It's funny how life can change so much and so quickly. It's strange how it can quickly switch from being fine with everything going swimmingly to it being totally fucked up. That was exactly how mine had become.
From being seemingly delightfully happy with my successful businessman of a husband and my pretty, well behaved, loving and intelligent teenage daughter taking her A levels to being alone. From being with a man who I thought I loved, alright he could be a bit of a sod with the ladies to finding out that he was in fact a serial philanderer, even with my sister, to kicking him out. From having a daughter at home to her going off to university. From being married to being divorced. From having a busy social life style to practically nothing. From running a large six-bedroomed house in an Essex suburb to living in a sterile, but upscale apartment overlooking water in Docklands. Going from having a regular and frequent supply of sex from my husband to being essentially celibate. From being able to satisfy my high sex drive by having my husband fuck me almost whenever I wanted, to having to masturbate frequently to relieve my frustration.
With most of my social life being with Kevin, my husband and other couples, and with most wives hating the idea of a divorcee around their man, my social life bombed. Kevin was a big name and a low handicap in the golf club; I was simply a pair of big tits, so I left.
Couples say they will try to maintain friendships with both parties after a divorce, don't believe them, it just don't work, so most of my 'friends' simply disappeared. There were a few husbands, though, who suddenly felt the need to tell me that their wives just didn't understand them and they had always fancied me. I think they believed that divorcees were simply gagging for it. That I may have been, but not so much that I wanted sex with them.
I was ok for money, which was just as well for my father's construction business was dragged down by the recession in Spanish property and my parents went to live there.
So, in practically all areas my life was fucked.
Oddly, despite all these changes I wanted more change.
I decided to go back to lecturing, something I had done for a while a few years ago. As I was looking for a vacancy I suddenly thought why not move away from London, I never had before, but why not? I was a city girl really, but the countryside had an appeal; that was certainly a change
I scrutinised the Times Educational Supplement and The Guardian looking for positions as a lecturer in English or Creative Writing at a university or sixth form college. I really didn't fancy Lancashire, Northumberland and most of the far North counties other than Yorkshire and I certainly wouldn't even consider Scotland or Wales. Devon and Dorset had an appeal and as I have always enjoyed Norfolk that got on the short list as well. Considering the recession I was surprised at the number and variety of jobs on offer. I started sending applications and my CV off and was pleased to be invited to numerous interviews.
*
"Why go away?" Sammi said as we lay together on my sexually underused huge double bed in Docklands.
"I just feel it's time for a major change," I replied kissing her head.
"What if it doesn't work out?" She asked cupping my full and slightly sagging breast and licking the nipple that was still rock hard from us just having made love.
"I'll just come back. I won't sell the apartment so Sara can use it when she comes home and of course I can pop back and meet you here any time and you can come and stay with me when you like."
We didn't talk much more for half an hour or so for we had other uses for our mouths; she tasted wonderful!
*
I was surprised at how many interviews I obtained, but thoroughly enjoyed touring round England visiting towns I had never been to before. Although most of the schools and colleges offered accommodation and travel expenses I didn't take the accommodation reimbursements for I preferred to be independent. I could, therefore, stay overnight in hotels even though it may not have been necessary, and I could choose where I stayed, rather than the cheap fleapits their allowances would provide. I did though accept their travelling allowance, which at forty pence per mile more than covered the costs of driving my M3 to their location.
I always get a thrill out of staying in hotels by myself, not that I do it that often. But when I was married and was working I had to stay away at times and usually gained a nice tingle when checking in, having dinner or a drink in the bar. Nothing much ever happened, but it was the possibility that something might that gave me the buzz. At that time though, I was happy with Kevin and although I got the occasional come on I turned them down. Hotels had provided more thrills, however, when I had my affair with David for it was in them that we had much of our sex during our six month affair.
During my 'interview tour' I wasn't naughty, well not with strangers, or men come to that. I had several chances, but didn't progress them. In any case I was pretty much off men having been let down so badly by my husband of over twenty years.
