I am often asked where the inspiration for Penny's Promiscuity came from. I have already admitted that there is a little of me in every chapter, and a great deal of me in one, but in the first instance Penny's adventures were certainly helped by this story.
It was one of my very earliest, originally published in 2006 under a different pseudonym - and even a different gender. I was not as confident of my abilities then as, thank to my wonderful readers, I have now become.
It is the true story of how, after knowing each other for more than ten years, a happily married man found himself in bed with one of his closest family friends.
I know both of the protagonists personally. I won't tell you which one told me the truth.
It is written from the male point of view because I was writing under a male pseudonym at the time, so that isn't a clue. I've changed the names and a few other details that might give too big a clue to his or Penny's true identities, but otherwise this is exactly how it happened -- or at least it's how it was told to me!
***
In her early forties, a highly educated professional woman with two teenage children, Penny isn't one of those women you would immediately see and lust after. She's quite tall, with short dark hair and her body is angular - perhaps even skinny - rather than slim. Her face is full of character and distinctive, rather than beautiful.
But I've wanted to make love to her for many years.
For most of the time I've known her, Penny has had a rather intense, commanding personality. She's highly intelligent, well educated and tends to want her own way most of the time. Her husband, a very good friend of mine, has found it easiest to let her have her way in most things; as a result, Penny can be cold and hard when thwarted in any way. For years I found this harder side of her personality to be quite off-putting, but gradually, beginning in the October of 2003, things began to change.
I suppose we all desire most the things we do not possess. In Penny and my case, this has been particularly true. My wife is quite short, with a rounded figure -- not by any means fat - and blonde hair. In contrast, Penny is tall and angular with dark hair. My wife's breasts are large and full. Penny's breasts are small and her chest flat. My wife's legs are short and muscular. Penny's are long, slim and pale.
And I feel strongly attracted to both of them.
Similarly, Penny's husband is short whereas I am very tall. His skin is tanned while mine is paler. He has more hair all over his body than anyone I have ever encountered; in contrast I have little body hair which, as a consequence of my wife's aversion to it, has been trimmed even shorter.
I suppose in this perverse way Penny were bound to be interested in each other.
For a full ten years our two families got on well together -- kids about the same age, interests similar -- and there was little or no sexual content to our friendship. It's true that, when I sat next to Penny at dinner parties, the conversation often took on a sexual nature, but there was no real suggestion of anything more -- that is, until one New Year party when I realised that, gradually but undeniably, something had significantly changed.
Looking back, I can now see how it began with small things -- holding on to me just a fraction longer than she used to when kissing goodnight on the cheek; the conversation turning sexual slightly more often than usual; occasionally 'accidentally' not turning her head far enough at the end of an evening so we kissed on the lips instead of the cheek, supposedly by mistake.
Nothing concrete, but in retrospect a sexual frisson was definitely developing. Of course, at the time, I completely failed to spot this!
Gradually things progressed. When making arrangements for our families to meet, or to help with each other's kids, it became my mobile phone that Penny called or sent messages to more often than my wife's. Text conversations began to involve more than just one or two practical sentences too, and Penny's messages began to end with an 'X' instead of their previous curt, practical stops.
Only small things again, but gradually they added up to a distinct change in the nature of my relationship with her. And because it happened slowly, it had become bedded in long before either of us realised it.
It was only after one long, slightly drunken Friday night dinner party at the house of mutual friends, that things suddenly changed in a way that even I couldn't miss.
Penny usually drives herself and her husband home, so seldom drinks at dinner parties. But that night they had been given a lift to the dinner by two of the other guests, so she was free to have a few glasses of wine. Amusingly, she gets giggly after only a couple of glasses and, predictably sitting next to me, she became a little tipsy quite early on in the evening.
We had been discussing the holiday that our two families were planning to go on together in the summer. I had gathered together a bag of brochures and had short-listed half a dozen to select from. Penny's husband always lets her choose their holidays, and my wife leaves the decisions to me, so it was normal and natural for the two of us to talk them over. I offered to give Penny the bag of brochures I had brought with me, together with my hand-written notes, so she could look them over and tell me what she thought.
That was when things changed. Penny put her hand on mine and a slightly odd look came over her face. Her voice when she spoke was low and conspiratorial.
"No," she said. "Bring them over on Monday after the kids have gone to school."
I was silent for a moment. A little tipsy myself, I wasn't sure I had understood her correctly?
