My first attempt at writing something on here. It's planned to be a series of episodes about a woman finding her way after her divorce. Unfortunately it's a downward spiral into some pretty dark places, largely hidden from her family and friends. Anyway we'll see how it goes. I'd appreciate any positive feedback, but don't make it anonymous.
The genre may vary between episodes.
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The immediate years after my divorce were pretty tough. I kept the marital house for a few years, but it eventually became too expensive to run. I managed to keep my business going working from home and Jon and I got to the stage where we finally agreed to sell the house in order to afford a smaller one which would be cheaper to keep going, and he moved into a smaller flat with his new woman.
My house was big enough for me and Jake, my teenage son, and I was really lucky with the neighbours. On one side, there were the Richardsons, a couple in their late sixties, and on the other were Debbie and Tom, a couple around my age in their late forties, early fifties.
I got on well immediately with Debbie. Physically she was very different to me. Tall, slim, auburn hair, a few freckles, and generally a figure that men noticed.
I was average height, average figure, average most things, but blonde, with a pair of rather nice breasts, although I say so myself.
Tom was Debbie's second husband so she knew all about the trauma of divorce and balancing a budget. He was over six feet, salty grey hair, quite muscular and fit, as his regular trips to the gym would testify.
Within weeks we were having coffee together most days. She was a hairdresser, sometimes working out of her house and sometimes visiting clients in their own homes.
I was an accountant, having set up my small business a few years before my split.
"When does Jake go to university?" Debbie asked one morning as we shared a coffee.
"If he gets his grades then at the end of September." I replied rather wistfully.
"You'll miss him," Debbie was watching the expression on my face.
"Yes, but it's best for both of us, he can spread his wings, and not be 'mothered,' and I can have my freedom."
I smiled and added, "Not that freedom generally means much to me."
Debbie chuckled, "You can finally get yourself a man!"
I looked up and grimaced, "You think so? All that emotion, fretting, dating the unknown, I haven't had a man since... well I'm not going to admit it to you!"
Debbie burst out into giggles, "You're serious aren't you, how can you live without sex?"
"Very easily, just a regular supply of batteries!"
We both erupted in laughter with Debbie adding, "Tell you what, I'm going to make it my mission to get you laid."
My immediate reaction was "NOOOO! If that's your plan you'd better think again."
Debbie finished her giggling and decided not to push it anymore, however it was the very next day that she came round to defiantly say, "Me and you are going out on the town on Saturday."
"What do you mean, out on the town?" The idea filled me with trepidation.
Tom's away on a footballing weekend, so me and you are having a meal together at the 'Belmont,' get a nice dress ready and we can have a night out together. You do really need to get out more, and I expect Jake will be okay at home won't he?"
Debbie was bouncing up and down with energy and in a weak moment I sort of gave in and said 'yes okay.'
"But we're not going out on the pick up," I insisted, "I know what you said, besides you're a married woman, I hope you've told Tom what's happening?"
"He suggested it!"
I was shocked, "Jesus Debbie, have you two been discussing my sex life?"
"Maybe," she giggled again, "he said you're a real life 'Milf!"
"Oh my god!" I was imagining their conversation as I sat down on a kitchen stool.
Debbie was grinning. "That doesn't mean he wants to fuck you, although I wouldn't put it past him." She coughed! "But he said you need to get a man and someone with your looks should have them queuing up."
"Hmmm, that's very nice of him to say so, but last time I looked out the front door there was no queue!"
The excitement settled down and it was agreed that we'd book a table for eight 'o clock and a taxi for seven, giving us enough time for a drink before our meal.
My feelings were mixed, excited to be going out for a change, but the usual anxieties about what to wear. I finally settled on a light cotton dress that showed off both my legs and a bit of cleavage, not that I was encouraging any lecherous looks.
Jake was being as supportive as possible, urging me to 'go for it,' was how he put it, so I had both my hair and nails done first thing on Saturday morning.
"Fuck, I've got competition," Debbie said quietly as I arrived back and she met my car in the drive.
"It's not a competition," I replied, "it's a meal out with a friend!"
"Yes, but we both need to look like 'Milfs!"
I scoffed and tut-tutted and went indoors while Debbie made her way out to the shops.
I think even Jake was a bit gobsmacked when I presented myself ready for the taxi at 7pm. Although I'd stopped short of anything like false eyelashes I'd not got myself up like this for several years, even going as far as shaving certain intimate regions. I found that funny, as the last time I'd been seen stark naked was one of my 'angry revenge' nights around the time of my divorce.
"Bloody hell, you look gorgeous," Debbie said as I arrived next door to await the taxi.
