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Please note: This short story is for ADULTS only.

Too Good to be True – A short story by Jan Marshall © 2008

Eddy lay back in bed with his hands folder behind his head. His eyes were closed and he was dozily reliving his most sublime hour. He found himself going step by wonderful step through the events of the evening culminating in him losing his virginity in Dorothy’s big, wide, wonderful brass bed.

The sound of the water running in the shower and his imagining what his “girlfriend” might look like lathering her naked wet body only distracted him briefly from his reverie.

The events of the evening took on a beauty that they had lacked at the time because of his nervousness. Laying there recalling it all, he felt imbued with a new sense of strength and self possession. He seemed older, wiser and enlightened; he had become a man.

How different it had been when he drew up outside her flat after their amazing evening. She had that forward in your face pushiness that he’s always associated with consuming large quantities of alcohol. He however, was completely sober as he didn’t believe in drinking and driving. The imbalance between their states had made him feel responsible and keenly aware. He remembered desperately hoping that nothing would happen to prevent them having sex.

She opened a bottle of wine as soon as they were upstairs and he immediately drank two extremely large glasses full to the brim; knocking them straight back as a kind of Dutch courage. It didn’t matter now because he could walk home from here, he thought.

To his amazement as he was finishing the second glass (which went straight to his head as he had an empty stomach) she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her.

In her stiletto heels they were about the same height and she kissed him full and firmly on the lips. It was a slightly awkward embrace initially but then he relaxed into it letting himself go, feeling wanton and abandoned for the first time in his entire life.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” she said, “You are a right tease making me wait like that, acting like Mr Super Cool!”

He felt anything but cool. He felt hot in every sense of the word. He kissed her back then, exploring her mouth was his tongue and reaching up to fondle her breasts clumsily. He felt himself stiffen and pushed himself firmly against her so she would know. He’d had no idea that kissing could be so addictive and enjoyable.

“Wow,” she said, “come this way!”

She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom and up to her big brass bed. She pushed him gently back on to the duvet and he kicked off his shoes and swivelled round so he was lying along the length of the bed. Instead of joining him she reached into the beside cabinet and taking two silk stockings she placed his hands above his head and secured each one to the rail with a firm tight knot.

He was a prisoner of love, vulnerable, scared and excited all in one go. She then climbed astride him and unbuttoned his shirt; opening it wide she ran her hot hands through his chest hair. She unzipped his trousers and with a little help from him by lifting himself, she pulled them over his feet removing his socks at the same time.

He then watched in complete amazement as she stripped her own clothes seductively off while still sitting astride him.

It was as if a Goddess had left her dwelling place in the astral realm and assumed a mortal guise to initiate him into love. She was simply heavenly. She was soft and lovely, rounded and firm. She had the authority and charisma of a deity. He was at her mercy and he bloody loved it. She could do with him as she wanted.

This seduction made him feel completely justified in having waited for so long to relieve his solitary existence. It was surreal, dreamlike – in fact he was nervous that he might suddenly wake up to the reality of his lonely single bed.

She took a condom from the packet he had thoughtfully provided and using her teeth and hands she tugged it carefully into place.

“It’s not true what they say about men who drive fast cars then!” She said laughing. “I’ve found myself a REAL man this time!”

As she lowered herself naked over him, teasingly slowly, he thought, this is it,  fate accompli. This is the moment that I have been waiting for. This is the experience that I have been plucking up my courage and summoning my inner strength for all my life. This is what I have been plotting and planning and scheming for. The moment of truth is upon me, push is about to become shove. I am committed to an irrevocable course of action; the chance to turn theory into reality has at long last arrived. Time seemed to grind to a halt; he watched her in slow motion. He felt breathless and impatient but being slightly inebriated helped him to feel relaxed. His inhibitions melted away, made possible by the alcohol flooding his system. Dorothy had guided him through the obstacles of the evening and now she was initiating him in the joys of sex. What a woman! What a randy hot and very sexy female! What a doll!

“Bloody hell,” he yelled loudly, “that’s fucking marvellous!”

Now from a post coital position of content, still naked and dozing he speculated on how pleased he felt that it had all gone so well. He felt their consummation had diminished his feelings of inferiority and social disadvantage caused by still being a virgin at his great age. It was as if he had suddenly turned into an adult version of himself – a version he was feeling very satisfied and at ease with. She had been an excellent teacher, the best.

He speculated on how often he might be able to have sex before he died. Well, the average couple do it twice a week, he thought. Fifty two weeks a year would total a hundred and four times annually and if he lived to be three score years and ten – well that was a lot of sex, he concluded. Bring it on!

He recalled the evening. The karaoke had been a real eye opener. He was staggered at how confident people with such minimal talent could be. They stood there singing completely off key and frequently forgetting the words whilst encouraged and egged on by a noisy and drunken crowd. Yet they didn’t seem embarrassed at all. In fact it was he who squirmed slightly when someone hit a particularly bum note; as if being there made him an accomplice in some way. He did eventually conclude that being able to sing properly wasn’t what it was all about. It was like a penny dropped in his brain; it was just about having a good time and going with the flow and being able to laugh at your self. He’d never been very good at that. That was probably why he was such a misfit. He’d never enjoyed small talk. In fact, whenever someone said, “Do you want to hear a joke,” he always instantly froze with concern, convinced that he wouldn’t “get” the punch line and in fear that everyone except him would be rolling round the floor with mirth at something that left him unmoved.

He hadn’t had to worry too much about conversation this evening though because Dorothy was very garrulous and most of the time anyway the microphone was in use, as one tone deaf singer after another showed off their lack of skill.

Towards the end of the evening Dorothy had insisted he take to the stage. He felt excruciatingly shy so he quickly knocked back Dorothy’s alcoholic drink safe in the thought that he would be within the legal limit as he’d been on tonic water all night.

He then instructed the organiser which music to play and then he picked up the microphone and sang. He kept his eyes on Dorothy the whole time, holding her gaze and leaving her in no doubt that this song was for her:

~

You’re just too good to be true.

Can’t take my eyes off of you.

You’d be like heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I’m alive

You’re just too good to be true

Can’t take my eyes off of you.

~

The rabble went completely silent. They were spell bound by Edward not just having a good voice but by his ability to sing in tune and word perfect. They applause was deafening and he was roped in to performing an encore whether he wanted to or not.

“Eddy, you can sing as well!” Dorothy whispered in his ear, “So many hidden talents! You’ve been hiding you light under a bushel from me!”

As he lay there recalling his evening of glory he couldn’t help wondering what it was that had made Dorothy fancy him. Just as he was speculating, Dorothy walked into the bedroom completely starkers with only a small hand towel draped over her arm.

“Come here,” he said with a new found assurance and command, “I want to get you all mucky again!”

“Why certainly Eddy, it will be my pleasure!” she purred.

This is just too good to be true he thought as she sashayed across the bedroom. Then he heard the loud chimes of his Big Ben repeater alarm clock ringing out in his ears.