Fifty Shades of Grey-ish. The Climax

_{A Searing Expose of the Secret Sex Lives of the Over Fifties,}

_{in Swinging Suburbia.}

_{The Finale:}

_{Part Eight: What an elegant, swell-agant party, this...}

_{George and Angela, stood there, on the-point-of-no-return, trying their best to bolster each others spirits up, whilst simultaneously attempting to hide their own fears and doubts, from one another. Ironically though, they probably felt more closer together at this moment - over their impending sexual soiree – than they had, for quite some time. There was almost, a kind of Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid, feel to it all - two outlaws, with their backs against the wall, facing over-whelming odds. Only, instead of jumping off a precipice, into a raging torrent below, these two renegades were about to take a leap into the unknown, and head long down, deep into the bowels of lust and desire..}

_{They wallowed for a while, in a conspiratorial frame of mind, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move, then George spoke, “ Well, I guess this is it, then ! It's to late now for a doctor's sick note, or a letter from your mother excusing you from any games.” Angela, smiled at the thought, George had always been able to make her laugh, even when faced with her own personal fears or during those moments where life felt, just that little too... 'serious'. “ Yes, I suppose we should head on down there,” Angela gestured towards the stairs,with a slight tilt of her head, “ before they send out a search party for us.”}

_{"Let's make a pact with each other, shall we ? Just in case either of us find we're in a position we can't get out of !” suggested George.}

_{"I thought that was the whole idea of this evening, a different kind of perspective, a new twist on old things,” countered Angela. “ But, I get what you mean, we should have a sort of, 'safe', word to cover our backs... figuratively speaking, that is !” she agreed.}

_{"Okay, then how does, ' hope ' grab you ?”}

_{"Hope ? Why that ?” Angela queried.}

_{"Because, I'm beginning to think that we haven't any !” came his explanation.}

_{"Hope, it is then ! Now, let's just get done there, face the music, and front it out,”}

_{"Front it out ! Are you talking about Lucinda, again ?” George responded rhetorically .}

_{"Lord, Lulu ! I forgot all about her, she must have her hands full down there by now, with all those men around her !” Angela exclaimed.}

_{"I'm more concerned for the men's sake, than hers !” George revealed.}

_{"Come on then, let's shake a leg, it's time to face our obligations, social or otherwise, and we need to relieve Lulu, right now ! ” acknowledged Angela.}

_{They left the safety and decorum of their boudoir, and holding each others hands, they slowly descended the stairs, pass the collection of photographs adorning the walls - reflecting so many memories and ever expanding family members, accrued during a life-time spent together - into the waiting arms, or any other appendages, of their newly acquired 'friends'. Once they reached the bottom, they were immediately approached by Roger – one of George's best mates, and former very friendly, neighbourhood milkman, and twice winner of Housewives Choice of the Year – who accosted the pair, armed with just a quarter a bottle of scotch and a 90% proof disposition, “ Where the heck have you two been hidin', then ?” he enquired. “ It's bad form you know, to help yourselves before your guests,” he continued, “ I mean where would we all be if we just played around with ourselves, as it were ?”}

_{"You've got it wrong mate, we weren't having any fun, upstairs, “ George tried to explain.}

_{"You can say that again !” Angela joined in, disapointingly.}

_{Roger, stood before them, swaying gently from side-to-side, as if he were being pushed around by an unseen force. He hadn't let the passing years effect his wardrobe or his self-belief that he was still a virile, ladies man. He was suburbia's answer to Dorian Gray, except he's delusion was purely a personal matter, a localized phenomenon, as everyone else saw him as the silver-haired, velvet jacket, cravat wearing, ageing Lothario, that he actually was. He was one of the major mover-and-shakers in this little clique, who fully embraced the swinging lifestyle. Roger, had always been something of a trail-blazer – he was the first of Georges's mates to go through the mid-life crisis.}

_{Roger, looked at them, one at at time - as it was proving difficult to focus with a multi -person option – for a moment, whilst composing his vernaculars, “ So, are we goin' in then, or what ?” he slurred, gesturing towards the room, which was being referred to as the 'SIN-gles Lounge' for the purposes of the evenings activities. 
"Yeah, of course ! You go first, we'll bring up the rear !” suggested George. “ Hey ! Nobody, butt nobody is bringing up my rear, I'm not that sort of boy !” ejaculated Roger.}

_{" I know that Roger, you've taking it the wrong way, that's all. I only meant to say, that your my point man, on this mission, mate, straight up !” George tried to pacify his com-padre.}

_{"Okay, now that we've finally got that sorted boys, can we please just get on with this thing ?” Angela's frustration was starting to bubble to the surface. And with that, she grabbed hold of Roger, by the arms, spun him around to face the ' Sin-gles Lounge' and sent him launching through the door. She then followed this successful maneuver, by thrusting her husband ahead of her, into the throbbing masses.}

_{Once inside, the three amigoes, suddenly found themselves face to face with the steaming under-belly of suburbia's, secret swinging scene, in all it's gory, glory. As they surveyed all that was laid bare before them, they experienced a temporary state of paralysis of mind and body.}

_{George was the first brave enough to speak, as he thought he recognized a 'celebrity', “ Hey, isn't that the MP of the news ?” he quizzed.}

