'Tasters' - extracts from the book:-

A Virgin Bride

Now let the fun begin.....

 

From the start:-

   " Sex," Mary said, loudly.

    This in answer to Brenda's asking what was on her mind, as they paused to watch the hunt leaders in the next field.

    Perhaps it was the timing that was unfortunate, rather than the word itself, although it had been spoken a little more vehemently than the speaker intended.

    It just happened to be at one of those peculiar moments when there was a natural lull in the general hubbub of chatter between the riders and also when an older couple had cantered rather close to them, certainly within hearing range.

    Unaware she was being overheard, Mary continued with, "What is it like? Does it hurt, is it horrid and messy, and can girls really enjoy it? Or do they only pretend to, just to please the man?"
She pulled a hipflask from her pocket, and flipped off the cap.

    The two girls in their early twenties were both immaculately attired in black hunting coats, riding jodhpurs and hard hats made attractive by a peak and a bow, although one sat rather easier on her horse than the other. They were only an hour into the hunt - Brenda's first - and at the start had sipped appreciatively from the traditional stirrup cup, a hot whisky toddy - just the thing for a cold February morning, and listened to the hunt master welcome everyone and give his instructions.

    "Looking forward to it, Brenda?" Mary Smythe-Berryman had asked her companion.

    "Since you ask, no." She paused to press her heels into her horse's flanks to remind it who was boss, the horse impatient now, anxious to be away. "It's alright for you," she continued, "you've been riding since, well probably since before you could walk. But it's only two years ago you first got me onto a horse, and you know full well this is my first hunt, so how can I be looking forward to it? And please don't ask me to jump hedges and things - if God meant us to do that he wouldn't have invented gates."

    Mary laughed. "Just relax - I'm sure you'll enjoy it once we get going, and a lot of the girls do use gates, so don't worry about that. And you might even pull - there's one or two good looking chaps here."

    "But I feel so out of place! It's alright for you - ex-Roedean and everything, but these people are out of my class, kiddo."

    "You don't usually show such an inferiority complex, and anyway you're completely wrong. That girl over there," she indicated a plump female of about their age, "her Dad's the local newsagent, there's one bloke who's a garage mechanic, and quite a few are the off-spring of local farmers, or even the farmers themselves."

    "There you are - the landed gentry."

    Again Mary laughed. "Landed yes, in that they own or rent land, but I'm talking about farmers with dirt under their finger nails, ones who drive John Deere tractors not Rolls Royce motor cars. Oh yes, I suppose there are a few toffs or whatever you might want to call them, but there's really no class distinction. Anyway, it looks like we're off. We usually ride side by side, so stick with me - and do try to enjoy yourself."

    After the first hour Brenda found that she was indeed enjoying herself, most of the riding had been easy - along farm tracks or grass fields, and their companions really did seem a fairly jolly lot. An older couple who rode behind them appeared more at the 'toff' end of the spectrum, but the man, who looked like he was a retired general or similar, smiled appreciatively and regularly at the two pretty girls, a little to the displeasure of the rather haughty lady who rode beside him.
Following Mary's outburst about sex, and now listening intently, the haughty looking lady nodded her head sagely, whilst her male companion looked astonished at the very suggestion that women might not enjoy it. But the speaker didn't even notice them, and instead took a swig from her flask, before passing it to her companion.
'Bugger', she thought, having meant to broach sex as the second subject she wanted to raise, which would have made it a natural consequence to the first, which in fact she hadn't even yet mentioned.....
Brenda Macmillan leaned forward on her horse and looked at Mary in astonishment. "I've never one hundred percent believed you, but you really are a....."

    ".....Virgin?" Mary nodded, her auburn hair bobbing from under her helmet with the movement. Twenty-three years old, she was, it was generally agreed by those who met her, or even glanced at her, decidedly pretty, a slightly snub turned-up nose adding character to her face, with a degree of affluence enabling her to dress for her looks. Moreover, her figure was traditional hour glass shape, with a chest that attracted attention from men even before they'd noted how pretty she actually was.

    "But your figure, your boobs, you seem made for....."

    ".....Sex?" She'd spoken the word again - what was wrong with her? "Well I assure you I've yet to find out." Seeking to change the subject she asked, "How's your love-life - Damon, isn't it, or was he last week's model?"

    "Heading that way, kiddo."
Mary smiled, "Thought so." She paused before adding, "I'll be moving out of the flat, by the way".

    "But why - have I upset you?" Brenda responded.