I was now in a complete Catch 22 situation. I'd had a wild period after the divorce came through bedding six guys in about as many months, well to be accurate I bedded only four and carseated two!. I hated myself for what I was doing so I stopped dating. But I needed sex, yet didn't want to get involved, didn't want to become emotionally dependent upon a man, couldn't bring myself to make the mental connection needed to turn one night stands, which I hated, into memorable sexual experiences, so I rejected men and I had taken a girl friend. Sammi is my naughtiness. She's twenty three, just slightly older than my daughter and she is a blonde, blue eyed beauty studying stage and film production at an acting school in Bloomsbury, London. She is also totally bi-sexual.
Sammi came with me on a little tour I made in Yorkshire and Derbyshire when I had a number of interviews over a three day period. That meant staying two nights in hotels, which was lovely.
"Would you move all the way up here?" The Essex girl asked as we had dinner together in the hotel dining room in Harrogate.
"I might, why not?" I smiled back at my beautiful, young, sexy and very available dining partner and girl friend.
"Well it's up North aint it."
"So?"
"Well they speak funny don't they and things are different up here."
"Yes Sammi that's why I might move here, things are different, I'm different, I want to do different things," I told her as we went up in the rickety lift to our room on the fifth floor.
"What do you mean different things?" She asked as she stepped out of her jeans and I pulled her tee shirt over her head baring her small breasts that rarely had the dubious benefit of a bra, but then with the pertness and firmness of her youth, her B cups didn't need any support. Now in just a tiny pale blue thong she looked so young, slightly vulnerable, but massively sexy; I could hardly wait to fuck her, so I didn't.
*
In the end I took a post as a Junior Lecturer in Creative Writing at a redbrick university just outside Whitby in North Yorkshire. It was the beauty of the national park and the sparkling eyes, nice grin and tight bum of the male head of the Arts Department that swung it for me.
During the three months waiting to take up the post at the start of the autumn term in early October, I visited the area a few times. I rented a three-bedroomed cottage some six miles away from the college in a delightful village that nestled in the moors and ordered some furniture and other stuff. I found an older lady and her husband who would look after the place until I got there and then would clean the place and tend to the quite large gardens after I moved in. I found a gym and joined that and checked out the local pubs and restaurants. As my start day approached I found myself becoming excited, but strangely apprehensive as well.
I wanted change for sure, but was I going too far? I had never lived 'oop north,' I knew no one up there; I had a new job and a new home. What the fuck had I done, I thought many times?
Standing in front of the mixed gender class of eighteen to twenty two year olds as I prepared to deliver my first lesson I was hellishly nervous. I was wearing an on the knee length skirt and thin wool sweater, which on reflection I had thought in the ladies just prior to entering the class, was probably a little too tight for it seemed to mould itself to my boobs which lately had bloated up to DD at least, the bastards.
"Good morning everybody," I said in the most friendly yet firm voice I could muster. "I'm Amanda Williams and I am here to teach you about creative writing."
*
"No stand up straighter," Sammi had coached me the last time we'd been together in the Docklands apartment. She had persuaded me that a part of teaching was acting, something they hadn't told me at the teacher training college. "Body language, voice tones, personal projection, use of hands and movement are all part of communications" she'd explained as I stood naked in the main bedroom of my cottage. "People take in more of how something is said than what is said," she told me.
We had just had sex. Good sex, but then the sex between us was always good and today's was no exception.
Sammi has a fabulous tongue and boy does she know how to use it. After we'd both made the other climax by using our fingers on the other's clit and pussy, we'd showered together and had a couple of glasses of wine.
"Lay on the sofa," she'd said in a rather stern way. Although we are quite mutual in our lovemaking, Sammi does have a slightly dominating nature at times, which suits me fine for I am naturally fairly submissive.
I undid the towel that I'd wrapped round me, let it fall to the floor and stared at my young, blonde lover. God did she look good. She really is a Lolita for her face has such a youthful innocence that is quite belied by her womanly body and sexual behaviour. She was also wrapped in a towel, a canary yellow one, which emphasised her golden hair and stunning blue eyes and showed off her tanned skin and the freckles on her chest and shoulders.
"No on your front," she growled as I went to lie on my back.
