Seven Days In September

PREFACE

This is the sequel to a story I wrote a while back called 'A Trip to Remember'. I was encouraged by the largely positive comments and ratings received on that first story, so I decided to go ahead and write the sequel. I had always hoped to do so, and the following is the result.

Firstly, before readers skip ahead and dive in, this is a warning to those who prefer something quicker. This, like the majority of my writing, is a slow-burn story. I like building a world where my characters exist to create greater realism and credibility. I understand this is not every reader's cup of tea, hence the reason for my note of caution. The last thing I want to do is disappoint potential readers by not giving them what they expect. I believe that immersing oneself in a story rather than quickly getting to the 'good stuff' brings the reader on a journey rather than arriving at the destination without any real way of getting there or relatable context.

This story is much longer than the first, and so may appeal less to many readers. It's a more traditional, long-form, novel-length work with, dare I say, an element of romance, which I hope will allow readers to identify with the protagonists as they follow their journey. I aim to gradually build the narrative to instil the reader with a sense of expectation about what is to come and, thus, invest you, the reader, with a growing feeling of the underlying tension between the two protagonists. I want to create a sense of anticipation, the journey, before arriving at the destination, as alluded to above. I also have a complete story arc here, so there is a conclusion, an end to the journey, or the beginning of a different one. I'll let you be the judge of that.

For a long time, I've thought about ways to involve readers more in my stories. So, I've come up with a multimedia approach. In essence, I have created a soundtrack to this story. Movies have done this since their inception, so doing so for a novel might be an unusual, perhaps even a unique, combination. Music is referenced throughout this story, and I hope to immerse the reader more into the era and emotional journey. The soundtrack is available on Spotify under the name of this story and associated with my user name. You should be able to search it out, but you will need a Spotify account, which is free, to listen. Services like Spotify also have song lyrics available. I'd recommend that those interested look at them as they will add context to the music by addressing many elements of the story arc. Readers may want to listen to a particular track as it is encountered within the story for a more immersive experience. The choice is yours, of course. I hope this approach adds to the overall experience.

A word on themes in my writing. I tend to underpin my stories on the undercurrent of sexual repression, either because of social, cultural or religious doctrines and their attendant attitudes. I like to explore the juxtaposition between those who have lived with such repression and those of more enlightened, liberal attitudes. The contrast and ultimate collision between the two can offer an exciting dynamic that can liberate those once repressed.

I am also a firm believer that the most potent sex organ in the body is the brain. The best sex starts in your head, not your groin. Erotica stimulates the mind, followed by the body, and I hope to achieve something of that in my writing.

The underlying theme of Nuala's character in this story is the repression of sexuality by the Catholic Church and how the power of religion and religious beliefs often lead to self-denial, deep-seated guilt and unfulfilment. One only has to look back through the history of the Catholic Church and its preachings in matters of sex and sexuality to understand the level of repression.

I hasten to add that I do not wish to offend anyone of a religious bent. I was raised as a Roman Catholic, so I understand. I left religion once I got into my twenties and away from the influences that so often treat children as automatic disciples of any parent-given faith. I respect those with religious beliefs but do not share them.

I hope you find something in this story that you can recognise, identify with or appreciate in some small way.

Still here? Great!

Being new to writing has shown me how hard it can be. It likely comes easier to those with real, natural talent, and then they're those like me! This is as much a journey for me as those of the characters I write. I have much to learn and hope to become a better writer over time. The other thing I've discovered about the writing process is I am never happy with my work; constantly tweaking, adding, changing, etc. It's a process one can continue doing forever. This is the first thing I have learned about this endeavour: it's never finished and never perfect.

Finally, if you're still reading, thank you. I didn't think anyone would ever read a story I had written, and I am humbled by the generous feedback I have received.

Oh, and before I go, I want to thank all those who have read my other work and am grateful to you for choosing to read this one. I hope to reward your time and patience.

