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Used to work for AVIVA offshoring IT to India.  Now retired through ill health, writing my life story as a series of blogs chronologically from birth to current time.  At www.jw-alifeofsurprises.blogspot.com
 

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Splish Splash I was having a bath


Working in California was fantastic, everyone was really nice to me (oddly), and some of the jobs introduced me to very interesting people.  Sherry and Jim owned a beautiful house in the area of Hillsboro that lay just to the west of El Camino Real, they were not in the “hills”, but their home was worth a few bob.  They’d had a 2 storey extension built (using redwood) off the rear of the property, with a decking balcony off the master bedroom.  The whole rear interior had been stripped and oak kitchen cabinets had been fitted.  The wood was raw, so we had the job of lacquering it.  Every day Sherry would be waiting with fresh coffee (before we even started painting) and muffins (a selection), all very civilised.

They had a 17 year old daughter Stacey, who was studying dance and I would be dodging muffins and her dances all morning as I manoeuvred my way around the kitchen units.  Stacey would wear her leotard and would prance around the open plan living area, saying this was her new dance, what did I think.  As to the sight of a voluptuous 17 year old twirling around?  Stay strong Jonny, stay strong mate.  The carpenters were still on site and we’d been there 2 weeks, as they completed the decking area and balustrade.  One smoke break we got to talking about the family.  The father was a pilot with Delta and had been in the USAF, flew jets in Vietnam, and was apparently a Top Gun at Miramar Airbase.  We hardly ever saw him as he was always flying a plane somewhere, and I mentioned how nice the girls were (mum and daughter).  One of the guys made a snide comment about how I was the only one getting muffins and was I muffing the mother?
I laughed it off, but Paul said it was true.  The mum obviously had a crush on me and did I not see that.  “Oh yea!” I said.  And the daughter to they said, “Bollocks” was my reply.  Over the next few days it became apparent that something was going on.  One morning, I had to go upstairs to the deck balcony and knocked on the bedroom door.  Sherry called out “who is that”, “Jonathan” I said, “oh, come on in” she replied.  I walked into the bedroom, which had a corridor leading to the bedroom, behind the left-hand wall of which was the bathroom, I moved into the main room and walked towards the new double doors leading to the balcony.
“Don’t worry about me” she said, through the open bathroom door from behind the glass shower door.  I turned and got an eyeful of a forty year old mum of two, slim, still curved in the right places.  She held the typical “woman in shower pose”, arms up lathering her hair, to make her tits look higher............

“Ok” I shouted, nearly cracking up and walked out onto the balcony and shut the doors.  She was nice, but not THAT nice.  A few days later, I worked a Saturday morning and as Sherry let me in she said she had to go out, but that Stacey was in her room if I needed anything.  Stacey’s room was on the ground floor, off the kitchen, down a corridor.  The corridor had a second bathroom and utility rooms leading off it with Stacey’s bedroom at the very end.  The bathroom door was directly opposite the door leading to the kitchen, the door handle and locks of which, had yet to be fitted.  Ok, got the layout ok?  Good.

I got coffee and a pastry (no muffin here) and told her I was lacquering skirting boards and door frames.  She smiled (she was very fit and especially so in tight shorts, crop top and bobby socks) and walked to her room.  I was working my way around the open plan living room, up and down the new wooden double doors leading to the lower deck and along the skirting to the doorframe of the corridor door.  Up one side I went, along the top and down I went, passing the hole in the door where the handle and lock should be.  I had heard water being run in the bathtub as I was working and my eye was draw (!!!!) to the hole in the door and a clear view of Stacey on her knees, naked, bending away from me over the bath, as she swished the water, swish swash, swish.  I was frozen as she swished, I wanted to swish to.  Then I looked beyond her backside and the thing was, she was looking directly at me, and smiling.  She had been waiting there for me to reach the door frame.

“Fuck” I ducked back from the hole; I was no peeping tom, but fuck!  I wiped up the spilt mess, of lacquer, (aw c’mon on people!) that had dripped from my brush.  I coughed loudly (I thought if I made a noise she would cover up) and said “er hi Stacey, I er need to paint this door frame, so I am opening the door”. 

“OK” she called.  I pushed open the door and she had not moved.  “Fuck me!”  I said aloud.  “Yes please” she said.  So I did.  In the army, during training, we often had quick change parades, where we’d assemble outside in fatigues, then told we had 5 minutes to get into Combats, then told we had 5 minutes to get into overalls, etc.  I was therefore, very quick at getting debagged.  But I exceeded all records that morning.  I was in the bath with her for ages, creating suds and squeezing every drop of lather out of her sponge.  In fact, we only stopped just in time, as her mum came home minutes later.  “Your hair is wet and you have a rosy glow to my cheeks”, Sherry said.  I explained that I had gotten lacquer in my hair, when it brushed against a door jam and had washed it in Stacey’s bathroom.  She looked at me as if I thought she was mad, but said nothing.  She couldn’t really, given that she was up for it as well.
A few days later, Paul told me there had been a big argument between Sherry and Stacey.  Apparently Stacey had told her mum she loved me, her mum had said she was stupid and why would an English guy want a 17 year old Californian sex bomb?  Well not quite like that, but you get the gist.  We had to stop working there for a few months until the next bit of the job was completed, (the front room, and staircase).  Sherry said she was looking forward to a break from the paint fumes....I agreed a break was needed.

