Temporary Secretary

Part 56

24 July 1981

Friday Evening

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You had planned this weekend to finally head down to Windsor and see your father, and have him be able to meet Paul.

You would leave early Saturday morning, so you were taking time to pack the night before.

You would return late Sunday night, so there wasn't too much needed to pack. A small bag for each of you for the two nights.

"Should I be nervous?" Paul said.

You shook your head.

"No." You said. "He's no traditionalist. He's not going to..."

You looked upward.

"...come out with a shotgun and ream you for daring to knock his daughter up out of wedlock"

You nodded

"He's very laid back, I think." You said. "So long as he senses no danger posed onto me, and you're a respectable fellow."

"Ah." Paul said.

You smoothed one hand along the palm of the other.

"Well, then again, you're the first one I actually brought home." You said. "Well..."

Paul's eyebrows raised at that.

"Really?" He said.

"Well, I've never been so serious with anyone else, to merit bringing them home." You mumbled.

Your first partner, it had been the longest one, that had went beyond simple flirting and kisses.

You'd met in year eleven, you must've been about fifteen. It had lasted about six months. Of course, you were young then, and it wasn't so serious. You simply enjoyed his company.

You recalled that he had hazel eyes, as Paul did. Dark hair, too. (Maybe you had a type). Unlike Paul, though, his complexion was more olive, like yours was.

He was a nice young man, rather gentle, the softer sort. That had always been your type. You were the one to pursue him.

You'd had your pursuers, but those sort of lads never interested you. They would boast too much for your taste, attempting to portray a strong, commanding presence in hopes to impress you, and sweep you off your feet. They'd deepen their voice, and lean over you as if you were a child.

You didn't care for it at all. Perhaps they were confused when it had no effect, you just giving them a strange look.

You'd taken to the fellow rather quickly. He was the quiet sort, though like Paul, it was his pretty face and mannerisms that attracted him to you. You had been the one to approach him. One springtime afternoon, you'd come up to him beneath a shady tree.

You hadn't been strangers, sharing some classes together, but hadn't spoke so much otherwise. It hadn't been difficult to speak with him though, even if he was a more demure sort. You liked the feeling of that, easy conversation, with a peaceful sort of atmosphere.

You were familiar with the book he had been reading, and had began the conversation with that. You couldn't remember now, but it was one of Orwell's, either Clergyman's Daughter or Wigan Pier.

You were only fifteen. It was an innocent sort of puppy love. You would walk through the parks together, hand in hand. You would kiss him on the cheek, or the side of the head, and say sweet things to him.

You did have sex. It hadn't been right away, and neither of you had done it before.

He was slightly nervous that first time, but there was a trust between you. Your father had been away for a week on business, leaving you with the place to yourself. He was comfortable leaving you alone, as you were capable of looking after yourself by that age, and furthermore, far from the type to take advantage of the situation and throw violent ragers.