Late autumn, and once again I find myself sitting in the corner of a familiar cosy hotel bar on the edge of the small seaside town of Rye in Sussex.
For longer than I care to remember, I have visited this same hotel twice a year with old friends John and Pete. We used to come here to go sea fishing, but we decided a few years ago to give that up. Now in our early fifties, the good food, easy company and convivial bar seemed more agreeable to us than wallowing in a cold boat all day, so the decision was made to continue the weekends and drop the fishing.
***
Now, this is a small 18th Century hotel carrying a nautical theme. The small lounge bar is full of large comfortable armchairs, so as we sat chatting, it was easy to 'people watch' as the bar began to fill with small groups and couples having a quick drink before setting out for the evening. Polite conversation with strangers is the norm here, due to the confines of the place, so I was surprised when everyone's attention was drawn to two couples that burst through the door in a flurry of giggles and loud voices..
They had obviously had a few drinks already, and as they pushed their way to the bar, one of the men announced that he was going to buy everyone a drink.
As he asked around, most people politely declined his offer.
"Come on you lot, what's wrong with you? It's our wedding anniversary and my birthday, so the least you can do is have a drink with me!"
With this, a few of us took up his offer just to keep the peace.
Choosing a table next to us, he introduced himself as Steve, his wife as Sally and the other couple as Tony and Christine. As he sat opposite us, he kept drawing us into his conversation, a bit of a pain really, I was more interested in studying the menu for my evening meal, than his potted life history. Anyway, from the information forced up us, I deduced that Tony and Christine were staying at a nearby hotel as this place was fully booked, and that they were all eating there later that evening.
I breathed a sigh of relief, when after a few more drinks they announced that it was time to get changed before they went out.
Bidding us farewell like long lost friends, they left the bar and the usual calm was reinstated.
***
"'Ere," said Pete, "I'm fucking glad we're not eating at the same place as them tonight!"
John looked at him, smiling, "Oh I don't know, that big blond girl, what was her name? Christine! she looked like a lot of fun, better than sitting with you old buggers all night!"
"You'd never keep up with a young girl like that"
I joked,
"She could wear all three of us out and still want more!"
"I'd sooner be worn out by that little dark haired girl, Sally, she had a lovely little body on her, but you're right, at their age it would still take the three of us to satisfy them." replied Pete, turning back to the menu.
"Anyway, back to reality, have you lot decided what you're eating yet?"
Dinner was eventually chosen, and after another quick drink we left the bar to amble through to the restaurant. On passing through the lobby we found our paths crossed once more by Steve and Sally on there way out.
Now, I'm not one to take a lot of notice of girls in their twenties, after all, at thirty years older there seems little point. I am, however, a sucker for a pair of high heeled boots, and I was drawn to the pair the Sally wore as she tottered out. She wasn't dressy, just the knee high boots, black stockings, (they may have been tights, but I like to give them benefit of the doubt, tights can make the sweetest pussy look like a burglar!) All worn with a plain black dress, but really, it was the boots that got to me. Not worthy of comment to the others, but I made a mental note that I'd like to see more of them later should they return to the bar.
***
A couple of hours later after an excellent meal and a few equally excellent bottles of wine, we made our way back to the bar for a coffee and a few brandies.
Having settled comfortably back in the corner, I was just about to start my second brandy when the door flew open and in stumbled Steve. Weaving his way to the bar, his eyes lit up when he recognized us,
"Ah, my friends are shtill here, barman lesh have a round for these fine gents!"
"Are you sure that's a good idea sir?" enquired the bar tender.
"Issn excellent idea" replied Steve.
The barman gave me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow.
"It's OK George; give him one more, we'll keep an eye on him." I assured him.
Steve slumped down in a chair opposite Pete.
"What have done with the Missus then?" I ventured.
"Outside somewhere" he replied with a dismissive wave of his arm.
"Think she's got the hump with me!"
"No shit!" said Pete, "Why d' you think that is then?"
"Dunno, jusht been having a bit of fun, Christ, I need to piss, where's the bogs?"
Directing him downstairs, we watched him bounce across the bar, leaving a couple of stools on their side as he went.
George brought a tray of drinks over.
"Better make this the last one for him I think" he noted, as he placed the drinks on the table.
Just then the door opened and in walked Sally with a face like thunder.
"Has my 'Prat' been in here?" she asked.
"Yeah, he's just gone down to the toilets"
"Well, I hope he fucking stays there!" she retorted.
"He's as pissed as a parrot; I'm so fucking angry with him! This is supposed to be a treat for our wedding anniversary and all he's done is get pissed and embarrass me. We were nearly thrown out of the restaurant because of his behavior. I get one night away from the kids and this is what happens. I could kill him!"
I could see that she was now close to tears.
"Come and sit down love, do you want a drink or a coffee?" I invited.
She looked a little uncertain, and then sat down opposite me.
"Thanks, do you mind if I have both? A black coffee and a Southern Comfort on the rocks would be wonderful, better make it a large one, I've been taking it easy all night but there seems no point now!"
"Well don't go to mad," advised Pete, "You don't want to be catching up with your husband!"
Sally sighed, "He wouldn't take a lot of catching up with, he shouldn't drink really, he gets pissed walking past a bar's extractor fan, stupid sod!"
She lent to one side to look over her shoulder.
"Where's he got too? I bet he's fallen asleep in the toilets, it wouldn't be the first time!"
While she was looking away, my eyes were drawn back to her legs, this was getting more interesting as I could now see a glimpse of thigh above her stocking tops! Stockings and boots, my favorite combination, I was right, she didn't look the sort that would wear tights. I don't think that I would have been hitting the booze so hard had it been my anniversary!
As she sat chatting to us, I started to take more interest in her features.
She was quite short, may be five four in her heels, with a pale complexion exaggerated by her dark red lipstick, and black straight shoulder length hair that curled in at the bottom. She had a slim but nicely rounded body with a fine pair of firm tits, not big, but probably a good handful, which is all you need, (or should it be knead?) in my opinion.
Altogether a very nice little combination.
Her drinks arrived, but still no sign of her husband.
"I need to go downstairs, I'll 'ave a look and see if he's alright." Pete volunteered.
He was back a couple of minutes later.
