It was a hot and sultry July day and it was a time in my life when I was able to relax, probably for the first time, having just completed my exams and looking forward to going off to university.
I had been off since late June, had become deeply bored and so had volunteered to play for the 2nd eleven each weekend. I was OK at cricket and that particular day we had been lucky enough to win comfortably.
And so it was that we had showered and changed and were heading up the gravel driveway to Simon's house at around 6 pm, the car wheels made a crunching sound against the shingle through the wide open windows as we pulled up behind his father's large blue Mercedes.
Simon, the captain and star player, had invited both myself and Norman, the pick of the other bowlers, back to his house for a celebratory BBQ in the summer house at the end of his father's garden.
Simon was athletically built, powerful and a good all rounder, tall and stocky with short dark hair. He was fiercely competitive and had lead the team really well, scored a few runs and taken three wickets -- you couldn't ask for more. Norman and I had cleared the rest up and so were proud of ourselves and high spirited as we drew up at the end of the long and secluded drive.
Simon's house was a large1930's detached, probably with four or five bedrooms. It was up a narrow and leafy lane adjacent to the golf course -- the back garden backed on to one of the fairways.
We didn't go into the house, we walked down the side and along a path lined on one side by a thick ash hedge, neatly clipped into a straight and tall barrier.
The house was on top of a ridge that overlooked the golf course, the garden fell away in a gentle slope and was levelled into three terraces, each with a lawn and trees forming a hedge.
Simon's father had recently re-married, his mother had died suddenly and tragically three or so years before. I remember how Simon had been cut up about his loss and now that his step mom was the former housekeeper he wasn't keen to talk about it. He took a pragmatic view saying that he would be away to university and out of it soon in any case.
The summer house was on the bottom terrace, in a secluded glade and not visible from the main house. It was cosy and set up as a den. It had power and running water. It even had a toilet and was quiet self contained. Made of stained wood it sported a fenced in wooden decked veranda, a row of six glass panelled doors at the entrance and a main lobby. Inside which, at the centre was a full sized pool table, over the doors, in the pitch of the roof, was a large flat screen television, connected to a DVD player behind the bar in the opposite corner. The bar was well set up, it had a row of four stools, a small fridge, sink, ice maker, a row of optics (all empty) and plenty of clean glasses behind the counter.
To the right there was comfortable and plush four seat corner settee which would double up as a bunk for Norman and I later. We dumped our sleeping bags behind the L shaped couch and helped Simon to pull the gas BBQ outside and on to the lawn in front of the doors.
Simon lit the gas, went off to the house and returned a few minutes later with some meat, a large crate of beer, cool and ready to drink and a DVD tucked into his shorts. Simon placed the crate behind the bar and loaded the fridge with the cans Norman and I had bought with us earlier -- we were well set.
Norman was tall and gangly, his long legs looked thin and weedy in his tight shorts. He had a dark complexion, brown eyes and wore a figure hugging black tee shirt. He was a quiet lad but had a steely edge to his sporting performance, the ideal competitor.
For my part I was in denim shorts, cut off jeans that had frayed edges and a plain white tee shirt. I was the shortest of the gang, although still around the six foot mark. My dark hair was cut short but at least my torso was a match for Simon's, not that I had been working out but he did make me pump up every time he stood next to me.
Simon was warm and welcoming and put me at my ease. Norman for his part was a veteran of these bashes and took everything in his stride.
We ate, played pool in turns and drank. Simon put the DVD on and clutched the remote jealously.
"Just in case someone comes." He said pressing the button and looking up at the screen.
It was porn downloaded from the Internet. Simon and Norman grinned as a German title flashed across the screen. Simon turned the sound down and we continued our game.
Simon was intensely competitive, he hated losing at anything, cricket or pool and dominated in "winner stays on" at the table.
The view over the golf course from the summer house was stunning. At around ten PM the light was drawing in and the last of the golfers had made their way off the course, the mowers fell silent and the sheltered glade fell still. There was almost no breeze as the heat and humidity of the day lingered.
I was bending over the table when I heard a girl's voice from the darkness behind me, through the open doors.
"Boys night in I see." The short and stocky figure said as she slipped in almost silently, her hands behind her.
