The village of Oakvale-On-Roe is in the north of the relatively small English county of
Downshire, situated between the old market Town of Nettlebridge, and their more affluent neighbour Roespring, and on
the west side of the village, running parallel to Roespring Road was Shepherds
Lane, lined on both sides by Victorian cottages, one side of the road backed
onto open farmland and part of the other side backed onto the St Nicholas
School playing field and on one Saturday morning Bernie Peak was at the end of the
garden in one of them pegging washing on a rotary line.
That
Saturday was the Annual Summer Fete so numerous people passed by the end of the
garden, he knew a few of them, but most of them were strangers, as he wasn’t
from the village, his home was in Sharpington.
He
was staying at his older sister’s house for a few weeks, because she was newly
divorced had moved into a new home, which was why he was using his annual leave
to help her and her three teenage daughters.
That
was the reason why he was helping out with the laundry, DIY, and unpacking
among other things, but that morning he was doing the laundry first.
“Look
at that, a real man, not” a commonly spoken young woman said.
“Don’t you know that’s women’s
work.”
He looked around and saw
through the chain link fence three girls walking past, two girls were dressed
in camel toe tight shorts, skimpy crop tops and were braless, and the third was
more modestly dressed in a skirt and top.
“Don’t let Germaine Greer hear
you say that” he said.
“German who?” one of them
asked.
“Never mind that look at the perve with
his knicker collection” the second one said.
“Do
you like girls panties perve?”
“What’s
your favourite colour perve?” the first one chipped in
“Definitely
Pink” he said looking at the modest girls and she blushed deeply, so he smiled
and then the girls moved away.
When he was pegging out the
third wash of the day, he was once again disturbed by a voice from beyond the
fence.
“How
did you know?”
He
turned around to discover it was the modest looking girl from earlier, so he
took a moment to peruse her.
He
guessed her age to be early to mid-twenties, with a sweet angelic face, which
was framed heavenly with rich soft yellow curls, the colour of ripened corn.
As he perused her, she looked back at him with soulful eyes, warm and inviting,
which were green with a hypnotic quality.
Her
exquisite nose was small and button like and was the perfect punctuation for
her pale pink lips, softly moist, with the hint of a smile playing around them.
“How
did you know?” she repeated.
“How
did I know what?”
“That
I was wearing pink….” She began.
“Panties?”
“Yes”
she replied blushing.
“You
told me,” he said.
“Me?”
she asked “How?”
“You
blushed”
“But
you looked straight at me when you said it” She pointed out.
“Well,
I looked at you because I thought you looked sexier than your tarty friends” he
explained.
“Oh”
she mused.
“Oh,
but they weren’t my friends, I know them from when we were at the same school”
she explained.
“We
just happened to pass your garden at the same time, and they were the sexy ones”
she said.
“I
don’t think so, you’re confusing tarty and sexy, they are the former you are
the latter” He replied and she blushed again.
After
a moment she asked
“Why
do you have so much women’s underwear? are you a pervert?” she asked and she
unleashed a full-bodied beam of a smile and her whole face lit up, bright
enough to dazzle the stars which made her green eyes seductively beguiling.
He
explained to her that he was visiting from Sharpington to support his sister
after her divorce and then she and her three daughters seemed to possess an
endless supply of underwear.
“I’m
pleased that you are not a pervert” she said and smiled again before walking
away.
“I
don’t know your name” he called and she stopped and turned to face him.
“Armorel,”
she replied “Armorel Delaney”.
“That’s
a beautiful name” he retorted “is it French?”
“No,
it’s Gaelic, it translates to “one who lives by the sea,”
“That’s
ironic” he said.
“How
so?”
“I
live by the sea, and you live in the foothills of mountains” he said and
laughed.
“I
don’t get it”.
“My
name is Peak” he explained and then she smiled.
That
wasn’t the last time he was to see her after he watched her walk away because a
couple of days later he and two of his nieces boarded the mobile library parked
by the village green and once inside he discovered that the Librarian was
Armorel.
“Well
hello Armorel,” he said, “These are my nieces Lily and Daisy, they are new to
the village and would like to join”.
“Hello
girls, let’s get you signed up then” she said.
While
the girls filled in the forms Bernie browsed the shelves and Armorel walked
past him and whispered
“I’m
afraid we don’t have any lingerie fetish books at the moment, but I can order
something suitable for a Lingerie Expert”.
The
girls finished signing up and chose a book each and said goodbye and went down
the steps and as he prepared to follow, he said.
“I
wouldn’t say I was an expert, just a gifted armature”.
“Ok
then what colour am I wearing today?” she asked wearing a wry smile.
He
closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples for a moment and replied.
“Ivory”
he replied and went down the steps.
“How
do you do that?” she called after him
On
Friday evening he took a walk into the village and called in at the Ramblers
for a pint, and as it was a warm day he sat at an outside table and while he
was enjoying his beer, he read his book.
“Do
you mind if I join you?” Armorel asked
“Yes,
please do” he said and closed his book.
“What
brings you here?” she asked as she sat.
“I’m
just enjoying a quiet pint” he replied.
“And
you?”
“I’m
meeting my sister” Armorel replied, “But I’m early”.
There
was a brief period of small talk regarding their family and she asked.
“So,
if you are not a lingerie fetishist or a full-time pervert what do you do for a
living?”
“I
own the Vanguard cinema in Sharpington” he replied and that prompted another
prolong period of small talk but then she could wait no longer.
“So,
are you going to tell me?” she asked.
“What
about?”
“How
you knew what knickers I was wearing on the Mobile Library” she said in a
hushed whisper
“Do
you think it’s the dark arts?” he teased.
“Tell
me, put me out of my misery” she begged.
“Theres
no mystery, I caught a glimpse of bra strap when you were dealing with the
girls, and I figured someone as classy as you wouldn’t wear mismatched
underwear” He explained.
“That’s
how I know you’re wearing jade tonight” he said.
“Unbelievable”
She exclaimed and checked her neckline “They’re not even showing”.
“I
only need a glimpse” he said.
“Wait
a minute” she said, “You think I’m classy?”
“Very”
he confirmed and sipped his beer as she blushed.
They
went on their first date the following evening and he took her into
Nettlebridge for dinner at the Jewel of India and two days later they went back
and went to the Penny Odeon to watch an Alfred Hitchcock double bill and
returned twice more over the two weeks following.
But
on the morning before he was due to return home to Sharpington they had
arranged to meet at her parents’ house before going for a couple of drinks at
the Ramblers and then on to take a walk, across the River along Stone Bridge
Lane and then along the path up to the wooded hills, but it was a drizzly day
so she was wearing a raincoat when she invited him in.
“Are
we not going out?”
“I
thought you could demonstrate your lingerie fetish first” Armorel said.
“Ok”
“So
what colour am I wearing today?” she asked.
“I
can’t tell while you’re wearing a coat” he pointed out.
“Oh
ok” she responded and began unbuttoning her raincoat and when she shrugged it
off her shoulders, she was naked apart from stockings and suspenders.
His
eyes consumed the vision of her nakedness, beginning with her perfect pert
breasts surmounted by rose pink nipples, and then down to the dark gold
triangle.
“So?”
“You’re
mismatched”
“I’m
what now?”
“Pink
up top and yellow below” he mused.
“Do
you want it or not?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“Oh
yes, all day long” he replied and wrapped his arms around her.
“Good
because you’re going to get it all day long” she retorted.
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