Nandita To Nandini
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The Second Year - And After...Chapter 101 free porn video
Although I slept well on the Sunday night, my recent lack of regular physical activity and the weekend’s unaccustomed strain on my thighs and back meant that my muscles had stiffened up by the Monday morning – so I was in some discomfort as I got out of bed, and had to do some bending and stretching to straighten myself out.
I thought again about what Jen had said about my waning fitness, and solemnly resolved to do more exercise than I was currently doing.
Then I went downstairs and thoroughly enjoyed one of Mrs Loftus’s cooked breakfasts with an extra slice of fried bread to mop up the bacon grease...
The weather at the beginning of the next week was more Arctic than Baltic; strong northerly winds made it decidedly parky outside, and I was glad of my thick donkey jacket. And of the fried bread inside me...
After teabreak, I asked Anita about my holiday entitlement; she got my leave sheet out of her filing cabinet and checked it.
“Let me see. Probationary year so you’ve got four weeks leave a year, twenty days, and you started on the first of September so that’s one third of twenty, six and a bit, and you haven’t used any yet. Now, we shut down Christmas week, so that’s three days taken, and the next week with New Year is three days from this year and one day from next year, so you could just be away for both weeks if you wanted, or you could carry a few days over to next year.”
I looked at the year planner on her office wall and thought about my options for a minute or two. While it would be very good to be able to carry a few days forward to 1976 – I knew that I’d want to go to Jen and Hamish’s graduation in the summer, and there was some flat-hunting to do once Julie moved up north, for example – I didn’t really fancy flogging all the way up from Brighton the weekend after Christmas, just for three days work and then a Bank Holiday followed by a Friday at work when everyone was hungover.
“We’ve been invited to Brighton for Christmas, and it’s a long journey back here. I think it would be more sensible if I took both weeks, please?”
“Okay, you’ve enough days to do that, as long as you don’t want to take any time off before then.”
“I’m not planning to.”
“Not even for Christmas shopping?”
I laughed.
“Me? Shopping?”
She laughed back. I’d heard her talking with some other secretaries about the trials and tribulations of taking their husbands and sons shopping, so I knew I was fitting the local male stereotype.
“So how is your girlfriend ever going to get that ring on her finger?”
“I’ll make a special effort. She’s well worth enduring a few days in a jewellers showroom!”
“Get on with you!”
I thanked her and got back to work.
I did some thinking that afternoon; when I finally did get around to buying Julie our engagement ring, I’d have to do some fairly basic research first. I had no idea where to start – though presumably any half-competent jeweller would have no problem guiding us through the process from start to finish and parting me from a substantial lump of cash!
It was raining for my journey home from work, cold, murky and dark. At least it was warm in the bus, even if there was a strong smell of wet clothing and cigarettes, and the traffic was moving especially slowly.
When I got back to the Loftus’s on Tuesday night after a brisk game of five-a-side football at the Sports and Social Club, there was a thick envelope with an Aberdeen postmark waiting for me. It was a shame that it hadn’t arrived a few days earlier so that I could have taken it down to Bristol, because all six of us were interested in Malcolm and Sian’s news. After eating my tea which Mrs Loftus had kept warm in the oven, I read their letter twice – they were full of their new life, and they’d already bought a second-hand car so they could explore the local area – and then I wrote and included a short note to Julie, sellotaped up the envelope, stuck a new stamp on it, and readdressed it to Winchester so that she could read it for herself, saving me a lot of telephone time.
At lunchtime on Wednesday, I had a good read of the previous day’s “The Gazette”, Teesside’s local newspaper, to see what was on offer in the sports line. It turned out that the Badminton Club were meeting on Highfield Road that evening, so I decided to go along after tea and have a look. They were very friendly and welcoming, the place had a nice atmosphere and there were several families there. I reckoned that Julie and I would make some friends here, so I decided to get myself some kit and give it a go.
That Saturday, I was out of the house well before the milkman knocked to collect his money. I was in the phone box just before 7.30 and dialling the Winchester number, and to my delight Julie picked it up straight away. We talked for a good twenty minutes (thank goodness for lower charges after 6 and at weekends) and I learned that she was planning to nip over to Reading for the night, once Jen and Hamish were back from their swimming match.
Even though I couldn’t be with her, I was delighted. It got her away from a miserable Saturday night in an almost deserted college, and at this time of year there weren’t that many alternatives to watching TV or reading. As a man I could go out to the pub for a jar, or over to the Sports and Social Club, but as a single woman on her own, her options were much more limited if she didn’t want to be hassled or stared at. A night staying with our friends sounded a great option.
“Don’t forget your cossie for swimming in the morning, or are you hoping to be too shagged out to bother?”
She giggled.
“Actually, I’m hoping that going swimming will give Hamish time to recover so that he can go yet again before breakfast!”
“You’re a very wicked girl!”
“I know! Just how you like me. Come to think about it, who was responsible for making me this way?”
“Adrian?”
“No, he’s the reason your sister has turned out to be an incorrigible nymphomaniac. Try again! Who seduced me and took my innocence in the first place?”
I admitted my guilt. God, I missed this girl.
“I could try hopping on a train and joining you?”
I could (almost) hear her lovely smile over the phone.
“Much as I’d love to see you again, it’s too expensive, and it’s a lot of travel for just the one night. We’ll be together again in a fortnight.”
