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It’s only when you get past your youth that you can see what your elders were thinking. Not just the wise things they were thinking, but the involuntary human emotions and urges. Like you might find yourself fancying one of your parents’ friends, but you don’t seriously think she’s feeling the same way.Joan and John and their kids were one of a group of five or six families we used to see on the beach at the weekend. The eldest child, Michelle, was pretty in a smiley little-girl way, which doesn’t always turn into beautiful when the hormones arrive. Her Mum, Joan, was a bit overweight and very jokey, not sultry like a boy expects a sexy woman to be. So, on all the Saturdays and Sundays, I saw her on the beach in her unsexy brown one-piece swimsuit, I didn’t have so much as a twinge of desire for her. I was too busy getting soppy about girls my own age, such as Michelle, but then she went to a different school and we lost touch.Eventually, I moved away to university and then working in a different part of the country. Life goes on and I didn’t know what they were up to but I was sowing as many wild oats as I could. Then came the time, at the age of thirty, when I moved back home. What really bothered Akbatı escort bayan me about that was that my hometown hadn’t seemed like a sexy place and I was worried about missing out.Then, one day, I was in a little supermarket on a quiet Wednesday afternoon and it was populated by old ladies and housewives, one of whom, standing in front of me at the checkout, turned and looked at me and there was a flash of lust between us. Then she was gone and I never saw her again, but it demonstrated that I needn’t worry: wherever there were people there were women, and wherever there were women there was the possibility of sex.I got a lowly job in a hotel bar to bring in some money while I looked for something better, and one night there was a big function, a dinner-dance for growers and farmers, and Joan was there. John had supplied equipment such as tractors and so on, and they were part of that general industry. She came up to the bar to buy a drink, recognized me and invited me to her table to chat.As a bartender, you can’t really do that, but I found an excuse, collecting glasses, and crouched by her chair as she told me about how life was after John’s death and how her Escort Aksaray boys now ran the business. She looked quite pretty and smart in her party outfit and she had warm eyes and exuded a sort of welcoming calmness, which was nice, because things hadn’t been going too well and I was short of confidence.My real job was in marketing, so we talked about that and how her business could benefit, and arranged for me to go and see her one evening. It’s not an evening thing usually, but with my shifts and her work, it was convenient.I arrived at Joan’s big bungalow on the coast with a briefcase and a bottle of wine. She led me into a spacious lounge and we sat together on a settee while she showed me her brochure and business cards and I talked about what we could do to give the firm a higher profile. It’s mainly bullshit, but you’ve got to try and sometimes just helping people makes them feel better.After half an hour, all the business was done, or at least I had run out of things to say, so we started drinking the wine and she brought out some olives and peanuts. Her kids had all moved out: Michelle was married to a nice but dull mechanic and the boys were both living Ankara escort with girlfriends.Having established that no one was likely to walk in, she locked the front door and told me she was doing it. Suddenly the whole scenario was different. Joan was casually dressed in a skirt and jumper. She looked like a mature woman who knew what she was doing, but she didn’t act like it. She was nervous and so was I. It was like we both knew something was going to happen but hoped the other would be the instigator.Then suddenly the lights went out and the music stopped. Power cuts were not common, as they had been years earlier, so we decided to check that it wasn’t just the trip switch in the house. Joan found a little torch and we checked the meter cupboard, where all the switches were in the on position.We tiptoed outside to look at the neighbourhood and there wasn’t a light to be seen. So, a general blackout and nothing to worry about. We walked back into the house and found some candles. It was winter, though, and the heating was electrical, so the temperature was dropping fast.We sat back on the settee.“We’ll have to huddle together for warmth,” Joan said with a giggle. “Remember when we all used to sit there on the beach when it was windy and we’d all sit close and the men would make a little fire? And your Dad would always make that joke about rubbing two boy scouts together to make fire.”He was a bit of a card, my Dad, always flirting with the ladies“I’ve got one match left,” Joan whispered.

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