I should, first of all, acknowledge my gratitude that Jack Winstanley gave me a job.
I had been on Maggie Thatcher’s lousy unemployment benefit since leaving school six months earlier when, out of the blue, old Jack offered a plumbing apprenticeship. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but now I suspect he may have been pressurised by his friend Syd Hollingworth, the local butcher. Syd had been going out with my mother for several months and I was getting under their feet. Twice,
I came home to find them in bed together.
So, I was delighted to be earning a wage and out of the house. However, unblocking drains in winter is no fun; nor was the Winstanleys’ sense of humour.
Jack ran the business with his son, Alex. Aged about 60 and 35 respectively, they regarded themselves as Morecambe and Wise’s natural successors, though they were as comical as cholera and dysentery.
Their favourite joke was to dispatch me on a fool’s errand. I had been working less than a week when they sent me to a plumbers’ merchant in Skipton seeking a left- handed spanner. A month later, it was a dozen sky hooks, then a tin of elbow grease.
If it had been a crude initiation ceremony confined to a few wind-ups, I wouldn’t have minded. Unfortunately, it was never-ending.
* * *
I had been with them for a year when I was told to go and see a new customer at an address Alex provided. It turned out to be a boarding kennel and, upon enquiring about Mr Sation, I was curtly told to bugger off.
‘How was Al?’ a chortling Jack asked when I returned.
I learned it was a reliable indication of being set up for yet another episode of Winstanley buffoonery when they sent me off to a job alone in the company van. They would never have trusted me with a serious engagement on my own. Therefore, I was suspicious when, early one morning, Alex proclaimed brightly to his father, ‘I think we should send Rory around to check Jessica.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jack asked, with obvious misgivings.
‘Jessica’s a widow living out at Burnsall,’ Alex informed me, with a worrying smirk. ‘She lives in a posh house – it was converted from a huge barn and we did all the plumbing. We visit her occasionally to make sure all’s running smoothly. You can go see her today.’
‘Alex is always keen to look after Jessica.’ Jack muttered, then drew a map of the route to her residence 20 miles away and tossed me the van keys.
Nowadays, whenever anybody suggests I am privileged to have been raised in the Yorkshire Dales, I nod. But throughout my early years, I took the beauty of the area for granted. Though the clear summer’s day made the landscape particularly glorious, I was fully focused on the road to Burnsall and what I might encounter there.
I considered numerous possibilities before determining that Jessica must be a bad-tempered, reclusive, wizened, crazy old spinster who’d wildly abuse me. I then asked myself, would the Winstanleys really find that sufficiently amusing to send me all the way out here?
Eventually, my destination came into view. As Jack stated, it was a large, grand house situated at the end of a long, narrow, twisting lane. Trees obscured most of the building and it was not until I got close that the adjacent swimming pool become apparent. As I parked the van opposite the front door, I noticed, with a start, the figure of a lone naked woman lying face down, sunbathing on a towel by the pool.
I sat transfixed, gripping the steering wheel, anxiously pondering my next move. Having decided to restart the engine and slip quietly away, I was dismayed when the woman suddenly looked up and, remaining on her stomach, signalled me to wind the window down.
I was 19 and, as I had never seen any nude female outside a magazine before, my heart beat furiously, my mouth became dry and my entire body trembled.
The van window was fully open when I heard her shout ‘Please look away!’ Meekly, I did so.
I was still facing the opposite direction when I heard her again, this time much closer. ‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded in a strange accent.
I looked tentatively towards her. She was now just a yard away, wearing a lavishly coloured silk robe.
‘Mr Winstanley the plumber sent me,’ I stammered, unable to control my shaking. ‘He told me to look in and ask if your plumbing was OK.’
‘If it wasn’t, I would have contacted him,’ she spat, with arms folded. ‘And for God’s sake, stop quivering. This is the third time I have been disturbed recently by unsolicited tradesmen. Whenever the weather becomes decent enough for sunbathing, one appears. Can you explain this?’
I shook my head, looking downwards.
‘I suppose you’re taking turns to gawp at the strange foreign lady who sunbathes in the nude?’ Her tone was becoming more intense. ‘Who did you say sent you? Winstanley the plumber? Is he 30-odd, balding, thin and looks like a weasel? ‘
‘That might have been Alex,’ I conceded. ‘He and his father run the business.’