Around this time, my mate Rick contacted me from Norwich.  He had a friend (female) who had been living in Florida and was now travelling across the states.  Could I meet her and put her up for a couple of nights.  Her name was Jackie; I was to meet her at the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station in Daly City.  I waited at the station, at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the platform.  At the top appeared Jackie.  To say she was stunning would be a serious understatement. 

Long hair, small pretty features, slim, long legs, I stood there waiting, probably looking like a dickhead, as my tongue lay on the pavement.  We drove to the apartment and I gave her my room.  I bunked in with Mark and we lay chatting about how fit she was.  Mark was in a sleeping bag on the floor, as I told him my back was playing up, so he gave me his double bed (Muppet).  There came a knock on the door.  “Do you mind if I come in here and talk with you two for a while” she asked.  “No” came the unified response.  “Is it ok if I get in bed with you Jonathan as I am cold”, “no” came the singular response.  Cameron looked at me as if to say “I fucking hate you”.
She lay next to me, just an inch away, my arm to hers.  She had on a T-shirt and panties.  I had on my grots (army talk for under-crackers), and we talked.  I lay there wondering whether I had the guts to take her hand in mine.  Did I dare reach out?  If I did would she cry out, or take my hand in hers?  Mark chatted away like a politician, small talk being his speciality, whilst I fidgeted and fought the urge to touch the goodies next to me.  In the end, after what was a couple of hours, she took herself off to bed, either quite content to have had a nice bedtime chat, or disappointed that I did not try it on.  I like to think the later.  But the thought of what could have been, (should have been?) stayed with me for the few days she stayed.  She left, unsullied and unadulterated by seedy Weaver.

Not so Roya.  I had been working in Pacifica, along the Pacific coast of the Bay Peninsula and had met her whilst renovating a community centre.  She was of Arabian/American descent, dark and dusky, smoky eyes and hair that went on forever.  The charm pedal was pressed fully down as I chatted to her, whilst asking questions that checked out whether she was open to dates and dancing, and more?  She was, especially the more bit.  In fact, I had a real nutter on my hands, after only a week or so she was talking marriage and settling down.  What?  I did my best to make her understand that I was all about a relaxed attitude to relationships, but to no avail.  I ended it.  Had to, it would have been unfair to continue, I did not want to lead her along and despite her assurances that we could just be friends with benefits, I saw it for what it was, a trip to the church. 

I had pretty much moved from one short relationship to another and was not exactly looking for anything deep and meaningful.  I knew my mum wanted to come out in the summer and the plan was that she would stay for 5 weeks.  I would take time off and she said she would be quite happy sitting in the apartment whilst I was at work.  I was worried she’d get bored on her own, stuck in an apartment with nothing nearby, shops etc.  It would be nice I thought if she had some company. 
Then I met Tammy.  Tammy was a lively, pretty, all American girl, who reflected the current fashion trends at that time (1988), namely big hair, tight jeans, and tight tops.  We met through mutual friends, she was a waitress in a bar, and we got on.  
Tammy
Tammy lived in San Jose and we saw a great deal of one another at weekends and after work.  Most nights she come over and we would put on MTV and tell one another our stories (well not all my stories obviously, “yea let me tell you about the time I screwed this girl in Germany” not!!)  MTV was great and a sample of the artists and bands we listened to includes: - George Michael (of course!), INXS, Guns n Roses, Terence Trent Derby, (see poster on my bedroom wall in blog, http://jw-alifeofsurprises.blogspot.com/2011/12/loves-labours-lost-or-played-for-sucker.html), Richard Marx, Michael Jackson, Robert Palmer, UB40, Rick Astley, Breathe, Duran Duran, The Pet Shop Boys and Icehouse.  A fairly eclectic selection I am sure you will agree.



June was fast approaching; I had plans to fly home. Tammy and I had settled into a nice boy/girl relationship, just drifting along, going to see bands and out for drinks, and dancing. We spent a lot of time in my room, (of course) and her mum and dad were very friendly and welcoming. Life was great and most importantly, Mark, Andrea and Tammy all got on well.   An added bonus was that her mum said she would take my mum out, shopping and sightseeing. Fabulous.
Mark and Tammy on my bed - note shitty posters
Mark and Andrea were discussing moving in together and his friends at the Karate studio were often at our apartment.  I had a haircut, and CeCe my friend, waitress at La PiƱata and hairdresser, decided highlights would be the way to go.  I put on my Crocodile skin cowboy boots, leather jacket, faded 501’s and favourite T-Shirt with a picture of Hokusai’s “The Wave” on the front, and headed to SFO airport and a BA 747. 



Tanned and healthy I was doing my damndest to look like George Michael by now and I wanted to see if my sister, mum and nieces Claire and Katie would recognise me at Heathrow.

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