Donna and Togetherness

I cannot claim that this is an image of Donna and me. But so often we lay like this in a delicious aftermath of our lovemaking.

I remember one evening we had been preparing for Nellie's imminent hen weekend which, as Matron of Honour, it was my responsibility to arrange. I had contacted a small hotel some thirty miles from Bath and we were due to visit the following morning. We were lying in bed in much this position when Donna's hand strayed, yet again, between my legs.

It is odd that we sometimes use long-forgotten expressions from our childhood at strange moments. I said softly to Donna, 'My tweenies are sore.'

'Tweenies?'

I immediately regretted using this word. I had an aunt, my mother's much younger sister Lisa who had been kind when my mother had not and had often looked after me during my holidays. She was a librarian at a nearby academic institution, single and referred to herself, with some sense of defiance, as a spinster. She was a little old-fashioned with regard to many things, not least physiology and had always referred to the private parts as 'tweenies' since they were between the legs. One had a front tweenie and a back tweenie and that was that. Perhaps it was that delicious feeling of safety and protection that our position had created that made me revert to a childish word but Donna seized upon it and I knew that from now on I should never be allowed to forget it. My explanation made her giggle.

'Oh, College! That's one for the book that is.'

The following morning we visited the hotel. The owner was a lugubrious woman of about 50 years, slightly greying hair and rather shabby but obviously expensive clothes. We explained it was for a hen weekend.

'Ah, hen weekend. Will there be drinking?' We thought that inevitable. 'Vomiting?' We'd keep that to a minimum. 'Noise?' Unavoidable but we'd try not to disturb other guests. 'No, there won't be any other guests. Will you be having strippers?' We had not planned any. 'Shame, I like strippers. Never mind, you might come round to it.'

We aranged for a good dinner on the Friday night after work. 'Will you want posh?' She explained that the staff could wear ordinary clothes, or for a small additional charge, uniforms. 'They don't like the uniforms. I do but they'll only wear them if I pay.' She described them and we decided that it woul be a hoot to be served by french maids with all the trimmings. On the Saturday morning she could arrange a clay pigeon shoot for the twelve guests and on the evening we could have a buffet and do the usual stuff like games and, she reiterated, vomiting. She semed to have somehow come to the gloomy conclusion that hen parties had an invariable formula which involved over drinking and sick. Knowing Nellie and her friends I felt this was realistic.

'Pity about the strippers. I do enjoy a good stripper.'

Donna and I travelled home. I was driving my rather disreputable elderly Ford when Donna said, 'How are the tweenies?'

I snapped a little brusquely, 'They are fine, no thanks to you!'

'Now, my little Pussypaedia, explain if you will what it means when someone gives a bride away.'

'I believe it is a hangover from times past when a woman was the property, literally, of her father until he gave her way and she became the property of her husband. I cannot explain why we still use the term.'

'Sounds positively mediaeval to me. Now since, for dfferent reasons, we have nobody to give us away in the evnt of our marriage what would we do?'

'Well, I suppose we could do like Nellie and find someone who was willing or simply do without. Were you considering marriage?'

'Who'd have me?'

'Good point.'

Donna chuckled and muttered 'tweenies' and I slapped her leg. 'You might find someone if you weren't such a beast.'

Donna pondered this then leaned to kiss my ear. 'We are married, College. We just don't need a piece of paper to prove it. Good job for me you like a beastly tease.'

'It's only the sex. But for that i'd throw you out.'

'Best we get home so I can pay the rent then.'