The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 17g: The Batting Order Ch. 07
(Copyright 2002. All rights reserved).
All events and characters are fictitious.
Part 7.
Jenny.
The atmosphere in the car had been strained during the short drive to the cricket field. I sat in the front beside Mary, Paul's mother, not trusting Lynda to leave my body alone if I had sat in the back with her. Or was that me leaving her alone?
Paul came across to the car as we climbed out. I made a big show out of kissing him, hopefully conveying the impression to Mary that I was as heterosexual as she was. His hand slipped behind my back and squeezed one of my ass cheeks.
"Just wait until I get you alone." I whispered in his ear.
"Hmm." He replied.
"You told your mother we would work on her stalls."
"Oh." He moved back and held me at arm's length with his hands upon my hips. "I diddn't." He stammered, he always had trouble speaking when he was nervous. "My mother told me."
"You will help her out. Won't you?" He continued. "She's terribly short of helpers."
He could look dejected when he wanted too. I had to smile at him. He beamed back and pulled me close, crushing my breasts against his chest.
"Come along Jenny." Mary called from the corner of the pavilion. "I would like you to run the bar in here for the members and teams."
She and Lynda were heading towards the main marquee.
That wasn't too bad. It wouldn't be very busy and Paul would be with me when he wasn't either batting or fielding.
Talking about Paul. I could feel his prick growing hard against my pubic mound.
"Coming." I called to her, pulling my body from his prick, looking down at it and then up into his face.
"This is not the time or the place." I admonished, in my best, soon to be a teacher voice.
"Sorry." He mumbled. "I can't help it."
"Control it, you mean."
"I must go." I continued. "Make it go down and I'll look after it for you tonight."
I suddenly felt quite brazen. I don't think I had ever said anything like that to Paul before. He looked a little shocked.
"Be good." I said and turned away, hurrying to the pavilion entrance.
Inside I saw Stephanie standing behind the bar.
"I'm glad you are here." She said, handing me the key to the small cash box that I knew would be under the bar. "I must go and make sure the main bar in the marquee is set up and let my Dad go back to the Pub."
"You have a twenty pounds float." She continued heading towards the door. "Thank you for helping out."
I went behind the bar. I could hear voices from the visitor's dressing room where the opposition was changing. Some of their supporters were standing facing me, expectant looks upon their faces.
"I'll be with you in a minute," I said, looking behind the bar to see what stock I had and where everything was.
Steph was well organised. There was a list of drinks and their prices behind the bar, underneath the cash box and another stuck to the wall for the customers to see. I opened the cash box, took a deep breath and lifting my head said.
"Who's first."
*********************************************
Shirley
I pulled up outside Paul's parent's house in Jenny's VW Beetle. He'd left the front door ajar for me. He didn't want me to spend too much time on the front doorstep while he answered the door to me. Not that any of his neighbours would be likely to comment. They knew it was his daughter-in-laws car and I was still a fairly regular visitor.
I climbed out from behind the steering wheel and locked the door behind me. Hurrying across the gravel and up the three steps between the two stone columns I entered the house and closed the door behind me. I was already breathing heavily. I leaned back against the door and took two deep breaths.
"David?" I called out softly.
"Up here," came his reply.
I looked up the staircase and saw him standing by the door of the master bedroom. He was dressed in his bathrobe. He certainly didn't want to hang about.
"Come up." He said.
I mounted the stairs and climbed towards him. Yes, he was waiting for me. The closer I came the more obvious was the bulge in the front of his bathrobe.
I stopped and stood in front of him. Was this the time to tell him I wanted it to end? He was pulling me close. His hands were on the backside of my jeans. His lips against mine, his tongue pushing between them, filling my mouth.
What was I doing here? His hands were roaming over my back, pulling my blouse from the waistband of my jeans. I pushed him away.
"No." I said.