Barbara was a virgin bride. On their wedding night she endured with courage the requisite assault by her husband. She had taken the precaution of bringing a towel with her to put in the bed in case there was a mess. Alison had warned her what to expect. It was a bit painful, and a great relief when he eventually finished.
After that, the nightly ritual wasn't so bad. There wasn't much to it. Each evening after dinner Bernard had a few drinks in the bar whilst she nursed a gin and tonic before retiring. Their room actually had a small private bathroom attached; quite a luxury for Babs. She was pleased about that. Bernard went into the bathroom to put his pyjamas on whilst Babs undressed and slipped into her nightie behind the open wardrobe door. She was in bed before Bernard came back in.
When the light was turned out, Bernard would lean over and kiss her whilst fondling her breasts. That was nice, having breasts fondled. She liked that. It helped her to lubricate 'down there'. But it wasn't long before he pulled up her night-dress and rolled on top of her. Bernard would then insert his penis into her wet vagina, bounce up and down on her for a few minutes before emptying his sperm into her with a grunt.
And that was it. He rolled over and went to sleep.
She soon came to the conclusion that she didn't much care for sex, but if that was what husbands wanted, she'd have to put up with it. She never once felt any fulfilment during intercourse. It was more of a penance.
'No,' she thought to herself, 'sex is grossly over-rated.'
Within three months of her marriage, Babs found she was pregnant. That made her happier and, to her great relief, she had a trouble-free birth of a bouncing baby boy. She found that she enjoyed motherhood. Now, that DID give her fulfilment! So, when the child was a few months old she determined to have another. Why not?
