February
It was on Candlemas Day just
after the Sunday morning service had ended at St Clara’s when he spotted her,
and he thought for a woman of her age she had a particularly nice figure.
She had just come down the
steps from the Church and had stopped to converse with friends.
At the time he was leaning
against the wall opposite the Church having attended the service himself.
He was not a devout Christian
himself, but he attended every week because that was how he was raised and old
habits die hard, and he often lingered outside the Church on a Sunday morning.
It might sound very wrong,
but he would be the first to admit that he got a kick out of ogling all the
Christian women in their Sunday best.
He knew the lady slightly; her name was Shelagh Marks and they
were
both members of the same sailing club.
She was not necessarily a
wealthy woman by all accounts, but she was comfortably off, which was
self-evident by the way she was dressed, though her financial status was of
secondary concern to him.
Everything Shelagh wore was
quality and she was always immaculately turned out, so he was quite surprised
on that day to see her standing chatting on the pavement wearing of all things,
leggings, expensive, good quality leggings, but leggings, nonetheless.
His surprise quickly abated
though as he looked at the exquisite fit and was just thinking to himself that
she had a very nice rump when she shifted her body weight from one leg to the
other and turned slightly towards him just as a beam of sunlight fell upon her,
or at least the part of her he was looking at, and as it illuminated her hind
quarters it revealed as clear as day her big black knickers underneath the
exquisitely fitted leggings.
It was at that point he
decided to chance his arm; after her conversation was over, he went over to
talk to her.
“Shelagh?” he said
“Oh hello” she replied, “Mr. Symons, isn’t it?”
“Please call me Lee,” he said
“Lee” she complied
After which they chatted
about the Sailing Club and the upcoming Regatta.
“You must be in with a chance
of winning a medal” he said “A sailor of your standard”
“Oh, dear me” she said all
flustered “I don’t know about that”
And having duly flattered her
to the point of blushing he invited her to lunch which she graciously accepted.
He was confident that she
would, after all a woman of her age would always be at the very least flattered
by the attention of a younger man especially one 9 years younger.
He’d always been attracted to
older women, not too much older five or ten years normally.
But of course, by the time he
reached his 40s there seemed to be an overabundance of suitable candidates for
his lust, widows mainly, which kept him gainfully employed.
They had had a very pleasant
lunch, which consisted of three courses, two bottles of wine and an abundance
of flirting, at Philips Folly, from where, after plying her with liberal
amounts of wine he offered to take her home to St Giles on his boat which was moored
in Spaniards Creek.
“It was a very nice lunch Lee,”
she said as he took her by the hand and helped her aboard the vessel. “Thank
you”
“My pleasure” Lee said
He had further pleasure after
he had her settled in the cabin where he
liberated her from her expensive leggings and then to their mutual
delight, he tugged the big black knickers off her classy, widowed rump.
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