    Just at that moment a horn blew, the fox, the hounds, the whippers-in, the master and the macho leaders all leaping into action - the chase was on, and Mary galloped off before she could reply. Less surely Brenda followed, but found that her horse knew best, and if she gave the mare her head could easily keep up with the others as together they galloped across a big field with a gentle downhill slope. Across the bottom ran a hawthorn hedge, and confidently Mary Smythe-Berryman set her gelding to take it. But her confidence was mis-placed and as her friend reined in the mare to more cautiously search for a gate, Mary's horse clipped the top of the hedge and sent her flying, to land several yards on the other side.

    Terrified, Brenda trotted her horse up to the hedge, dreading what she was going to see. But she needn't have worried, for although having flown a considerable distance through the air and now lying spread-eagled on her back with the wind knocked out of her, Mary had been 'taking her lumps' from falling off a horse all her life, and didn't seem at all concerned.

    "Are you okay?" Brenda shouted.

    "I think so - a bit winded, that's all."

    "Thank God for that! But why are you moving out - have I upset you?"

    Mary laughed. "Good God no! Quite the opposite, actually."

    "You're moving out because you like me? Where to?"

    "Next door."

    "The Jenkinsons are moving?"

    "No, next door the other side."

    "You don't mean you're moving in with Joe? What changed your mind about the promise to your Mum and Dad and God and the Vicar - the one about keeping your virginity until you got married?"

    Mary laughed. "Nothing, you silly."

    The penny dropped. "You mean you and Joe are finally getting....."

    ".....Married? Hitched? Spliced? Yes - in May! Mummy and Daddy still think I could do better than the impoverished boy next door, but they've accepted the situation and want us to do it properly, here in their village church....."

    A short pause before she added, "....And I'd like you to be my chief bridesmaid."

* * *

From the middle, in Santander:-

    .....That had been washed down by a bottle of a quite tidy Rioja, followed by a roughish Spanish brandy, and now to round off his evening Joe was back in the same busy bar where he'd started.

    Not now quite as busy, he thought, realising he was more than a little bit tipsy - certainly very relaxed. Relaxed and happy though, his thoughts moving to tomorrow, when he'd be allowed to finally join his ship, to finally join his Mary. And tomorrow night, when at last he'd.....

    A middle-aged bottle haired blonde who had been sitting a few bar stools away moved to join him - unbeknown to Joe she was a journalist, and always on the lookout for people she considered interesting. And this guy looked intelligent, though definitely in his cups. Why was he alone? Would he make good company in her ever-so-lonely bed?

    "Hi", she said, "you look like you need some company. My name's Mamie, I'm American."

    Joe looked at her with bleary eyes. "My best man was like you."

    "Your best man was a woman?"

    "No, not a woman - an American. My best man was an American. Is an American. I like Americans, they're friendly. I'm English - we're also friendly. But you're not a hooker, are you - the last strange woman I spoke to was, I'd been sent there by a police woman? Man. A police man. Actually he was a gendarme."

    This guy was probably further gone than she'd thought. "They pay the police so badly in France they pimp on the side?"

    "I gave him a hundred pounds. I mean a hundred euros."

    "You must have been desperate, buddy, was she worth it?."

    "I don't know - I didn't, that is, I don't....."

    "So you gave the cop a hundred smackers to not go with a girl?" Was this guy off his trolley, or what?

    "No - the hundred euros was for the tax - else I had to see a magistrate."

    "They charge sales tax on hookers in France?" she asked incredulously. "A hundred euros? If that was the tax what the hell did she charge?"

    "She did tell me, but I forget. She was a funny woman - very strange. Spoke about nudes and wanks and blonde men."

    Gee could she pick 'em! "And you say you think I'm strange?"

    "No - you're not strange like she was, as in peculiar, but a stranger to me."

    "Oh I see," she said, slightly mollified. "So why are you here, all mellow and melancholy?"

    "Because my wife's out there." He waved his left arm in the approximate direction of the docks.

    "Outside? Your wife's outside. Is she having a cigarette?"

    "No - that's something she hates. Hates smoking. She's out there - on board a ship."

    "You two don't get on?"

    "We love each other! But you see, she's a virgin."

    "Oh. You mean you can't get it up?"

    "Every time I so much as think of her I can hardly keep it down! But I can't get it up her."

    "I see, we're back to basics - so she won't let you?"

    "She wants me to - but she's there on the ship and I'm here on the land."

    "That would make it tricky."

    Joe nodded vigorously. "You see, I missed the boat."

    "You can say that again, buddy."

    Mamie slid off her stool, and, shaking her head, slipped quietly from the bar. Boy, can I pick 'em she thought again, what a dodo, as she headed sadly out into the night en route to her lonely bed.

   * * * *

   ___________________________________________________________________