“It’s a shame, but you’re right. Did you get the letter from Sian okay?”
“Yes, thanks, I’ll take it over for Jen and Hamish, and they’ll take it down to the twins next weekend. They sound as if they’re really enjoying Aberdeen!”
“They do, don’t they? That reminds me – you know that I said that I’m going to try and keep fit?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I went along to the badminton club the other night, really nice people, and I’m going to give that a go. I enjoyed it the times we played it at Cardiff, so hopefully that would be a good way to get some exercise.”
My soulmate giggled.
“Er, Jon, darling, I want you to think back to that. Now, exactly which part of playing badminton did you most enjoy? Was it pretending not to be watching Sarah and Monica’s boobs bounce around, or was it not getting caught ogling their legs in those tight shorts, or was it just the chance to letch at all that young and under-clothed first- and second-year tottie running around the sports hall?”
Julie knew full well that I had indeed appreciated the sporty bodies of our downstairs neighbours, even if I’d never made a move to get closer to them. Luckily, I had my wits about me and managed to come up with an acceptably believable reply.
“Oh, none of that, my sweet. It was all about us both needing a bath when we got home!”
She giggled again.
“Yeah, pull the other one – it’s got bells on it!”
“It’s true!”
“Okay, lover, I’ll take your word for it. Thousands wouldn’t. Seriously, that does sound a good idea, and if they are nice, both of us could join the club and play regularly. How seriously do they take it?”
“Oh, I think that it’s as serious as you want it to be. There were quite a few kids around, but they are in a local Cleveland league, so if we get to be any good at it, we could play matches against other clubs.”
“Okay, that could be good. Have you been swimming yet?”
“Over at the Forum? No, not yet. It’s the wrong side of the river, so I haven’t really got around to it. Perhaps I’ll try tomorrow, and then I can think of you in your cossie too!”
“You do that!”
“And don’t forget to give my love to my sister.”
“Of course I will. Tell you what, I’ll get her to sit on my face and I’ll have a good helping of Jen Juice and I’ll drink a toast to you!”
That comment was definitely below the belt, and I told her so, threatening to jump on the train and see her that evening, and sod the cost.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wind you up in that way. We’ll try and have a threesome with you sometime – it’s long past time that we got the Three J’s together again.”
“Yeah, I think I might enjoy that almost as much as you two will.”
“Right, that’s a promise. I’ll talk to Jen.”
We chatted for a few more minutes and then my stock of 10p coins ran out. We said a quick farewell and hung up, she to go for her breakfast, and me to go back to the house for another cup of tea and to plan my shopping expedition.
First up was the bank to draw out some cash, taking another £5 worth of 10p coins to replenish my supply.
Next was the sports shop. No, I wasn’t confident enough in my wish to play Badminton to actually buy a racquet – the club members had said that they would lend me one until I knew that I was going to keep playing – but I owed it to everyone to get some decent shorts and shirts, something my wardrobe had been sadly lacking since the end of compulsory sports at school. The ‘uniform’ seemed to be white shorts and a sleeved tee-shirt, so I bought a couple of each as well as a new pair of white socks to wear in my old plimsoles.
I popped into Woolies for a small bag of pick’n’mix sweets, and had a look at the records charts while I was in there. ‘Queen’ were doing very well with their new “Bohemian Rhapsody” single (despite it being so very different from anything that the other bands were putting out), and from the look of it, Billy Connolly’s spoof “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” and David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” were about to get knocked off the top spots. Without a record player there was no point in me buying anything, though I was thinking of giving Jen and Hamish record tokens if I couldn’t find anything more personal. I had a mischievous moment when I saw that Perry Como’s 40 Greatest Hits was the top selling album, but decided that Mum might not find the joke amusing, unless I gave it to Dad!
Then I did some random window shopping for Christmas presents. Nothing jumped out at me, so I’d have to do some more thinking. I did talk to the Loftus’s after we had watched Doctor Who together. Mr Loftus had a useful suggestion.
“Have you been over to Darlington to look at the market? There are some interesting antique and junk stalls; they might give you an idea or two.”
“Thanks – that might be fun anyway!”
On Sunday 23rd, as it was a dry and sunny day, I took myself off to the beach – well, if anywhere within sight of all the petrochemical plants could be fairly described as a beach – at Redcar. It was cold with a fresh sea breeze, and I walked briskly along the front. I could see that during the summer it could be very pleasant, although my experience of the North Sea told me that it wouldn’t quite be like the sea bathing in Cornwall that Julie and I had enjoyed in the summer.
I must have walked four or five miles southwards until I got to Saltburn, where the coast changed dramatically. The low-lying part where the coast road ran along the top of the dunes lasted until Marske, and then the ground started rising. There is a hint of old sea levels with a flat area under the wooded slope up to Saltburn, and then some genuine cliffs. I wandered down to the pier, which was open but pretty deserted, and then saw the cliff railway.
Now, that was a surprise. It’s the oldest water-powered funicular cliff railway in the world, known locally as the Cliff Lift, and it’s been operating since 1884. There are two cars on parallel tracks, counterbalancing each other with two tanks of water which are filled or emptied as required to make the top car heavier than the bottom car. I happily paid the small fee to get lifted up the 120 feet from the beach to the town, and took a look around.
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