‘He came here in spring. I told him to ring before visiting again. Since then, I have had men sneaking around whenever we get decent weather. I am considering calling the police.’
Panicking, I sat upright, looked her in the eye and pleaded, ‘Don’t do that, lady. I didn’t mean to spy on you, honestly. This is the Winstanleys’ practical joke. They’re always playing them on me.’
Her hard gaze was relentless, as I slunk in the driver’s seat. ‘They do this kind of thing often?’ she enquired.
Breathlessly, I catalogued all the other times the Winstanleys had made me look foolish. As I did, her anger melted.
‘How childish and stupid,’ she noted with sympathy and bewilderment. ‘Do they pay your wages for the time you spend away?’
‘Yes,’ I confirmed. ‘I am only away for an hour or so.’
Her frown quickly evaporated to be replaced by a thoughtful grin. ‘Well, this time should be different. If they sent you on a fool’s errand, let’s turn them into the fools. They’ll lose their appetite for such gross idiocy if it’s costing them a day’s wages. What’s the time?’
‘Half past ten,’ I noted from my watch.
‘Right, I suggest you spend the rest of the day relaxing here and I’ll tell the Winstanleys you were working throughout it. Are you agreeable?’
‘I suppose so,’ I replied woodenly.
Her smile widened. ‘You look hot and bothered. Would you like to go for a swim? I have swimming trunks in the house which will fit you. My name is Jessica, by the way.’
Jessica held out her hand, which I shook limply, hoping she didn’t detect my trembling.
‘I’m Rory,’ I volunteered.
‘Right, Rory, I’ll find those trunks.’
I watched her glide into the house and stayed seated, collecting my thoughts.
For the first time, it occurred to me how beautiful Jessica was. I had inadvertently been captivated by her breathtaking body as she lay alongside the pool, but only now did my mind absorb her divine face, crowned by long, black, silky hair.
All male teenage virgins dream of moments like this. But now that it had, through a fluke, eventuated, I felt petrified.
However, by the time Jessica reappeared carrying the swimming trunks, I had resolved that, whatever happened, I wasn’t going to make a clown of myself. Instead, I was determined to impress her!
‘These were my late husband’s,’ she announced, holding them up. ‘They might be too large for you, but
I can make adjustments. Do you want to go inside and try them on?’
‘Will you be wearing a costume?’ I enquired with an assurance which belied my nervousness.
‘I hadn’t intended to.’
‘Then neither will I.’
‘I was hoping you would say that,’ she said, exposing immaculate white teeth. ‘Let’s go for that swim.’
I followed her to the pool. Without so much as a backward glance, she discarded her robe and dived in.
While Jessica floated on her back watching me,
I fumbled about, undressing. My last item of clothing was an old-fashioned pair of white underpants, a Christmas present from Mum. I feared Jessica would laugh at them but she maintained her serene expression as the hated garment sank to my ankles. I noted, with further relief, that her eyes widened upon seeing my dick.
Suddenly filled with confidence, I dived in and swam blindly underwater to where she was located. However, when I spluttered to the surface, I found her now on the opposite side of the pool, watching me thoughtfully.
‘What is she expecting me to do?’ I asked myself, confused once more, and swam to a position ten yards from Jessica.
Her expression had changed again and I detected a look of disdain as she moved towards the pool ladder.
‘Everything OK?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Fine,’ she answered. ‘The water’s too cold. I prefer sunbathing and the forecast is for showers this afternoon, so I don’t want to waste time. Stay in there if you like.’
My eyes followed Jessica. The buttocks of her fleshy, gloriously rounded arse bobbed as she climbed the steps. She then moved with feline elegance to a towel, picked it up – sumptuous breasts swooping – lay down, closed her eyes, and motionlessly surrendered to the sun.
Assuming she was now oblivious to me, I stared at this glorious vision just yards away. For the first time, I was able to survey her closely. Jessica, I speculated, would be over 30 and totally different from the Playboy models
I drooled over. She was certainly plumper than them in every area, but totally exhilarating.
Her light brown skin, almond eyes and strange speech made me realise she came from far away. Asia, I mused to myself, still frozen in admiration when she spoke.
‘Like what you see?’ Jessica asked, with a slight hint of annoyance.
‘Sorry,’ I gurgled in embarrassment. ‘I really didn’t mean to stare.’
