First off, let me say sorry. We've met before although you might not realise it. Last time I was telling you all about my adventures with lonely housewife Helen, but I never got around to introducing myself. My name is Maz. Ok that's not exactly my name but it's what everyone calls me. My real name is Daisy May which I loathe and is something I curse my parents for on a daily basis. Luckily I have one of those ditzy friends who keeps getting their words mixed up and one drunken night in the pub she called me Maisy Day. Everyone, including me, just fell about and it somehow stuck as a name which over time got shortened to Maz.
But enough of me. You had my story last time. This time I want to tell you about Sandra. Hers is an important story as she started the whole back room, Thursday night thing going. I used to have this lovely girlfriend that was everything I could possibly desire but as usual I managed to spoil things big time. I will now admit that we split up because I couldn't keep my hands to myself and I went a little bit crazy for a while over another woman. Looking back, it was so obviously a stupid mistake. Everyone could see it apart from love-struck me. In the end I got dumped and the bitch ran off never to be seen again.
I was in recovery from that disaster and had found myself a new friend. She was new enough to still be uncertain when I first met Sandra. It is all down to her that we have our little meetings once a week in the back room of the pub. She's the sort of matriarch of the group. She's by far the oldest and undoubtedly the nicest by far. I came across her one night when I was out with Trish, the new lady friend but soon to be the latest ex, trying to have a quiet drink and a bite to eat one night.
We found ourselves in a pub in a quiet backstreet near the town centre and settled ourselves into a corner on a table for two. After a while we became aware of the two women at the table next to ours. I had a better view of them than Trish and they began to intrigue me. At first I'd assumed they were a mother and daughter, but little nuances of their body language began to tell a different story. Maybe my gaydar was hyper-sensitive that night. I gave them both the quick once-over. The older of the two was maybe in her late forties, possibly even older and her hair, which was pulled back into a pony-tail, was already grey. Her face was very slightly wrinkled but there was something in her manner and her smile that made her attractive.
Her companion was at least twenty years younger if not more. I guessed at very late teens or very early twenties. She was also petite and unbelievably gorgeous. Together they made a very unlikely couple. Not that I can talk. I'll own up to 42 and Trish was only 26 so it was clear we both had a liking for younger women. I don't know who started it but sometime during dinner we found ourselves chatting with them. Something seemed to click and once the plates were cleared away we rearranged ourselves and dragged the two tables next to each other and settled in for a jolly evening.
She introduced herself as Sandra and her 'friend' was called Naomi and she was as bubbly and giggly as she was pretty. Very soon she and Trish were nattering away like a pair of school-mates and Sandra and I were having a rather more sedate conversation. It soon became obvious that, by some extraordinary stroke of luck, we had bumped into the only other lesbian couple in town. The wine flowed a little too freely and when I stood up the room started to feel a little fuzzy. I think Sandra was feeling pretty much the same as she linked her arm with mine when we got outside, and we supported each other as we walked along. There seemed to be an unspoken arrangement to go back to her place for a nightcap and I wasn't in any state to argue. We walked several paces behind the two girls and the double set of swaying arses was hypnotic and forced us to follow. Sandra leant her mouth close to my ear.
"I see you have the same tastes as me," and she nodded her head in the direction of the two in front.
"You're a very lucky woman," I replied, "yours is absolutely gorgeous."
"You've not done too badly yourself," she said in a quiet whisper and we both giggled. "Do you fancy a bit of fun when we get back to mine?"
I wasn't expecting that but coming as it did through my alcoholic haze it seemed a reasonable question. "What did you have in mind?"
"Not sure but I'm sure we can think of something."
And she fell silent and we spent the rest of the short walk simply admiring the pair of pretty bottoms in front of us. The girls, of course, had no idea that they were the object of our admiration nor that some sort of fun was being plotted that would probably involve them. Suddenly Naomi guided Trish to a front door of a small Victorian terraced house and they waited for us to catch up. The area we were in had been gentrified in more recent times and the houses had probably doubled in value over the last few years. They were all neat and tidy and freshly painted. I found myself standing outside one with a dark mahogany door with a lion's head knocker and a polished brass '44' proudly displayed.
"Welcome to my home," Sandra declared as she held the door open for us to pass. Naomi led us through into a neat, and quite old-fashioned little living room with an archway at one end that led to a thoroughly modern kitchen. Sandra bustled in behind me, now comfortable in her own domain. She went up to Naomi and kissed her on the cheek and asked her to fetch a bottle and some glasses from the kitchen before settling herself on one end of an old-style sofa. She beckoned me and patted the seat beside her. I sat down leaving Trish still standing and looking a little lost in a space near the door.
"Come and sit between us, my dear," she said in a kindly voice.
Trish came over and squeezed onto the sofa. I could tell she felt a little awkward, but we were guests after all, so I kept my peace. Naomi emerged from the kitchen carrying a bottle of white wine and four glasses which she put on a side table. She poured out four drinks which she handed round.