There was a second person approaching through the darkness. Simon fumbled with the remote, switching the television to fuzz.
"Its OK, we both know what you get up to down here." It was difficult to deny it when all of us were sporting large bulges in our shorts.
"Evening Paula." Simon said. "Everyone, this is Paula." He said bending to take his shot. "And this is Kerry, my sister. Paula is my, er, um, step sister, she moved in in June."
A statuesque vision entered the small wooden room. She was tall and athletic, a female version of Simon, although better looking and not so broad shouldered.
"Kerry is Simon's twin." Norman whispered to me as he passed me, studying the table for the ultimate shot.
"Hi, there." Kerry announced in a soft and genteel tone.
I looked up and into her deep brown eyes, dipping them to catch sight of her athletic and toned body. I learned later that she was into tennis and was equally as competitive as Simon. She had gone to the girl's grammar school whilst Simon, Norman and I had gone to the boy's school.
Her hair was the same colour as Simon's, almost jet black, cut straight to collar length, immaculately parted down the centre and with a deep and glossy shine. She sported a healthy tan and had amazingly sexy mouth with an enchanting smile.
Paula was considerably shorter than Kerry. She had dyed blonde hair with black roots and bushy black eyebrows. She was stocky, perhaps on the rotund side with a large frame, corpulent backside and hips. She had equally liberal boobs that bounced generously as she moved around the small timber lobby.
Although less stunning than Kerry, she had a pretty face, a pale complexion, clear blue eyes and high cheek bones dotted with a few freckles. She had gone to the local comprehensive and like us had just finished her exams, but unlike us wasn't going off to university.
She had a harsh voice and a deep local accent and sported a rather large chip on her shoulder -- definitely from the wrong side of the tracks!
Both girls were bare footed and bedecked in tight shorts and hugging tee shirts. I couldn't make out the tell tale shape of a bra on either but could barely tear my stare from Kerry's long and shapely legs.
Paula was a dominant with a strong personality. She had Kerry under her spell and there was obviously a power game afoot with Simon, as she circled the pool table where he was finishing his game.
"I'll play next." She said in an almost combative tone.
"Is that all you've got to drink?" She added disdainfully. "What a bunch of losers. Here!" She said slamming a bottle of tequila down on the bar top. Kerry approached and did the same with a bottle of vodka, both having been secreted out of the house.
Norman and I looked on in stunned silence.
Kerry went behind the bar and set up two rows of shot glasses.
"Come on then. I bet we can drink you lot under the table. What do you say, the winner breaks off?" Paula turned to Simon as he planted the black ball into the corner pocket.
"OK, game on." He grabbed the vodka and filled the eight glasses stacked in a neat row.
Norman counted Paula and Simon down. With two hands each they grabbed and downed the glasses. Paula narrowly beat Simon to the punch, his eyes almost glowed red as she broke off at the table.
Paula was like some kind of a she devil. She had some kind of a power over Kerry who simply and hypnotically followed her lead. Simon obviously didn't approve and the tension in the room was palpable.
Kerry lined up another row of glasses and took on Norman. Throughout the game each of the girls rook turns to take on one of us on with the shots - Paula with vodka and Kerry with tequila. By the end of the first game the spirit bottles were almost empty and each of the girls had opened a beer.
Paula was good at pool, almost as good as Simon and after a deft closing shot was hailed by Kerry as the champion.
"How's about boys versus girls?" Kerry suggested, trying to calm the atmosphere a little. "Losers pay a forfeit."
"What forfeit?" Simon demanded.
"We'll decide when we beat you hollow." Paula said confidently blowing chalk off the tip of her cue.
Norman and I stepped up to the plate. I was starting to feel the effects of the spirits as I stood for my first shot. The girls for their part played up, each trying to put us off our shots -- brushing passed us with their breasts, bending over, showing us both cleavage and ass -- generally having a lark. Simon was furious, he strutted around and branded them cheats.
"Sit down and chill." Kerry demanded.
Simon did as he was ordered and sat slumped on the sofa. Paula blew him a kiss and winked at him in a way that was designed to make his blood boil further. She and Kerry continued to distract us at the table with a mixture of verbal innuendo and physical suggestion. The inevitable happened - the girls won.