‘I should be flattered. But don’t get into the habit of ogling girls. Some will think it rude.’
‘Sorry,’ I repeated.
Her tone softened. ‘Aren’t you cold? Come and enjoy the sun with me. It won’t last long. More towels are over by the fence.’
Ponderously, I left the pool, claimed a towel, placed it alongside Jessica’s and lay down.
I had never been one for sunbathing – seeking a suntan in Yorkshire is usually as fruitless as trying to catch salmon in the Leeds-Liverpool Canal. Nonetheless, I felt utterly content sprawling naked, the gentle heat of midsummer caressing me. Closing my eyes, I drifted away.
‘I wouldn’t fall asleep,’ Jessica warned me brusquely. ‘With your pale, white skin you’ll get sunburned and
I don’t have any sunscreen. I never need it.’
Looking down at my body, I saw several portions
of it had already turned pink. ‘You’re probably right,’
I frowned. ‘Do you think I should get dressed?’
At that instant, the skies darkened. I looked up to see the sun obliterated by the edge of a large dark cloud creeping southward.
‘I don’t think we’ll have much more opportunity for sunbathing today anyway,’ Jessica remarked, getting to her feet and looking at me.
‘Stand up, Rory,’ she commanded. ‘We’ll have to find other ways to amuse ourselves.’
Gingerly, I got to my feet. Abruptly, Jessica grabbed my dick, held it tightly, produced her widest beam and marched towards the house, with me firmly in her grip.
I trotted to keep up.
The front door was open and she steered me through it and into an opulent hall. Together, we climbed the stairs, with me fervently hoping I wouldn’t slip and grievously hurt myself.
Only when we reached her bedroom, did Jessica release me. Giggling, she lay on her wide, luxurious bed and beckoned me with open arms. Then, glancing with concern at my drooping penis, she patted the space alongside her. ‘Lie here and relax. You are far too tense.’
Jessica was right. For as long as I could remember,
I had yearned for sex with a woman. Now the opportunity had arisen, but I hadn’t. Incredibly nervous and overawed, I looked down in shame at my dick, which was limp as a dead haddock.
After I lay down, Jessica gently placed her arms around me, gave me a reassuring hug and nuzzled against my cheek. I felt her pubic hair brushing against my thigh and her stiffened nipples probing into my back.
‘Relax, relax,’ she cooed, her right hand stretching for my stubbornly flaccid dick. This time she fingered it gently, then her left hand began to fondle my balls.
‘Relax, Rory,’ she repeated. ‘This is the most wonderful, natural thing in the world. There’s nothing to be anxious about.’
Slowly, the tension eased. I felt a strange inward stirring as my cock responded to the velvety caress.
Her featherlike fingertips moved languidly over my balls, progressed to the tip of a now rapidly swelling cock and then retraced their path downwards. Soon my dick was thrusting upwards like a rhino horn.
Delighted with her handiwork, Jessica released me and eagerly manoeuvred herself to squat over my rigid tool, which she grabbed once more – vigorously this time – and placed against her vaginal lips.
She paused for a moment and then lowered herself.
I gave a deep, involuntary and noisy gasp, overwhelmed by intense ecstasy. My more worldly friends had told me how fantastic sex was but it had never occurred to me that it could be as incredible as this.
Noticing the look on my face, Jessica smirked knowingly. Sinking further down, she also groaned in delight and began pinching her nipples.
‘Isn’t this better than unblocking drains?’ she asked, as I silently savoured every delicious second.
Jessica lifted her thighs until nearly all of my cock was exposed and then rammed herself down again. ‘Oh God!’ I exclaimed, wriggling in helpless glee as our pubic hairs met. ‘This is unbelievable.’
She now had all her weight on my groin and remained motionless. ‘You have the makings of a good lover, Rory,’ she whispered before raising herself once more.
And then, to my horror, I suddenly climaxed. Instantly, Jessica jerked herself upright, but too late. We both watched in despair as my penis coughed and wilted.
‘Oh shit!’ I exclaimed, overcome with disappointment and embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry.’
Jessica’s look of dismay was brief. ‘Never mind,’ she muttered. ‘It was good while it lasted. And that often happens when you make love for the first time. That was your first time, wasn’t it?’
I nodded sheepishly.
She glanced at the nearby clock.
‘Well, we still have a few hours to kill,’ she noted. ‘Tell me something about yourself.’
