This is a true story. All the characters in this story were over the age of consent (18) when the story took place.
For those of you who have been following the 'Summer' stories this is in effect the sixth part in that saga, although it is a branching off from the main theme. This is Jackie's story, Sue's sister. For the feminists out there, this is not Jackie's story told by Jackie; this is Jackie's story, a woman's story, as told to me, a man and now retold by me. When Jackie told me this story and she told it over a considerable period of time, not in one sitting, she put all of herself into it, her fears and her feelings; I am now retelling it as best I can and many years have intervened since, but I will say again that I am a man telling a woman's story. I have however tried to keep the story as close to the original telling as possible but if I do not quite capture her feelings as they were expressed to me then I apologise in advance.
As far as I am aware this is a true story and it is a story worth retelling. This is how Jackie told it and I have no reason to believe she lied.
............
Summer Chapter 6
As we walked home from the reservoir the talk amongst the boys was all of Jackie and her obvious sexual experience. We had just come to terms with our own sudden sexual freedom and had come to think, as every generation does, that we had invented sex and were the only ones doing it; and then along came Jackie who is obviously far better versed in sex than we were despite our somewhat liberal attitudes to getting naked with Sue, Jackie's sister.
In truth it took me the full summer to get Jackie to tell her story and she didn't tell it all to me, some came from Sue, but I have pieced the bits together into one continuous tale for the ease of telling; and I think it is worth telling, I just hope that you agree.
............
Jackie's story Chapter 1
Jackie was not sure when she first became aware of Alan, quite literally the man next door. He had always been there in background, a vague part of the life going on around her, but she could not remember when she first became aware of him, the man, as a separate and perhaps somewhat dark and dangerous entity. He was much older than she was and therefore not within her usual sphere of interest, she was still at school and he was a working man, in his 30's, positively ancient.
He owned a motor bike, quite a status symbol in a small town and she would often see him, the bike pushed out onto the bit of hard standing he had laid in the wood that bordered onto the bottom of their back gardens, tinkering with the engine or polishing the already highly polished frame. The talk was that he was a 'bit wild' and he had a 'reputation' around the area, she was not quite sure for what but the older folk would make veiled comments about him from time to time and Jackie's dad thought him a 'bit of a rough one'. The adults in the two families in the adjacent houses were friendly enough in a casual sort of way but not what you could call close except in that, 'can you lend me a cup of sugar' sort of way that was the norm in those days.
It took a while for her to realise that Alan was showing an interest in her. As she walked back from the shops, through the woods he would occasionally stop working on his bike and watch her as she approached the back gate. He never spoke, just watched her while he polished the already gleaming paintwork. His eyes took in her body, not in the way most other men or friends looked at her, his gaze was predatory he unsettled her and she did not know how to handle his silence. She had never met anything like him before.
Once, she summoned the courage to ask him what he was looking at, he stopped polishing for a moment and sat still on his haunches at the side of his bike, "You" was all he said and he smiled, his gaze slowly working it's down her body. She hovered for a moment, full of youthful indecision, her bravery evaporating under his blatant stare.
"Well don't!" she said childishly and then cursed herself for such a pathetic, immature response; and with as much dignity as she could muster she pushed open the gate to her back garden and went through. She could feel his eyes on her back as she moved and as the gate swung shut his quiet derisory laugh followed her.
She couldn't figure out why he unsettled her and she couldn't figure out why he was watching her but she was aware enough to recognise he was somehow dangerous. When she found him watching she immediately became gawky and awkward, ungainly, all legs and angles. But she also acknowledged his effect on her, she was always aware of him watching her, a tightness in her chest and somehow turned on, excited, a walking on ice feeling, the fatal attraction of danger. When she knew he was watching she would push out her small chest and walk with an exaggerated sway of the hips. She quickly realised she liked the attention.
Once when she was sunbathing in her bikini on the back garden, lying on her back on a blanket, one arm shading her eyes as she read a book a book; she suddenly became aware of him, leaning quietly over the fence between the two houses, smoking a cigarette, almost looking straight down on her. She literally jumped and squealed with surprise. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" she yelled, sitting up and dropping her book.
He made no attempt to hide his interest in her body; he studied her breasts in the small bikini top like a man judging horseflesh at a fair. "Grown up a bit since I last looked at you." He said ignoring her question.
"You're always looking at me," she said, beginning to wilt under his casual scrutiny "why?" She wanted to cover herself up with her blanket but she found she could not move. She could feel her nipples hardening under his blatant stare.
