The Third Part of the Second Part.A Story by Ken Simm.The third part of the second part of the seventies story.The Third Part of the Second Part. I didn’t know I was expected to dress for dinner. So we went out to eat. I had clothes but apparently not the correct kind. I didn’t know what a bidet was. So I didn’t do anything with it. I used everything else in the bathroom however. As evening approached an atmosphere arrived to tap me quite hard on the shoulder and grin knowingly. Helen knew and was reserved with me. I recognised this and did the only thing I was capable of at the time. I was distressingly and cringe makingly loud. She invited me into her room. It seemed very much bigger than mine. She had unpacked. I had not. Underwear was on show. Although she wasn’t. At least the underwear she was wearing wasn’t. Although when she came out of the bathroom her hair was tied up and arranged. I’d never seen her like that before and I stared hard at her neck and the small hairs curling there. She smelled beautiful. Things happened inside and around me. The top of my head tickled and one knee began trembling and seemed not to want to stop. Then the questions… “How do I look in this?” “UH”. “I don’t think this is right” “Mmmm”. “Turn around, I need to change” I swear this happened. It was not my fault. I couldn’t help it. There was a mirror. I know you will say quite reasonably that I shouldn’t have looked. But think for a moment. Do you really believe that? Sometime later she pointed out that she had a top like that looking at a woman in the restaurant. The b***h. “Yeah, you also have some knickers in the same material as well.” A violent reaction was the inevitable and direct result. I mean how dim can you be? There are times when lack of any experience at all is simply not enough of an excuse. We walked slowly back to the hotel through the bright shining streets. We looked in shop windows. Helen looked at what was in there. I looked at her reflection. The atmosphere was almost shouting in the dark. So was I, but making less sense. Helen was whispering. She moved into the reflected shadow behind me. And then she placed her chin on my shoulder. Gurble.
© 2017 Ken Simm.Author's Note
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StatsAuthorKen Simm.Scotland, United KingdomAbout'I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience' Thoreau. For all those who .. more..Writing
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