This tale documents the first time Darla was invited, with new significant other, to eat, make merry and maybe stay over. Moll n Frank knew Darla from her old life; when she was the before wife. Moll had worked alongside her for several years, they were quick fire jesters who dropped double entendre’s back and forth; like humbugs in a playground. They had sons who were nodding acquaintances, but besides that they just clicked. Frank was an unassuming man that adored his wife, Darla had only met him once or twice, a man of few words; he’d have to be with Moll for his wife.
Darla was nervous and wanted to show Mark; Mr significant other, how he’d be accepted by her friends also how much fun being with her could be. She dressed with care, perfume and panache, stuffed a large handbag with some bits a toothbrush, a silky slip; secretly called her wishing gear. Mark and Darla arrived in his two-seater speedster with the roof down. “Mark, I looked nice when we left home” she cried, trying to untangle her hair with her fingers. Giving her a lazy grin he pulled on the roof unfurled himself from the car and said “You look lovely”, his warm brown eyes twinkled and followed the line of her body, she shot him a pink-cheeked smile as she straightened her skirt.
They walked around the house baffled, looking for the door, eventually, Darla dialled Moll, “We are outside Moll, Which door? Where do we get in?” Moll came laughing to the conservatory, explaining one door was to her sons flat, the other Aunties entrance. Quickly she ushered us into a hallway strewn with toolboxes and electric drills. “Husband and son in construction” she called as she glided elegantly over obstacles, waving her hands about for balance, “watch your step”.
Introductions were made and drinks dished out in glasses as large as buckets. Frank quietly passed out nibbles at the large Kitchen table, while Moll stirred something on the range. Auntie wandered in wearing a pink nylon dressing gown and a sweet smile, she sang Polly put the kettle on and wobbled up to the table; shuffling her feet. Moll shouted, “Frank now!” Frank turned her around and softly crooned in her ear as he took her to back to bed. Having been pre-warned, Mark didn’t bat an eye, lazily lifted his drink and swallowed. Moll poked a wooden spoon into her hair, strained and drained pans, constantly chattering as she did.
Frank returned after a few minutes “Come with me” he said as he ushered us outside. Sparkly lights and candles flickered. A table was set and Lights glistened off the pool like a fairy tale. Sitting opposite Mark, Darla kicked off her shoe and gently pushed his trouser up and stroked his leg. Unfortunately Mark thought it was the dog, scooted his chair back and peered under the cloth. Quickly tucking her feet under her chair, Darla feigned ignorance; although her red face gave her away. At that moment, Frank and Moll carried in trays of food, Darla in a high pitched voice said “Look at this you must have been cooking all day? I don’t know how you do it “. “It’s nothing but a few things in a pan, I let the range do the rest” she clattered spoons and china down. They brought back a pot of Thai curry, pilau rice, and warm naan bread with oodles of little side dishes.
After two wines Darla knew to stop; she needed her wits about her and didn’t want to get anything wrong. There was a gentle hum to the night as Mark was encouraged to tell his sailing adventures. They all made the right noises so he would elaborate. Mark held everyone in the palm of his hand. Darlah and Moll cleared up and left Frank discussing the plight of construction.
“What do you think? Isn’t he smashing? She whispered,” I hope you like him, Frank seems to… doesn’t he? Darla garbled the minute they were alone. “You landed on your feet”, Moll’s eyes filled” about time something good happened to you, grab it, girl, enjoy every minute”. She winked, lifted her head as someone came in. “Oh, I say you’re quite the gent Mark, pop them on the table” Mark slid the loaded tray across the bleached pine and asked if he could help. “No, all is in hand, you can tell Frank to pour the dessert wine”. Moll and Darla grinned and squeezed each other tightly. Dessert was key lime pie followed by coffee, cheese and biscuits port and Brandy.
Darla was squiffy though she did her best to walk with poise to the washroom. As she stood she pulled the tableware with her. Quick thinking had Mark stretching to grab the table cloth, he pulled it from the waistband of her skirt; which saved further embarrassment. Grateful for the intervention but acutely embarrassed at yet another blunder Darla hid in the washroom until her scarlet face cooled, lipstick had been refreshed, and poise was gathered.
Holding her head high her shoes clicked across the patio. It was then when walking past them to take her seat, she saw Frank’s mouth opening and closing; like a fish gasping for air. She heard a titter from Moll gather momentum and explode into laughter as she wiped her eyes with her napkin and pointed towards her friend. “What? Have I missed something?” Darla turned in the direction of the hand, feeling sure she would find the cause of such laughter; there was nothing. Within a flash, Mark was holding her back firmly against his torso… he tugged the hem of her skirt free. That was when she realised, her sexy lingerie had been on show. Stockings, garter, suspenders and worst of all her thong. Her sister persuaded her to buy them telling her how lovely she’d feel and how much her effort would be appreciated. Darla who had not worn or owned anything like it before was mortified. She gulped for air, sniffed and flicked her hair and with all the elegance she could muster, took her seat, thrust her glass towards the centre of the table, and in a clear voice said… “Time for fizz I suspect”.
This is part one of Darla’s story, I hope you like it enough to leave a comment and watch for part two.
“Has something akin to this happened to you?” I would love to hear your opinions and views in the comments. Have a great week.
Post script… Any resemblance to persons known or unknown or any similar situation is absolutely coincidental .
I Thank my husband for the photo of his car and pixabyfreeimages for all others.