'The Club' was Annie's idea.
Annie was on her own for a few days. Gerry was away at a conference in Florida. Normally on a Friday night, Annie and Gerry would catch up with a few friends for a glass or two at the pub. But, with Gerry away, on the other side of the Atlantic, she thought she'd probably give the pub a miss.
Michael called just after four. 'We thought we might go to The Oak for a change,' he told her.
'The Oak?'
'Yes. Just for a bit of a change.'
Annie hesitated. 'Umm... Gerry's over in The States,' she told Michael. 'Florida. He's at a conference. He won't be back until next Wednesday.'
'Yeah. I realise that. But I thought that you'd still be coming,' Michael said. 'To the pub, I mean.'
'Oh.' Annie half nodded -- not that Micheal, at the other end of the phone, would have known that. 'Well... umm... yes. I suppose I could,' she said.
'The Oak it is then,' Michael told her in a tone that indicated, that as far as he was concerned, the matter was settled. 'You know The Oak? It's the one with the tree in the courtyard. An oak tree I suppose. Albeit a small one. Don't know what happen when it reaches full size. They'll probably have to demolish the pub.' And he laughed.
'The Oak?' Annie hesitated briefly. And then she said: 'Oh, yes. Next to the cheese shop.'
'That's the one,' Michael said. 'Marion says she should be there by about six.'
'Six? Umm... yes. I can probably do that.'
* * *
When Annie arrived at The Oak, shortly after five-forty-five, Marion was already there. Charles and Louise were there too.
'On the pull,' Charles said, rising from his seat to give Annie a welcoming hug (and allowing his hand to slide down her back and rest on her bum).
'On the pull?'
'Michael tells us that Gerry is swanning it over in the Florida sunshine.'
'Oh. Yes,' Annie said. 'He's at a conference. Not sure how much sunshine he'll get to see.'
'So you're a free woman,' Charles said. 'Play your cards right and you can probably take home that young spunk at the end of the bar.'
Annie laughed. 'I think he might mistake me for his grandmother,' Annie said.
'So? A lot of young men appreciate the charms of an older woman,' Charles told her.
Annie laughed again.
* * *
Ross and Karen were next to arrive. And finally, shortly before seven, Michael joined the group. 'Sorry, folks,' he said. 'I had to have a drink with Sara -- my now-former assistant. It was her last day. She's leaving us.'
'Oh?' Charles said. 'You weren't paying her enough?'
'Apparently not. She's decided to turn her side hustle into a fulltime gig.'
'Oh? And what's her side hustle?'
'Umm... one of those internet subscription things. Not sure which one. You know... a couple of quid for a look at her knickers, and for another five quid she'll let you see what she has hidden underneath.'
Charles laughed. 'Your own fault for hiring women on their looks.'
'That's the thing. It's not that she's especially good looking,' Michael said. 'I mean she's OK. But she's not going to win any beauty contests or anything like that. However, apparently there's a bit of a niche for girl-next-door types. I guess it just goes to show, eh?'
'And she's happy to show,' Charles said.
Michael nodded. 'It would seem so.'
'Can she make a living?'
'She seems to think so,' Michael said. 'But, to be honest, I'm not sure of the finer details. I'm assuming there are expenses. There are always expenses.'
'I take it you've checked out her site,' Marion suggested, looking at her husband with a touch of mock disapproval.
Michael smiled and quickly changed the subject. 'Who's ready for another drink?' he asked.
* * *
When Michael returned to the table with a couple of bottles of the house wine, a rather unpretentious semi-dry white from Puglia, 'the girls' were in conversation about who among them would be prepared to display their wares in exchange for coin of the realm.
'I think I might need more than a fiver,' Karen said.
'How much more?' Marion asked.
'Hmm... I don't know. Fifty? A hundred?' And then she laughed. 'No. Probably not. It might be different if you could select the audience. But I guess it doesn't work that way, does it?'
'I think you just have to take what comes down the line,' Annie suggested. 'If you're hoping to make a living from being an exhibitionist, I suspect it's more a question of quantity of voyeurs you can attract rather than quality.' And then she added: 'Gerry has a cousin who used to write stories for an erotic website. I don't think she made much money out of it. Too many people willing to do it for free.'
'Was she any good?' Karen asked. 'Were her stories any good?'
Annie smiled.
'I think men prefer pictures, don't they?' Marion said.
'Pictures of Lily,' Karen suggested.
Marion frowned. 'Lily? Who's Lily? I thought Michael's woman was Sara.'
'It's a song. The Who. About a kid who has pictures of Lily on his bedroom wall. Helps him to sleep. Something like that anyway,' Karen said. 'You don't remember?'
Marion didn't remember.
* * *
When Annie got home that evening, shortly before nine, her brain was replaying the conversations she had had with her Friday-night friends.
No, she definitely wouldn't be rushing to show off her wares on her own Members Only site (or whatever it was called). Although, that said, she had to acknowledge that somewhere deep within her (no pun intended) there was at least a hint of an exhibitionist. She could just about imagine herself allowing the right person to get a glimpse of that which was generally hidden away.
Michael had already seen most of what there was to see when Annie and Gerry and Michael and Marion had gone skinny-dipping off the boat that the four of them had chartered when they were in Antigua. And, under the right circumstances, she might also be prepared to give Charles a peep. As it was, she felt that he was undressing her with his eyes at pretty much every opportunity he got anyway. And she wouldn't be entirely averse to seeing what Michael and Charles had to show in return.
Annie had had enough to drink at the pub, and the crisps and other snacks had taken the edge off any hunger she may have had, so she took a shower, made herself a cup of hot chocolate, and headed for bed.
Annie had had a busy week and she half expected to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. But it was not to be. The thought of near-naked and fully-naked bodies filled her brain. Where was Gerry when she needed him?
Annie finished the last of her hot chocolate and tried to relax. But then another snippet of the evening's conversation made its way back to her busy brain. 'I think men prefer pictures, don't they?' Was that what Marion had said? Annie enjoyed words. A good erotic story. But she certainly wasn't averse to a bit of visual stimulation either. Did that make her different from other women? She doubted it. Thinking about it now, she wished that she had canvassed her friends when she had had the opportunity.
She knew that Ross and Karen enjoyed the occasional erotic video. Ross had recommended a couple to Gerry. 'Ross thought that you would enjoy this one,' Gerry had said when he had tracked down one of the vids and cued it up for their bedtime viewing.
'Oh? And what made him think that?' Annie had asked.
'Well... he... umm... said that Karen had certainly enjoyed it.' And Gerry had smiled.
Ross had not been wrong. Annie had also enjoyed it. She had enjoyed it very much indeed. And now she found herself enjoying the memory of it. Even before she had decided that the only way she was going to get to sleep that night was by jilling to a satisfying orgasm, her fingers were beginning to trawl her soft cuntal valley.
* * *
On Wednesday, Gerry returned from Florida via Philadelphia, landing at Heathrow just after 8:30 in the morning. He took the Heathrow Express into Paddington and then, while waiting for a cab, he called Annie to let her know that he was safely back on terra firma. 'It was a short night,' he told Annie. 'I think I'll just go into the office for a couple of hours, and then I'll sneak home for a nap.'
'Good idea,' Annie said. 'I might try and get away a bit early this afternoon. I'll make us something nice for an early supper. And then she added: 'And then perhaps... well... let's just say that I've missed you.'