"Monday morning?" I asked, testing the situation. "So, Paul can see them too?"
"Paul will have gone off with the kids," Penny whispered, a little drunkenly, a meaningful smile on her face.
Our eyes met and she squeezed my hand under the table, then turned abruptly to chat to the friend on her other side. I sat back, bemused.
The rest of the dinner passed off without event. I thought that Penny's leg 'accidentally' brushed against mine more often than chance alone would have allowed, but by the time we were all standing in the hallway saying our 'thank you' and 'goodnights' I was beginning to doubt whether there had been any message at all.
The guests walked as an elongated group along the driveway to our cars, the night dark and moonless around us. My wife turned as she opened the car door and Penny gave her a goodnight peck on the cheek. I shook hands with Paul, both of us slurring our words slightly.
By the time Penny casually leaned towards me for the usual farewell kiss, I had decided that it had all been an illusion brought on by too much good wine. But as I bent to kiss her goodnight, she turned her head -- this time quite deliberately -- and I found myself kissing her full on the mouth.
In the pitch darkness, her lips opened for a fraction of a second. I felt the hardness of her teeth on my mouth and the sudden, hot, soft thrust of her tongue against mine.
Then she pulled away sharply, smiling.
"See you on Monday!" he whispered. "Sleep well!"
I stood speechless until my wife's voice brought me to my senses. I sat in the car, and she drove us home.
***
Unsurprisingly, I spent the rest of the weekend with a belly full of butterflies, unsure whether Penny had really invited me to be alone with her; and even less sure whether I should take up the invitation if indeed there had been one.
No, that's not right. I wasn't unsure at all; I knew full well I shouldn't go, but I knew equally well that I had to see if I had been right.
I had never cheated on my wife before, despite a number of opportunities over the years and our own highly unsatisfactory sex life. But this wasn't just any woman; this was Penny, one of our closest friends; someone I should think of more like a sister than a potential lover.
Suddenly, to my horror, I realised that this made the idea of being seduced by her even more exciting.
I spent an anxious Saturday and a restless Sunday, my mind already troubled by lust and guilt even though I had done nothing wrong -- at least, nothing outside my own head. By the time I went to bed on Sunday night I had convinced myself that it had all been a misunderstanding and that I wasn't interested in her anyway.
But by the time I woke in the morning, I knew I had to at least see if I had been right.
I told my wife that I had an early appointment with a customer in Leeds and had left the house early myself. She had no reason to suspect. Early appointments happened on a weekly basis so, at 7.30 am, I parked my car just round the corner from Penny's house on a busy through-road where its presence would not attract attention.
I waited patiently, half listening to the news on the radio and watching the driveway until I saw the large, automatic wooden gates swing inwards, and Paul's car, full of children, leave for school.
As soon as they were out of sight, I fired up the engine, quickly nipped through the open gates and up the long, straight driveway to the front door. In the rear-view mirror, I saw the gates swing shut behind me shutting out any nosy, suspicious neighbours as I drew to a halt, pulled on the hand brake and, stepping nervously out of my car, looked around carefully.
The house seemed deserted as I took my plastic bag of brochures out of the back seat and looked up at the windows.
The room I knew to be the master bedroom had its curtains drawn. Suddenly there was movement behind the drapes, and I thought I saw a face. It disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared.
Nervously I adjusted my tie and also the lie of my cock which was already hardening uncomfortably in my boxer shorts then crossed to the red front door and knocked softly.
There was no response. I knocked a little harder and thought I could just make out the sound of running feet inside the house. There was a fumbling at the door; it opened a few inches then stopped, held by the security chain. Through the gap, I could just make out Penny's face. She had a bathrobe pulled tightly around her.
She didn't smile. My heart sank.
"Hi Penny." I stammered, trying vainly to keep a casual note in my voice.
The door closed in my face. Oh God! I thought. Have I made a mistake? Did I misread her messages?
But then I heard a rattling as the security chain was unfastened and the door slowly swung open. Penny stood inside, her eyes on mine. There was a strange look on her face which did not at first reassure me.
"Is this a bad time?" I asked, giving us both the chance to back out, or for me to pretend I'd come for some other reason.
Penny just grinned in an embarrassed manner. As she looked at me, her bathrobe fell ever-so-slightly open before she pulled it tightly around her again. Has that been deliberate? Through the gap I thought I could see sexy, pale lace underwear.
That wasn't normal for a Monday, surely?