I once heard a writer say they fall in love with their characters. I didn't think that was true until I undertook this work. I've tried to make Nuala as real a person as possible and, in so doing, found that I have indeed lost a piece of my heart to her. If this story comes across as intended, she might also steal a piece of yours, too.

CHAPTER ONE

July, 1988

Three years at university, followed by several months into my first real job, and I'd done quite a bit of growing up, or so I liked to think. I was still just twenty-two years old and was the kind of person who knew I still had a lot more growing up to do. University had boosted my confidence, and those three years spent, mostly having a good time and making new friends, were unforgettable. I met a few girls during that time and, to my great surprise, even managed to scrape a degree in a subject that helped me land my current job.

As shy and inexperienced as I was with girls before university, I somehow managed to find myself a girlfriend or, should I say, she found me. I think my shyness attracted her. Kim had taught me a thing or two about girls. She was one of those bohemian types: liberal, willing to try anything at least once and very self-assured. She took a shy virgin and showed me exactly what to do and how to do it. I learned so much about foreplay and sex from her.

Kim had been in her last year at university while I was in my first. She took a three-month break to spend time with her mother after graduating and remained in the area, so we continued our relationship beyond her final year on a sporadic basis. Then, in my last year, 1987, she began working in the library on campus, so we got to see more of each other. After Christmas of that year, Kim quit her job. We kept in touch for a short while, but, as I suspected, she left me a goodbye message and headed off backpacking to some God-forsaken place, and I lost contact with her. Kim had always been a free spirit, a girl I'd never forget, and someone who never stayed in one place too long. I'll never forget the crazy times we had.

Between terms at university, I worked summer jobs, saved as much money as I could, and completed the driving lessons I had started before university. I passed the first time and was over the moon to do so. However, I didn't have a car; I couldn't afford one then and had to content myself with borrowing my mother's car when I could.

This all changed when I started working as a trainee programmer for a computer company three months ago. I was living at home and paying my mother a modest amount for my keep. I knew I was lucky, very lucky, not to have the added financial burden of living away from home, and this allowed me to buy my first car.

The car wasn't new, being close to ten years old. However, it was mine, and I got it for a good price, too; the owner was desperate for a quick sale. Further, it was in excellent condition, had been well taken care of, and wasn't a base model; therefore, it was better specced than I could've otherwise afforded. What really sold it for me, though, was that it had a nice sound system fitted, complete with rear speakers in addition to the speakers installed in the front doors, all driven by a good tape deck. Having my car gave me a new sense of independence, and I'd occasionally visit old university friends on the weekends.

I had decided to take a couple of weeks off work in early September after the kids had returned to school from their summer break. Prices dropped rapidly, and things were generally quieter, so I wondered what to do with my time off. That was two months away, so I had plenty of time to ponder my options.

At the end of the week, I headed to the pub with my colleagues for a few drinks. I'd gotten to know the guys who worked with me quite well, and we'd formed an easy friendship in the short time I'd worked for the company. While I sat around the table shooting the breeze, as young guys tended to do after a couple of beers, one of my friends asked about our first sexual experience. Each of the guys sitting around the table told their stories. I listened intently as the focus went around the table until it was my turn. I had a big grin as memories of Kim remained fresh in my mind. "Well," I began to say with a broad grin, ready to regale my drinking buddies about my days at university when my grin faded as an earlier memory resurfaced, something I hadn't thought about in a long while.

Greg grinned. "It's alright, Will, mate," he said, leaning back in his chair and puffing on his cigarette. "No need to be shy."

Greg was the most outspoken at the table and had posed the question to us all in the first place. I was closest to Greg; he had taken me under his wing when I started working for the company. He was funny, often loud, with a mischievous sense of humour and a cheeky smile to go with it. I hadn't thought about the incident with Aunt Nuala in a long time, not consciously. I hadn't forgotten about it, but it had become a subconscious event.

