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A story about a Mother and Son.
There were evenings in the pub, evenings in restaurants, ringing at church which she eventually tried herself and enjoyed.
There were nights out 'with the girls' from which I was excluded. The girls were my three and Penny. While alarm bells might be ringing in your ears, my girls were very moral and I had no qualms about them spending evenings together and looking after Connie's virtue.
I had struck up a friendship with Martin, now Penny's intended, and we'd have our own night out in the local pub, sometimes with Ian who it seemed had ceased to play the field, had lost a lot of weight but none of his humour, and was courting a very pretty girl called Mina. Bridge nights were Thursdays until we gave it a rest during July and August. Connie went to Penny's on those Thursdays.
In September, after the schools opened, Connie and I took a holiday together, this time to Scotland. We toured the West Coast, and apart from a few sunny days, got thoroughly doused with rain most of the time. Hotel rooms varied from ultra traditional to sleek almost clinically modern, but the food was always good and often superb. I got to taste a good number of whiskies of which I'd never heard, so no matter what else happened, I was a happy camper! Connie eventually began to enjoy shopping without feeling guilty - after all it was Dad's money she was now spending and he had plenty!
Sex? Plenty on the holiday, each new hotel bed seemed to bring out the randiness in both of us, and for the rest we fell into a relaxed affectionate coupling three or four times a week. We always hugged, touched, kissed and stroked each other as we passed in the flat. We always sat together and cuddled while watching TV.
We both enjoyed reading our books of an evening, content simply to be in each other's company. Morning and Night we always kissed our greetings and goodnights with caresses, which often strayed into erogenous areas and turned into more, making us tired in the mornings through lack of sleep, or morning enthusiasm.
All too soon the university term loomed and a return to our previous life, commuting from home to that tiny flat. We packed up her belongings, her books and clothes and set off for Keele.
It's strange how I was affected by this new term. I was now ill at ease about Connie. Looking at it logically I had no need for worry, but emotions don't work like that. As we drove down I wondered what was the cause of this distrust. There was the shadow of Penny's behaviour in a similar situation, then there was her father and a concern that he was up to no good where we were concerned, and finally her night out with her tutor, and her blithe 'See you next term'.
When looked at like that, should I feel worse or better about her second year at Keele? Certainly there would be a difference from last term: this year she would have more time on her hands to socialise, and therefore more opportunity to find someone else, perhaps nearer her own age. That was unsettling, and it gave rise to a suspicious attitude, and a search for evidence of her straying.
We journeyed down on Saturday morning and found the campus chock full of doting parents installing their offspring in their various accommodations. Cars were parked all over the place and we could not get near her flat. We parked in the large car park and walked to the refectory and grabbed coffee and toast, then returned. Connie spied a space near her front door and stood in it until I brought the car. Then we unloaded.
Thereafter we relaxed in her bed for an hour, if relaxation is the appropriate word. As we recovered from the excesses of our 'relaxation', she stumped me again. How did she know?
"Graham, you don't need to worry, you know."