Paula. A female friend is not what she seems.
When I had finished writing what follows, I looked back at it and realised that what I was describing was the extended period of my grooming. Essentially, those who groomed me took someone who had, over time and circumstances, become almost asexual. They sexualised her, and prepared her to accept what eventually happened to her. It may seem odd, but looking back I had to admire them - for a couple of reasons, one of which I'll explain at the end. Not least of these was the time and effort that they were prepared to invest in me.
I met Helen in my Pilates class. She just seemed to appear one day, but then people did come and go. I don't know what made me notice her. She was younger than a lot of the other ladies - in her thirties was my guess. Just a little older than me. One thing that struck me immediately was her confidence. She would chat with anyone, and most people seemed to like her.
Given that we were similar in age, I suppose it wasn't surprising that we would hit it off. We started going for coffee after class, and would sit and chat about the class, the instructor, and the other women - they were all women. I started to look forward to meeting her. Over the weeks I got to know that she had a partner, had no children, and lived not far away. She got to know that I had no partner, and no children.
Our friendship continued to grow, and one day after class she suggested that we go back to hers for coffee. She had a nice small house nearby. I didn't ask whether it was rented or whether it belonged to her and her partner. It had a neat kitchen at the front of the house and patio doors overlooking a small garden at the back. As soon as we got there, she put on the coffee, installed me in the lounge with the patio doors, and disappeared upstairs briefly. We were both wearing slacks for pilates, but when she came back downstairs, she was wearing a skirt.
She must have seen a trace of puzzlement on my face. Why change into a skirt for a female friend? She explained "My partner Pete likes me to wear a skirt at home. I know it sounds a bit controlling, but he's not like that at all. He's happy for me to go and see whoever I like. It's just that he thinks skirts are very feminine, and I'm happy to do things that he likes."
She made it sound very reasonable. I must admit that I was intrigued by Pete. I wanted to know what sort of a man he was. She continued "He works as a TV and media engineer - fixing and installing TVs, DVDs, home cinemas - all that kind of thing. He works locally, so sometimes he gets the chance to pop back during the day. I only work three days a week now, at the doctor's surgery, so we often meet up during the week.
I wondered what went on at these mid-week meet-ups. We had a pleasant chat, and I admired the house and garden. It seemed to me that she was a lucky woman. I didn't stay long, just about as long as we would have stayed in a café.
A week later we were back at Helen's having coffee. She had already changed into her skirt. I heard the front door open and in walked Pete. She introduced us and we exchanged pleasantries. I said I was pleased to see him, and as I said it realised that it was true. He was a good-looking guy, about the same age as Helen. He had broadish shoulders and a narrow waist. The classic A-line look that makes women notice men's bodies. I had another reason to think that Helen was a lucky woman.
I should explain that I like men. The fact that I didn't have a partner or a boyfriend at the time didn't mean that I didn't. I'd had a boyfriend right through school, and when we left, we lived together for a while. His name was Brian. He was so laid back that he was almost horizontal. I distinctly remember that it was me who suggested we have sex that first time. We'd had a reasonable amount of sex after that but it was always much the same. I'd often initiate it. Brian would mount me, penetrate me. and thrust away to his climax. Then he'd turn over and go to sleep, leaving me lying there in the dark with a wet fanny. I'd have to deploy three fingers and a lot of imagination to reach my climax. I'd have to say that they were the best orgasms that I had during my time with Brian. Dissatisfaction with sex led to dissatisfaction with much else, and we didn't stay together long after we started having sex. There were other men later, but nothing that lasted.
Pete explained that he had a short gap between jobs, and rather than go a café, had decided to come home for a snack. Helen offered to make him a sandwich and they both went into the kitchen. I stayed in the lounge, stepped up to the patio doors and looked out at the garden. I discovered that if I turned my head I could see into the kitchen where Pete and Helen were standing at the worktop while Helen busied herself. They had their backs to me. I looked back at the garden. There was a cat out there, mooching around, probably looking for an unwary bird. Something made me turn my head again, and I saw Pete with his hand right up Helen's skirt, squeezing her bum. I quickly turned back to the garden. I had a feeling that Pete was looking my way to check whether I'd seen anything. I gave him no indication that I had, and sat back down in my chair. Pete didn't stay long, but took his sandwich and left. As he left, he called out "Bye Paula. See you some other time." I said goodbye and Helen came back into the lounge.
"I hope Pete didn't mind me being here" I said.
"Good heavens, no," said Helen. "He likes meeting my girlfriends. He jokes that my taste in women is almost as good as his!"
That made me smile. I had a feeling that there was a compliment in there somewhere.
"Paula, look. You might have got the impression that Pete wanted more than a sandwich just now."
I didn't say anything, but couldn't help a little chuckle. We both smiled.
Helen continued. "Don't worry about him. He won't be too disappointed. Sometimes it's good for him to wait. He brings it all back later, if you know what I mean."
