Short stories about Paulineâs by Pagan.
âYou bastard you absolute bastard, you knew how much I wanted to go to that party, how could you? And away for how long? Ten days, ten bloody days. Oh yes, you would hob-knob with your new bossâs, I can hear you now, yes sir, no sir, lick your boots sir, go on piss off with your bossâs, I bet their wives are going, Iâm not good enoughâ.
Peter Stepford went towards his wife, âLook Iâll ring you, Iâll makeââ.
Before he could finish she grabbed the phone, ripped it from the wall and threw it at him, âRing yourselfâ. In floods of tears she ran upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.
Pauline Stepford had been married for six weeks to Peter, this was her second marriage and she hoped her last. A fine looking women of 34 never had children, part of the reason for the break up was that she had a low sex drive but she had meet Peter, a pharmaceutical technician, and such a sweet understanding man who didnât push the sex thing; she was married to him with in four months.
They had been in the area for about three weeks, new job, wonderful new house, new beginning and they had been invited to a grand cocktail party to meet the posh neighbourhood but now all that was cancelled, he was going on a trip with the three bossâs and their wives, Pauline was not going, she had not been excepted yet.
She sat composed in front of the mirror, dabbing her eyes with one hand as she brushed her thick dark hair with the other, there was a light tap on the bedroom door.
âPauline may I come in? I am sorry, itâs not my ideaâ.
Pauline turned and stared at the locked door, âNo, no, no, go sleep in the spare room and donât talk to me in the morning, Iâll go out and you can pack and clear off, you can think yourself lucky if Iâm here when you get backâ.
A pathetic, âPleaseâ, came back.
Pauline stood and scream, âGo lick assâ. Then marched to the light switch, turned the lights off and lay on the bed.
Peter thought discretion being the better part of valour waited until he heard her go before packing and leaving, having to use his mobile he ordered flowers to be delivered and then waited for the car to take him.
Pauline arrived back, saw the flowers waiting for her and dumped them in the bin, went in and poured a large glass of wine. She picked up the invite,
Mr and Mrs J Huwl-Forsyth.
Request the pleasure of Mr and Mrs P Stepford
The purpose to join the community for a cocktail evening and buffet
At The Lodge.
Monday 18 November from 7pm
Evening dress required.
Still with it in her hand she climbed the stairs, went in to the bedroom, opened the wardrobe and pulled out the black wrap around scoop necked cocktail dress, she thought, âWhy notâ.
It was 4pm when she ran her bath; she had decided she was going to look the part. Bath over, a little neat trim of her pubic hairs, then to her make up, followed by her hair, now the clothes. The black dress had a low scoop neck, so an uplift bra to push her ample breastâs up would be just the thing to give the top that well filled and over-flowing look, she laughed to her-self when she thought, âThat will make the old farts whistleâ, matching pants and nice dark tights. She laid them on the bed and went to get her sling back high heels.
She dropped one of the shoes, it hit the bed and caught her tights, âDam, dam, damâ she looked in the draw for another pair. Another set of, âDam, dam, damsâ greeted the fact that all she had left were stockings and they would need suspenders, it would have to do, a little discreet pin would stop the wrap around from opening that extra six inches, she looked perfect, she had ordered a taxi for eight, now nothing was going to stop her going.
She had made polite conversion with men who could only look at her cleavage, she had spoken about different charityâs with nice old ladies, the local ladies man had been given the brush off, but a lot of wine had been consumed.
Itâs was just gone eleven when two cars arrived, four younger men got out and chatted as they entered. Pauline over heard someone say, âOh hell Iâd hoped they gone away with them, spoilt bratsâ, Pauline wondered who they were as another glass of wine was handed to her.
She asked a gentleman, who earlier had been a cleavage admirer, he told her, âThe bossâs sonâs, little shits nothing but a butch of loud mouth big headsâ, she took it they werenât wanted, anyway a stifled yawn told her it was time to call it a day, she was a bit woozy and yes, she had missed Peter.
As she went for her coat her glass was knocked by one of the youths, âSorryâ, he turned at looked at her, âOh yes so very sorry, my who are youâ?
The other three joined him and she polity said, âGood evening to all of themâ.