Thankfully my Mother never heard me come in that night nor my sobs as I drifted off to sleep. She did however find my little black dress when she poked her head around the door in the morning and tutted when she saw the snags and pulls on the back of it. My heart froze as my mind shot back to being pressed up against that rough brick wall, with the dress rucked up around my hips and Bill driving his cock into me. I mumbled something about slipping over; so Mum said I should be more careful before she picked it up and told me she'd see about taking it back to the shop and getting it changed for a new one. Later that morning I nervously went through the wash basket and checked it for cum stains. Thankfully there weren't any!
I remember going to Church that Sunday and praying to God. Praying that I wasn't a lesbian. It seems laughable looking back now, but the anguish I was feeling at the time was terrible. I avoided going out for weeks, dodged phone calls - even from Jenny - and tried to concentrate on being the girl I wanted to be: hard working, honest and pure. I threw myself into finding a job and told myself that the last few months had been an awful mistake and that perhaps - if I was good - I could start again and one day meet a boy, get married and it would be like I was still a virgin all over again.
After two or three weeks of sitting in front of the TV with Mum on weekends I began to weaken. My Mum began to nag me, asking me why I wasn't going out and why wasn't I returning any of my friends phone calls?
At night, alone in bed, my mind often drifted back to Spain; back to Cliff, his cock and all those dirty things he said to me. My fingers would slip between my legs and, eyes shut tightly, I'd live those moments again until I silently orgasmed over my flicking fingertips.
Then Jenny came around to see me. Not so much out of concern for me but more to tell me what she's been up to. Her big news was that a few of the Scots lads were coming down for a visit, including her 'boyfriend' Fraser and the guy who'd been writing to me, Keith. Jenny pleaded with me to at least pretend to like him, but I surprised her by saying I didn't mind. He'd been polite and kind to me on holiday and, now I'd said to myself I was going to be a 'good girl', Keith was exactly the type of boy I should be spending my time with from now on.
I was uneasy about asking how her recent weekend had went as I didn't want to talk about Fraser and have her ask me what I thought of him. At the same time I couldn't say anything that would look odd too. I was in a constant state of worry, thinking whether Jenny would work out that I'd had sex with her boyfriend. As it turned out, she was pretty quiet about her time in Scotland so I didn't press her further. Some of the girls told me later that her whole weekend had been spent in bed in bed with Fraser in the hotel. They met nobody else and never went out. I said nothing but thought that a little strange and understood why she seemed a little disappointed.
A week later the Scots lads arrived, checking into a Hotel and arranging to meet us all in a Pub nearby. In his last letter Keith, who had driven half of the lads down in his car, had already told me he would pick me up at 7.30. While I was in the shower, the doorbell rang. It was only 6.30 and he was here... a full hour early! I could hear the mumble of conversation downstairs as I got ready and I remember wondering what on earth Keith and my Mum would be talking about. When I finally popped my head into the kitchen I found them talking about, of all things, religion. Keith, it turned out was an enthusiastic Presbyterian, which my devoutly Catholic Mother found fascinating. To add to my surprise, as we went out to the car my Mother whispered in my ear that he was a "lovely boy", that I was welcome to ask him in for a cup of tea when we came back and that in future he was welcome to stay with us and not to go spending his money on hotel rooms!
We all met up at a trendy bar in town and then went onto a nightclub. Keith was the butt of several of his friend's jokes but was able to handle it. I caught Fraser's eye a few times but quickly turned away. It was a pretty uneventful evening, nothing like the wild nights out with the girls I'd been experiencing in the weeks before, but that suited me. I stayed relatively sober and was happy to leave with Keith, even when some of the others talked about going back to the hotel 'for a party' as we all left the club.
Keith drove me home and, as my Mother had given her approval, I asked him in for a cup of tea. The lights were off as I opened the door. Mum must have gone to bed. I showed Keith into the living room and a few minutes later, brought in two cups of tea. We sat next to each other on the sofa, quietly chatting away with the radio playing softly in the background. Up until his point Keith had acted the perfect gentleman; no leading comments, no looking down my top, not even a squeeze when we were dancing. I was pleased he was like this; not like the other guys I'd been with but now, sitting here alone, I began to feel a little puzzled.
'Does he fancy me at all?' I thought to myself. 'Maybe he just sees me as a friend?'
I can't really explain why I did what I did next as it was completely out of character. Maybe it was mischief or curiosity but as he spoke, I looked deep into his blue eyes and started to have thoughts about him. Dirty Thoughts.
A little devil inside me came alive and I changed the subject.
"Keith" I said slowly "did you enjoy tonight, being with me I mean?"
"Aye" he replied in a broad Scots accent; "I've 'hud' a great night. How do ye mean?"
My mind was ticking over. I wanted him to 'do' something, say something at least. Much as I liked the idea of being a good girl and having a boyfriend who respected me, the reality of it wasn't what I wanted at all. Keith still wasn't taking the bait so, playing the innocent, I continued.
"Its just, I don't know, I wonder sometimes if you really like me?" I coyly asked.
Keith put down his cup of tea and held my hand. He looked at me and said in his soft Scottish accent
"Oh Kathleen, I adore you"
It was the loveliest thing anyone had ever said to me (and, looking back, still is) and I stared back at him, waiting for him to lean towards me and kiss me but he didn't. I hesitated, not wanting to be the one to make the first move but now genuinely perplexed at what to do next.
"Really" I replied, half-touched by what he'd said, half-thinking what to do next. "Its just, you know, its hard to tell........." I left the sentence unfinished.
He held both my hands.
