I was nervous. I paced up and down in the Bus Station, waiting. Perhaps she won’t come, after all.
It was my first date with Janice. In fact it was my first serious date with any girl.
I had met her at Round Oak Steelworks. I know that sounds idiotic, but we both worked in the Sales Office. I had taken a temporary job there, during my school holidays. I wasn’t very good at it and, if it wasn’t for the fact that my Mom worked there too, but was off sick, and I would only be there for a short period in the Summer holidays, I would have been out on my ear after the first week!
Janice was two years older than I was, and at that tender age I felt very self-conscious about it. I was quite proud of myself, though, because I thought a lot of her. I won’t tell you what I thought, but I thought about it as I was waiting for the bus.
She smiled as she walked towards me. A sweet girl, a woman in my eyes, she was just seventeen years old. Her body was petite, but well developed, inclined to plumpness, but only where a girl should be plump. Her bosom and hips swelled enticingly under her raincoat. Her breasts and bottom seemed to sway slightly under the belted raincoat as she walked, her high heels clicking on the hard paving. She had a pretty, round face and short dark hair. She wore a little too much make-up, but it was artistically applied and made her look even more desirable and grown up.
She lifted her smiling face to me and I kissed her. The Bus Station was crowded, but she put her hand behind my neck and pressed her wide, red lips to my mouth. She held me for a long time, until, softly pouting, she pulled her head away. Her eyes were wide and bright, with long, dark, mascara-loaded lashes that fluttered slightly .
“Hello Jack. Pleased to see me?” she breathed.
How could I not be? “Yes,” I nervously nodded, “very much!”
I could hardly talk. My throat seemed to be knotted and my heartbeats banged and raced inside my chest.
“Do you want a cigarette, Janice?” I offered the pack, my hand shaking.
“Thanks. I must get some. There’s a machine over there. Tipped, please.”
I walked over to the cigarette machine, not realising I’d forgotten to light the cigarettes. It was a strange wet tube I was sucking, until I suddenly remembered. I span round. She was standing with her feet apart, hand on hip, cigarette held out in the other, and laughing mischievously. She turned round in mock disdain, her tightly fitting raincoat swishing above her pretty, nylon-covered calves.
She had to hold my hand steady as I raised the lighted match, her twinkling eyes staring at my worried frown.
“It’s alright. I think you’re very sweet. I’ll forgive you, if you say you love me,” she whispered, gleefully.
“I do,” my trembling lips managed to say.
I quickly got the packet of cigarettes for her from the machine and she put them in her handbag.
As we walked hand in hand down the street, I relaxed a bit, and became more sure of myself. I squeezed her fingers.
“I like the scent you are wearing,” I said.
“Thank you, kind sir.” We laughed.
We stopped outside the Danilo and I asked her where she’d like to sit. “Right at the back, upstairs!” she replied. Well, I was very pleased about that. The cinema was notorious for its roomy double seats and inky blackness. I hoped there would be an empty seat. We were lucky; three empty double seats against the wall on the back row furthest from the central aisle. There was nobody in front, either, and as it was quite late, no-one else was likely to sit near us. We struggled through the pitch darkness. The attendant didn’t dare shine the torch along the back seats.
There was much scuffling and writhing as we pushed along, our eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness.
We took off our coats and laid them behind us, sitting down on the double seat, practically a couch, tucked into the corner. It really was a great Cinema! Even when my eyes were accustomed to the gloom, I couldn’t see the people below us. The film had started and we settled back to watch “A Summer Place”.
I smiled at Janice. She wasn’t wearing much under that raincoat. A pale pink angora sweater glowed iridescently above a black skirt, her pink knees peeping out. The thrusting splay of her breasts swelled under the shimmering fluff, the plunging neckline hinting at the soft round shapes pressed together by her bra. She kicked her shoes off, and tucked her legs under her bottom, leaning in to me. I offered her a cigarette and then put my arm around her. She snuggled close. The film wasn’t very interesting; I was hardly thinking about it.
I pushed my hand under the neck of the ticklish jumper and held her firm, but giving shoulder. Her skin was warm and smooth. My fingers tightened. I looked into her face; she looked into mine. She closed her eyes and I slowly pressed my eager lips on her trembling mouth. Her hot breath caressed my cheek. I felt her tongue pushing boldly into my mouth, stroking my teeth and touching my tongue, which slipped under hers, tasting the burning, bubbling skin.
I stubbed out my cigarette, then fumbled under her sweater, daring to rest my hand on her bare stomach, the skin so warm and soft. I squirmed to release my constricted, tightening trousers. Creeping higher, I felt the swell of her breast, but came to a halt as I felt the rougher material of her bra. I was stumped; I didn’t know how to get past this obstacle, and she had rested her hand on the straining bulge in my lap.
At this moment, a scream came from a seat further towards the aisle. Torches flashed on and we froze, transfixed in the usher’s powerful beam of light.
Read on . . .