Having listened to the other lurid accounts, it became evident that I was a late starter, being nineteen when I met Kim. So far, the others who had told their stories had lost their virginity, ranging from ages thirteen to seventeen. "I'm just a late starter, that's all," I said by way of explanation for my initial reticence.

I told them about Kim, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details and exaggerating others. However, in the back of my mind, my thoughts returned to Aunt Nuala and that road trip I had taken some four years ago.

James had begun recounting his first sexual exploits, but I wasn't listening, instead allowing my mind to drift back to the last time I saw Nuala ...

... I sat in the passenger seat of my mother's car, the window wound down with the engine idling away. We had packed our bags that morning, preparing to leave after spending a few days with Aunt Nuala. All that morning, I felt a tingling tension in the pit of my stomach after what I had seen just three hours before. It was hard to explain. As far as my mother was concerned, nothing was different between my aunt and myself. However, I felt this sort of heaviness between us when we were near each other. It wasn't a bad feeling, just something intangible yet palpable. It was that feeling of having shared a dark secret that in itself came with an underlying thrill.

As I sat in the car, watching my mother and Nuala saying their final farewells, my mind kept going over what had happened that morning. I stared over to see Nuala, looking as lovely as ever, but now it was different for me. Aunt Nuala was a woman I'd had a crush on for years, and now I looked at her with new eyes. I held the image of her in her dressing gown that had fallen open to reveal her nakedness beneath. My mind tried to reconcile what I was looking at now, the clothed, attractive and quietly demure woman, with what I had seen just hours earlier. To look at Nuala, one would believe that she had no sexuality, no desire at all. It was like the prim primary school teacher, a person one couldn't imagine having sex or sexual needs of any kind. Yet, here I was, looking at Nuala and now knowing differently. Something about that was both a revelation and exciting, like a hitherto undiscovered secret. I had found that other person trapped deep inside Nuala, one that may never have come out.

Was it only me that looked at Nuala, or women in general, the way I did? I sometimes thought I was a bit different about what appealed to me. My friends were fixated on big-breasted women, usually blonde, and that was more or less it. I, on the other hand, noticed the little things, the more subtle things. Watching Nuala speaking with my mother a few yards away with her back to me, I saw how my aunt's dark hair caught the light when she nodded. That turquoise clasp, which held her hair in a sort of broad, flat ponytail, looked so beautifully feminine to me. The way her slender waist contrasted with the graceful outward flare of her hips was something that I never got bored seeing.

As my hungry young eyes roved over her body, I considered that this was all about angles and curves, perhaps a mathematician's dream. It was about contrast and compliment. I'm sure my friends would've rolled their eyes at what I found attractive in a woman and, from the scant few conversations I'd had with them about this, they didn't understand. I already knew I was different in what attracted me to a woman. Sometimes, I thought I was a bit odd for feeling the way I did.

None of that mattered now as I looked over at Nuala talking with my mother on the drive. I just realised that the colour of her skirt matched that of her hair clasp. Perhaps another tiny detail most my age likely would never have noticed. As I scrutinised her from a distance, I realised that it was the delicate, elegant, feminine touches that drew me rather than the obvious, crass attributes so desired by my group of friends.

While observing quietly, I saw another tiny thing that only added to my aunt's aura of attractive elegance. As she chatted with my mother, her stance subtly changed. I heard the distant soft report of her heel repositioning itself on the concrete driveway as she shifted her weight, raising her left arm to point out to her side. Her new posture saw her rest her weight on her right leg while the other moved out at an angle toward her outstretched arm. This slightly shifted her right hip sideways to enhance the already delicious curve. Her left leg moved outward to her side, creating a pose I found sexy.

I continued to observe while the car engine hummed softly. There, I spotted another little detail. As Aunt Nuala continued to point, I saw her give a little nod while pivoting her left foot up from the heel, the toe of her elegant shoe now pointing upward as the tip of her heel rested on the ground. Nuala trilled a laugh, a soft, musical sound, as her hand came down, and her stance returned to normal with another delicate click of her heel. Nuala gave another little nod, the clasp bobbing up and down at the back of her head and catching the sunshine that was now starting to peak through the mid-morning clouds.