My life story was completed in less than five minutes. She enthralled me with hers, though. Originally from a small Pacific island, Jessica had won an American university scholarship, graduated and managed hotels in Los Angeles. It was there that she had met the English millionaire who’d married her and then died of a heart attack just six months later.
It was well past five o’clock when I returned to the workshop. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ demanded an angry Alex.
‘You know damn well where he’s been,’ Jack exclaimed grimly. ‘You should be more concerned at what he’s done and how you’re going to tell his mother about your sordid role in it all.’
‘Mrs Shaw had a lot of jobs for me,’ I responded nonchalantly. ‘She asked me to give you this note.’
I dug into my pocket, retrieved a letter Jessica had provided – ensuring I didn’t confuse it with the note on which her phone number was scrawled – and then handed it to Jack.
Looking uneasy, he grasped the letter and read it aloud. ‘Dear Mr Winstanley,’ he commenced. ‘I was surprised to learn that your business offers a free maintenance service and delighted to utilise it. Rory worked very hard on all matters requiring attention. I was pleased with his standard of workmanship. However, in future, please advise me in writing, at least one week in advance, before you conduct your next check. Yours Sincerely, Jessica Shaw.’
Jack handed the letter to his son. ‘What do you make of that?’ he asked.
‘God knows,’ Alex said after reading the letter. ‘I’ll need to think about it over a pint tonight.’
‘Maybe,’ Jack snorted. ‘But, one thing’s for certain. This’ll be the last practical joke in the company’s time you’ll be playing for a while.’
* * *
Returning to work the following morning, I found both Winstanleys in a very subdued mood. In contrast, I was whistling brightly.
‘What exactly happened yesterday?’ Jack enquired.
‘Just as Mrs Shaw said in her letter,’ I answered.
‘I fixed up a few problems with her plumbing. Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?’
‘And just what were those problems?’ Alex asked pointedly.
‘A couple of leaks, and there were some washers that needed replacing too.’
‘Really?’ Alex sneered. ‘Well, I’ve looked in your tool box and you still have exactly the same number of washers that you set out with.’
‘Mrs Shaw supplied her own washers,’ I hurriedly lied, feeling myself turn red.
Alex shook his head. ‘Jessica Shaw is not the type of woman to keep a supply of spare washers.’
‘And just what kind of a woman is she?’ I queried.
‘She’s nothing but a slag, pure and simple. Everyone knows that.’
‘Steady on, Alex!’ Jack protested. ‘Mrs Shaw has a reputation, certainly, but I’m not sure it’s totally justified.’
He then turned to me. ‘Jessica married Harry Shaw, a local businessman about 20 years her senior, back in the 1970s. Nobody had been aware of her before the wedding. Apparently, they met while he was in America just two months earlier. So naturally, tongues wagged and everybody called her a gold digger behind her back. Soon after, Harry died and Jessica inherited all his money.’
‘She was so distraught after his death, she wore black for ages,’ Alex chipped in. ‘Black miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, black suspender belts and a black boob tube!’
‘That’s nonsense!’ Jack snapped.
‘Maybe, but there’s a constant stream of men visiting that house of hers. In Burnsall, they call her The Widow of Opportunity!’
‘If that were the case, it just underlines what a dumb idea it was sending Rory up there alone,’ an increasingly angry Jack bellowed. ‘And I don’t recall you ever being invited to her house.’
Alex’s face dropped. ‘I’d better get away and do that job over in Bolton Abbey,’ he mumbled.
The Winstanleys never mentioned Jessica again. Nor did they play any more banal tricks on me.
I couldn’t get Jessica out of my mind, though – in fact, I became totally besotted by her. Even so, it took me several weeks to pluck up courage and ring the number she’d given me.
‘Yes, of course, you can come around,’ she said in a matter-of-fact way, obviously having expected my call to come, sooner or later.
We both understood that this second visit was purely for sex and hardly a word had passed before we were silently embracing each other in bed.
This time, I felt much more at ease. An erection came immediately and naturally. Eagerly, I climbed on top of Jessica and was about to embed my impatient cock when she clamped her legs together.
‘Just a moment,’ she protested. ‘This isn’t just to fulfil your adolescent fantasy. I expect a little pleasure too!’
‘Of course,’ I replied blankly.
