Part Seven – Tina (continued)
“My girlfriend’s got my sense of humour. She needs it; she hasn’t got one of her own.”
Over the years I’ve discovered that some women have a strange sense of humour, and many don’t have one at all. Mind you, these days I subscribe to the Oscar Wilde view; that the only thing worse than a woman without a sense of humour, is a woman with a sense of humour.
Here are three stories about Tina, two suggesting she did have one, the other suggesting she didn’t.
1:
One Saturday night we had a row. Tina had phoned me asking me to take her out, and I’d had to say no because I’d brought a lot of work home and had to complete it, besides which we’d already arranged to spend the day together on the Sunday anyway.
When I picked her up the next morning, things were still distinctly frosty. She’d thawed a little by lunchtime, after I’d taken her to a nice country pub and bought us a meal and some drinks. During the afternoon, we found a secluded spot to park, talked through the problem and forgot we’d ever quarrelled in the first place.
After we’d finished making up, we started making out. Our kissing and groping became ever more passionate, and before long we were in the back seat, what remained of our clothes was off, and I was being inserted into her tunnel of love. But by this time I was so excited that I came after about three thrusts! Fortunately Tina was very mature about it – we just had a good laugh and enjoyed the rest of the day.
I remembered thinking, thank god it wasn't Yvonne ... she'd have gone into an instant sulk and not spoken to me for a week.
2:
With me still living at home and her sharing a flat with two other girls, opportunities for privacy were a little hard to come by. It became our custom, particularly in the summer, to head out of the city to a country pub, where we would sit and wait for the sun to go down. Then when we’d decided it was dark enough, we’d drive down the road to a deserted lane, where we would park, strip off, and enjoy a few glasses of wine before getting down to some steamy ‘rampant sex’ – as the lady herself used to call it.
One night after we had done the deed, I felt the need to answer a call of nature and got out of the car. While relieving myself I heard some shuffling, followed by a loud click. And when I tried to get back in … I couldn’t. She’d locked me out.
So there I was, twenty miles from home, stuck outside the car in a country lane where anyone could walk or drive past at any time, and not a stitch on. (25 years before I became a naturist!) I spent a very uncomfortable few minutes trying to persuade Tina to let me back in (during which time she was jumping up and down laughing, sounding the horn and flashing the lights) and making a supreme effort not to let her know how annoyed I was. Eventually, she unlocked the door. (She couldn’t drive so at least I knew she wasn’t going to shoot off and leave me stranded.)
A week or so later we were back in the same spot and once more, I got out. And once more, I heard the click. This time I simply let myself back in using the spare key I’d had cut the day before, hidden in the door pocket, and picked up as I got out. What puzzled me, though, was that I never attempted to lock her out of the car in similar circumstances. Perhaps I’m just not as mean as she was!
3:
She once told me about a friend of hers whose boyfriend came round to visit her, and when she opened the door to him, she had no top on. I thought, ‘well that story’s a bit tame, isn’t it? Nothing remotely interesting there.’
But I said, “I bet you wouldn’t do that.”
She said, “I bet I would.”
I said, “A pound says you wouldn’t.” (This was in the 80s, a pound was worth a lot more than it is now.)
She said, “Right.”
I was on a roll now, because I’d just remembered something that I was pretty sure she had forgotten. So I said, “Furthermore, I bet you two pounds you wouldn’t come to the door … with nothing on.”
A few days later I called round to have lunch with her and when the door opened she was hiding behind it. As soon as I was in and she shut it, I could see why. There she stood in all her glory, completely naked. And I do mean glory; remember she was 5 foot 10 and quite curvy.
Then I said, “You remember that two pounds you owe me? Well, you don’t owe me it any more.” Tina said nothing, but I could see by her expression that she was decidedly not happy.
(She was quite happy to stay naked the entire lunch hour though, and for us to fuck each other’s brains out before I went back to work.)
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