My eyes fixed on the lovely curves that the swell of her bottom furnished her smart skirt with. The way the base of her spine seemed to curve outward and into that sort of pear shape I found so attractive. Angles and curves, I thought as my mother headed toward the car with Nuala walking beside her.

Then, I felt something unexpected—sadness. Something about my aunt had always drawn me to her, and now we were leaving. She'd be alone until this evening when my uncle returned from his weekly sales trips. Nuala would be by herself in that big house, alone with her thoughts, until Pat arrived home. What would go through her mind? Would she come to regret what had happened? Only time would tell.

"Now, have you got everything?" Nuala asked my mother as the two women came up alongside the car.

"Yes, I think so," Mother replied, walking around the car to the driver's side.

Nuala now stood right outside my door. My mother suddenly changed direction, trotting back towards the open front door of Nuala's house. "I'd better go use the loo before we leave," she had called back before disappearing into the house.

My aunt looked after my mother and waited until she was out of sight before returning to face the car. As soon as I saw Mother disappear into the house, that silent tension returned. Nuala placed a hand on the sill of my door and leant forward to peer in through the open window, her delicate perfume drifting into the car. Our eyes locked, and for the briefest moment, we said nothing; that invisible heaviness was now more thrilling than ever. Nuala glanced furtively over at her front door. "You take care now," she said softly.

I looked up into her eyes and smiled. "You too."

Nuala's eyes flicked back to the house before returning to me. "You know," she began nervously, "you're welcome to come visit anytime."

Despite her tentative tone of voice, I could see the sincerity in her eyes. "I'd love to," I said with a little nod and a grin. There it was again, that heaviness between us as we just looked at one another for a couple of seconds. "Thanks for," I hesitated, my gaze intensifying. "Um ... for everything."

Nuala stole a glance at the front door and hesitated, starting to chew her bottom lip before stopping herself. Her hand that had rested on the door sill now gripped it, and moistening her lips, she drew in a breath to speak.

"False alarm! I'm back. Sorry about that," came my mother's cooing voice as she emerged from the front door and began trotting back down the drive toward the car.

Nuala straightened up, removed her hand from the car door and walked toward my approaching mother to share one last hug with her.

A minute later, we were driving away, Aunt Nuala waving after us. That was the last memory I had of her ...

... My mind returned to the conversation around the table. The guys burst into laughter at something, and I joined in, not wanting to give away the fact I'd been lost in thought.

I enjoyed the rest of my evening with my friends over a few more beers and caught the bus home. While staring out the window, my thoughts returned to Aunt Nuala, and I finally made a decision. I was going to do it. I would use my time off in September to visit her again.

CHAPTER TWO

Laying in bed with my fingers laced behind my head and staring up at my bedroom ceiling, I considered how to broach with my mother, the subject of my visiting Aunt Nuala. It was Saturday morning, and I was luxuriating after a delicious lie-in. How best to let my mother know that I'd made up my mind to visit Aunt Nuala, I pondered lazily. It would be weird if I'd explained to Mum I wanted to go see her. That wouldn't sound right. I frowned up at the ceiling. Eventually, I hit upon the simplest idea. I'd just repeat the road trip, more or less, we had done four years ago.

"Hmm," I murmured as I continued to formulate my excuse. I pursed my lips as I sat up and swung my feet out to rest on the floor. "Hmm," I repeated, my mind working.

I began to dress. "Keep it simple," I mumbled to myself, falling back on something I'd been told at work. It's not like I'd have to lie to my mother, well, not much anyway. I'd only recently gotten my first car, so it could be a great excuse to go on a road trip by myself. Mum knew how much I enjoyed driving, so convincing her about my primary motivation wouldn't be a stretch. Plus, I got on well with my uncle Jim, who lived just outside Dublin. I knew he'd want to see me, not having done so since my last visit.