‘Kiss my nipples,’ she instructed.
Jessica lay back expectantly and, lowering my head, I began to gingerly kiss her left nipple; then, instinctively, began to suckle it like a baby.
‘Gently,’ she pleaded.
Feeling it stiffen in my mouth, I began to lick it. She softly moaned and, glancing upwards, I felt elation to see the contentment on her face.
‘Now the other one,’ Jessica indicated, while tenderly fingering my rigid dick.
I switched my attention to the right nipple and it hardened too.
‘Place your hand between my legs,’ she murmured and I began clawing at her now-moist vagina.
‘Too rough,’ Jessica protested. ‘Leave that to me.’
I withdrew my hand and focused again on the left nipple, as Jessica caressed her clitoris.
Eyes the size of old half-crowns, her breathing intensified and her entire body quivered. ‘Now!’ she demanded.
Eagerly, I flopped on Jessica, entered her, and lunged, lunged, then lunged again. Intense pleasure engulfed me as I continued to thrust wildly. With every jab, Jessica’s gasps became louder. Grabbing my arse tightly, she began shrieking. I felt her entire body shake violently beneath me and then, moments later, relax with a long, hugely satisfied murmur. Slowly, her panting subsided.
That’s when I came, with a divine euphoria I had never previously experienced. Inhaling and smiling with glorious fulfilment, I arched my back and withdrew a glistening cock.
We lay alongside each other, silent and contented, for several minutes.
‘That was wonderful,’ Jessica eventually exclaimed, before sitting upright. Then she announced, casually,
‘I am moving to Los Angeles next month. Would you like to come too?’
As you can imagine, Mum was distraught when I told her I was going to America but, luckily for me, Syd welcomed it as a unique chance to get me out of the way.
‘It’s the opportunity of a lifetime for the boy,’ he insisted over the dinner table one evening after showing up unexpectedly with fillet steak.
‘I don’t know, Syd,’ Mum fretted. ‘He’s never been out of Yorkshire before.’
‘Then it’s about time he saw a bit more of the world. And you know what the economy is like here. I spoke to Jack Winstanley this morning. He’s struggling like the rest of us and gave me the impression he’s considering letting Rory go after he completes his apprenticeship, as he can’t afford to pay the full tradesman’s rate. And am I right, Rory, that Mrs Shaw has a job guaranteed for you as a swimming pool repair contractor?’
I nodded my head.
‘But I’ve heard so many things about Mrs Shaw,’ Mum whispered anxiously.
‘They’re absolute nonsense!’ Syd snorted. ‘I spoke to Jessica on several occasions when she accompanied Harry to the cricket club. She’s a lovely lady who I’m sure only has Rory’s best interests at heart.’ He then winked at me as Mum momentarily lowered her eyes. ‘And he’s 19 years old now, a grown man. At the end of the day, he can do what he likes.’
‘That might be correct,’ Mum sighed. ‘But, I can’t help but worry about what would happen if he ever got stranded over there.’
Syd stuck out his chest. ‘Tell you what I’ll do, Mary. Before he goes, I’ll buy him an open-dated return-flight ticket to London. Will that ease your mind?’
That did indeed placate Mum and it was with glee that, the next day, I handed in my notice to the Winstanleys. Alex couldn’t resist a parting shot, though.
‘Do you realise you’ve got to fill in immigration forms when you arrive in America?’ he asked. ‘Will you put “toyboy” down as your occupation?’
Several others insisted upon making similarly snide remarks, so I was greatly relieved when the date of my departure came around.
Jessica had arranged to meet me at Heathrow’s checking-in area and I spent an anxious hour there before I spotted her sweeping through the terminal amid a huge pile of luggage.
As she approached, I noticed two blokes my age aiding her with the suitcases.
‘Have you met Rod and Andy?’ Jessica asked.
‘No,’ I answered expressionlessly.
‘Rod was an apprentice with Bullocks, the electrician in Silsden, and Andy drove the delivery van for Tunnicliffe’s Bakery,’ she gleamed. ‘I’m sure you’ll have plenty in common.’
Eyeing each other with suspicion and dismay, Rod, Andy and I exchanged silent nods.
‘I’ll leave you boys to check in while I find the area for first class passengers,’ Jessica purred. ‘You’ll all have the time of your lives in America!’
She was right. We did have the time of our lives and one day, I might tell you about it.