In Yorkshire. England. In the summer of 2014.
Emma's first time.
It was Emma's 18th Birthday. The sun shone in a clear blue sky. Birds sang. Not a breath of wind. The heat was stifling, especially as we don't usually get hot days here in Yorkshire. There was a big marquee on the manor lawn. The rock band were doing sound checks.
I was in a foul mood. I bought the wrong parts for my car. I had to take them back. On my bicycle, 18 miles there and 18 back. I was hot sweaty and thoroughly fed up.
I was half under the car, stripped to the waist trying to change my cam belt when Lord H, swept past in his Bentley. He stopped. Reversed back. "I say Hansen, put a shirt on, you'll frighten the damn horses!"
It wasn't the horses, it was his daughter Emma he was worried about. We lived on his estate. My dad worked for him. We lived in one of his cottages. Emma and I were almost the same age, the same school year, I'm six months older. We used to be friends, until he sent her to boarding school and I went to the local state school. Horten in Wharfedale Comprehensive.
"Yes my Lord. Of course my Lord," I said 'Three bags full my lord," I muttered.
He was a loathsome cretin, I really hated him. Short arsed little runt. He was on wife number three. Rumour had it he liked to watch his wives having group sex with well hung black guys. Personally I always suspected he was gay, well all English public schools have buggery after lights out as a compulsory subject don't they?
Emma was gorgeous. Honey blonde hair. Blue eyes. Hour glass figure. Today she had it squeezed into a top two sizes too small and shrink fit cut off jeans. She had already been round to laugh at me as I worked on my rather gaudy brilliant yellow MG car.
I didn't have an invitation to her party. It didn't worry me I would go anyway. Acquire some booze. Check out the talent. See if any of Emma's girl friends fancied slumming it. A bit of rough. Hence the no shirt in the hot sun routine to get a decent tan.
I got my cam belt on and did battle with the belt cover fixing bolts. Bare arms smeared with oil. Sweating profusely I battled on until I had used all the bolts up. I finished up. The engine ran. I had my freedom back.
"It goes then?" my father enquired.
"Seems like it," I agreed. "I'll get cleaned up."
I took a shower and wandered up to the manor, caterers were scuttling around, a boy band was doing a sound check and a group of very fit black guys were chatting around the back of the marquee.
"How do," I said in my best village idiot voice, "Whats going off then lads?"
"Thought it was a five thirty, turns out it's a nine thirty," one of them said.
"Dancers, Strippers?" I asked.
"Yeah something like that, do you want to do one before you really annoy us?"
he suggested.
"Have a nice day," I said, 'Just the one then die' I muttered.
"Hansen," Lord H called when he saw me, "Bugger off there's a good chap, invitation only, don't want riff raff gate crashing."
"Just offering to help," I explained, "I'll get off home then."
I came back later. Round the fields. Over the back wall.
The party was in full swing. You could hear the band five miles away. Booze flowed. Emma looked a million dollars. I was chatting to Katherine and Patricia who were Emma's friends from uni. Nice enough girls but difficult to separate and threesomes really are not my thing.
The sound system boomed.
"Well good evening ladies and gentlemen boys and girls," Lord H's slightly drunken voice boomed out. "I can hardly believe that eighteen years ago today my beautiful daughter Emma was born, When I first saw he I knew." he said, "My darling wife Kate, second wife that is, come up here Kate!"
His very glamorous second wife Kate climbed on stage to raucous cheers, an older version of Emma, more older sister than mum, "Big hand for Kate everybody," he shouted.
"When I first saw Emma in Kate's arms I knew, I knew ladies and gentlemen, I knew she wasn't mine!" There was a stunned silence.
"Daddy!" Emma cried. I quietly stood up and made my way towards the stage.
"Don't you daddy me," Lord H snapped, "You're not my daughter. You are just a Cuckoo in the nest. You are nothing to me. Nothing do you hear!"
"No!" Emma protested.
"She cost me a small fortune, Ladies and Gentlemen. Ponies. private school, clothes, foreign holidays," he continued, "But enough is enough, one final present and then if you want to stay here you can earn your keep."
"Oh yes," he continued his voice booming over the PA system, "Your diary is very illuminating. 11th of May. It says. 'I want to be fucked in all my holes by five fit black guys.' That's what you wrote. So my darling here is your birthday present, five fit black guys!"
