I had been divorced for six months and separated from my husband for eighteen. In that time, my life had changed a lot; new home, no husband, new life and a new job. Despite that I wanted more change. I needed something new in my life; a life-changer, I guess.
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 also move away from London as well, I never had before, but why not?' I was a city girl really, but the countryside had an appeal and that was certainly a change.
I registered with a few online job agencies for a position as a lecturer in Creative Writing at a university or sixth form college. One of the questions asked by the agencies was preferred location; it was then that the idea of moving away from London came to mind. I really didn't fancy Lancashire, Northumberland and most of the far North counties other than Yorkshire and I certainly wouldn't 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.
I was surprised at how many interviews I obtained and I thoroughly enjoyed touring round England visiting towns I had never been to before. Although most of the schools and colleges offered accommodation the night before the interview and travel expenses, I didn't take the accommodation reimbursements for I preferred to be independent. I could, therefore, stay overnight in good hotels, 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 BMW M3 to the locations.
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 and having dinner or a drink in the bar alone. Nothing much really happened, but it was the possibility that something might, that gave me the buzz along with the excitement of being hit upon and a 'chatted up.' At that time though, I was happy with Kevin and although I got the occasional come on, I turned them down.
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 I didn't want to get heavily 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 detested, into memorable sexual experiences, so I rejected men and I had taken a girlfriend. And she, Sammi is my naughtiness. She's twenty-four, is a blonde, blue-eyed beauty and, while at acting school and trying to become an actor she runs a home visit hair styling business. She is also bi-sexual.
I would like to say that Sammi and I were in love, but that would be overegging our relationship. We have become great pals and get on famously, but it wasn't love that held us together, it was, I, in a way reluctantly, accepted after a few months, purely sex.
I have always been a tactile person. In my later teens after reaching eighteen and becoming sexually active, I gained almost as much pleasure from boys caressing me as I did from having full sex with them. During my early sexual experience with awkward young guys, I gained as much pleasure from masturbating myself as I did from them shagging me; fortunately, that changed when I went with more experienced men. As I matured, I found massage and when on holiday have had many enjoyable times in spas, with a couple having very happy endings indeed.
Visiting a hair stylist whether male or female has always been a joy for me. Another person washing my hair and massaging my scalp has become my own personal erotic experience. So much so that when I visit a stylist, I make sure that I wear looser and thicker tops to disguise any embarrassment that may occur with my nipples.
"Oh shit, sorry Jayne," Sammi said as I felt the collar at the back of my white blouse getting wet as she washed my quite short, blonde hair, into which today she was going to put some darker streaks
I sat up. "No problem love, I'll just change it," I said unbuttoning the blouse and going to stand up.
"Not much point really Cat, you might as well stay like that," she said placing her hand on my upper arm as I removed my glasses, without which I am almost blind.
I looked up at her and our eyes met. She had 'that look' and held my gaze as I sat up straight.
"Here let me," she said not breaking her gaze and taking hold of the back of my white blouse. She helped me remove it and patted my neck and shoulders dry.
"Thanks," I said.
I think that my voice was shaking a little as I watched her gaze slip down to my full breasts in the white, diaphanous bra and then back to my eyes. A slight smile on her lips, she said softly.
"You're very welcome Jayne."
My heart was pounding as I lay back in the chair while she washed my hair. I knew that my areola and possibly hardened nipples would just about be on view through the thin, as good as transparent bra and I could tell that she was glancing at them as she ran her fingers through my hair and rubbed my scalp in the massage she always gave it. The front of her jeans, just where the zip ended, was almost continuously pressed against my shoulder.
'Was this a come on?' I kept asking myself as the stroking of her fingers on my hair and scalp seemed to be slower and softer. I could not believe that as I lay there in with my eyes closed, I imagined her hands on my breasts. I was shocked and I felt disappointed when she stopped and said.
"Let's go downstairs."
I took that opportunity to pick up a thin robe and slip it on.
That evening I was alone. I had a light dinner, a couple of glasses of wine and watched Strictly Come Dancing. I shocked myself when I looked at the female dancers in their skimpy dresses and thought how sexy they looked. I could not believe that I was staring at their nearly uncovered breasts, their long, dancer's legs and the swirling skirts that showed their panties as often as they covered them.
Although I had messed around with a few girls at uni, nothing more had happened for years, until now. And now there was Sammi. There was Sammi for the next time she did my hair she didn't stop at ogling my boobs, but firstly caressed them, then uncovered them and then kissed and sucked my nipples before we made love.
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 girlfriend.
"Well, it's up North aint it."
"So?"
"They speak funny don't they and things are different up here."
"Yes, Sammi that's why I might move there, 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 and unnecessary support 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 pert 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, just in case my children, Sara and Peter visited at the same time, some six miles away from the college in a delightful village that nestled in the moors and I 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 it and tend to the quite large gardens after I moved in. I found a gym, joined that and checked out the local pubs and restaurants. As my start day approached, I found myself becoming excited, but of course, apprehensive as well.
I wanted the change for sure, but was I going too far? I had never lived or spent much time in the north,' I knew no one up there; I was leaving the few friends I still had after the break up and yes, I was getting change and starting a new life.
*
"No stand up straighter," Sammi had coached me the last time we'd been together in the Docklands apartment I had moved into after the divorce. 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 lounge of my apartment. "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.