"You look pretty good yourself," I replied as I found her in a subtle green dress, which fitted quite tightly around her body.
Both of us wore highish heels making her close to six feet tall. I wasn't exactly the poison dwarf, but my boobs were certainly bigger than hers.
When we walked into the bar at the Belmont several heads turned and it made us both feel pretty good.
"What are we drinking?" Debbie asked.
"Let's get a bottle of white and we can take it into the restaurant with our meal," I suggested.
As we were standing at the bar, waiting to order, there was a voice behind us.
"You two ladies on your own tonight?"
We both turned and standing there were two guys, perhaps thirty years old, but anyway several years younger than us. The one who spoke had a cocky look on his face and the other guy stood next to him, with a slightly arrogant smile.
"Yes we are as it happens," replied Debbie, "but we're talking business."
"Ah, big business," he said sarcastically, as though it was impossible for two women to even contemplate the idea.
"Yes, now go away and bother someone else!"
I was astounded by the aggressive way Debbie replied, but it had the right effect because with a murmuring, dismissive remark, they turned and left.
"Jesus Debbie, and you haven't even had a drink yet!" I stifled a chuckle.
"They can fuck off," she whispered as the barman brought us two glasses of Sauvignon and told us that he'd send the bottle through to the restaurant.
We sat at a table in the window and looked at the menu before we made our way to our table. Several guys with their partners couldn't help giving us surreptitious glances as we passed by. It made me feel like a new person and I positively glowed.
"I think we've made an impression, there are several guys in here lusting after us. That old boy over there, I bet he's worth a few bob," I observed.
Outrageously I watched Debbie cross and recross her legs, each time showing a large expanse of thigh. The 'old boy,' as I called him, nearly fell off his chair and I'm sure his wife asked 'what the matter was.'
"Stop it Debbie, I didn't know you were quite like this!"
We both chuckled and got on with our meal. By the time we'd had our starters we were ordering another bottle of wine, and when we'd got to our coffees two bottles had disappeared and we'd ordered a liqueur.
"Let's have these out in the lounge," she suggested and so we made our way to a comfy sofa near to the large conservatory.
"That was superb, and I've eaten too much," I said.
"Yes, and drunk too much," Debbie was in a giggly mood now.
Both of us were talking quietly, close up together, for fear of others around us hearing our sarcastic remarks about almost everyone else in the hotel.
"Look at her, talk about a big ass in that dress!" Debbie whispered.
"Stop it, she'll hear!" I giggled, speaking into her shoulder beside me.
"Hello you two, still discussing business?"
It was the 'pain in the ass' guy who'd been in the bar before our meal.
"No, actually," Debbie replied, this time in a calm tone of voice. As she spoke her hand lowered down and rested on my thigh, which I thought a bit odd. I didn't react and waited for the guy to respond.
"Might we join you?" he gestured probably thinking his luck might be in.
"I don't think there's any point," Debbie said and turned towards me.
With her hand she reached up and placed it carefully under my hair and behind the nape of my neck, drawing my head towards her before kissing me gently full on the lips, holding me there for what seemed like so many seconds.
As she pulled away, the guy's expression said everything. He just nodded knowingly and turned and left with his friend.
"Surprising how you can make guys think they stand no chance," Debbie said. She was chuckling while I was still shell shocked with the taste of her lipstick on my tongue.
"Ohhhhh Louise, you looked surprised, that's an old trick I used to use when I was single."
I was blushing bright red and conscious of people around us watching what had just taken place.
"Did you enjoy it?" she teased, placing her hand back on my thigh and squeezing ever closer to me on the sofa.
"Fuck!" I gasped quietly, "I wasn't expecting it at all."
"But did you enjoy it!" Debbie repeated, this time giggling uncontrollably, and it was clear that the alcohol was taking effect.
"It was different," was all I could think to say, although my heart was still racing.
Debbie was fidgety and had finished her liqueur, "Come on Louise, let's get a taxi home, unless you wanna go to a club?"
I was drunk, and so was she, we both knew that we wouldn't make it to a club. Both of us settled the bar tab and meal, paying half each of what was quite a large bill. The concierge ordered us a taxi and clinging to each other we made what was probably a less than elegant departure from the hotel.
As we arrived back outside Debbie's house she suggested, "Come in for coffee, it's still only 11.30 and Jake will probably be in bed."
I'd sobered up a little and replied, "Okay just a coffee, but no more alcohol!"
Once inside I kicked off my heels and slouched onto the sofa while Debbie went into the kitchen to percolate the coffee. I heard the coffee grinding and was aware that she'd gone upstairs, I thought maybe she'd gone to the loo.
When she did return via the kitchen, and with two mugs of coffee, she was wearing a dressing gown.