_{"Which one ?” Roger returned.}

_{"You know, the one without a portfolio “}

_{"Really ! It certainly doesn't show...not from the way he's conducting himself !” Angie joined in.}

_{"Wot do yer think he's doin' here ?” puzzled Roger.}

_{"By the look of it, I'd say he's going for re-election,” informed George,}

_{"I don't think he's gonna make it...not from that angle, anyway ! “ Roger surmised.}

_{"That's a bit hard mate ! He might be able to suddenly increase in his majority, near the end ” smirked George.}

_{Roger stiffled a laugh, and added,“ A swing to the left wouldn't go amiss either. “}

_{"What's this, some sort of new stand-up routine, you two ?” Anglea joined in.}

_{"No, we're just polling around !” finished George.}

_{As they began to feel a little more confident with their new environment, and being slowly accepted by this small sexpeditionary party – previously only known as the collective noun of 'neighbours' – that it finally began to dawn on them, the full extant of what they had let themselves in for.}

_{George's attention, was first drawn to the dining room table, and in particular the surviving comestibles of a once proud buffet, it somewhat reminded George of a sort of culinary crime scene, the evidence of which, clearly highlighted his worst fear, that one - or possible multiple - double dipping violations had occurred. From, there on in, things began to take an unexpected dark turn. As he noticed , whilst all the dips were completely empty, all the nearby crudities were relatively untouched – leaving to a sobering conclusion: just what had been used to convey the savory delights to their final destination ?}

_{Angela, was more stunned with the overall scene, how could anyone that was living so closely to her, act in such a manner and with so many other third-parties, too ? And in HER own living room, no less....would she ever be able to sit on their couch again, without thinking of them from Number 88, and a bottle of chocolate sauce ! To her provincial way of thinking, it looked more like some kind of bizarre movie-crossover, like the 'Carry On's', meet 'A Funny Thing Happened To Me on the Way to the Forum', meets the Darby & Joan set – ' A Saucy Thing Happened To Me on the Way to pick up Me Pension ! - a far cry from the wild, Olympic inspired, sexually indulgent excesses of those Joan Collins sex-ploitations, that she encountered in her youth.}

_{From across the other side of the room, Lucinda suddenly caught sight of her friends, and swathed her way over to the pair, like some Amazonian champion, pushing and pulling people from one clinch to another, in order to create the necessary path to meet her own her ends.}

_{"At last ! I was beginning to think that I'd been deserted... any longer on my own and things were about to get on top of me ! I tell you, a girl needs two pairs of hands, eyes in the back of her head and the ability to think on her feet, when she's running one of these bashes ! It's definitely a two man job...no offence George !” Lucinda shot a playful aside at our male counterpart. And with this, she hooked her arm around Angela's, and placing her other hand, in a reassuring clasp on Angela's upper arm, she led her way from the boys, and headed out into an alternative life-style.}

_{George, stood next to Roger for a moment, until his mate suddenly felt the 'call of nature', the precise details of which, George, didn't care to delve into. Left to his own devices, his gaze wandered over the portmanteau of appendages and the assortment of physical scenario's. He was most surprised at just how well displayed & cared for, the leather and rubber based boots were - that many of the female congregation, and in one instance, the church's sexton – that now stood, slowly swaying to and fro, back and forth, up and down, in front of him, like a black, rolling sea of PVC. It almost made him feel sea-sick - that, along with the heavy fragrance of burnt josh-sticks that hung in the air – so much so, he felt compelled to head towards 'open water ', or at least the nearest source of fresh air, available to him. He looked over to the bay windows, and plotted his course, through the strait of laced pleasure and around the cape of good horn. He set sail and launched himself into the uncharted territories of sin, almost running aground from the start. as he came up short, unexpectedly, upon the lady from No 21. Her heavily plastered leg, stretched straight out in front of her, a result of a ski-ing accident – she opened the under stairs cupboard, and her son's set of ski's fell on her foot – leaving her with a broken big toe, with several smaller ones coming out in sympathy. In performing an emergency side stepping procedure, - in order to circumnavigate this piece of flotsam - he almost lost his own footing, and headed towards the welcoming lap of her, from No 13. Fortunately, this position was already occupied, by the fellow from Number...,no, George was unable to discern the gentleman's identity as his face was too obscured by the lady's generous thighs. Then, without warning, an errant head loomed up sharply, from out of ….someone, and made abrupt contact with his groinal area. George, doubled up in discomfort and winced slightly, before lurching his way through the remaining forest of limbs. He landed safely, on the other side of the room, grasping the sashed, light beige , full length curtains for support – both physical and morally – and straighening himself up, swung from them, in a kind of senior, jungle man movement - Tarzan , Lord of the O.A.Ps. In one bold, but very rash move, he reached the main window, just before the curtain rail came away from the wall. Transferring his weight and rapidly growing annoyance to the double glazed frame, he thrust it open, and leant the whole of his upper body outside, gasping for the cold, fresh air of reality and the welcoming if-don't-look--then-it's not really-happening, darkness of the night.}

_{In the meantime, Angela was getting the full 'low-down', on her guests and their all their little peccadilloes, from her overly experienced friend. She could hardly believe what she hearing let alone what she was seeing – her only relief was that she had decided not to change the light fittings recently, as she was sure they'd be swinging from them too, if they could. Lucinda, had painted – by numbers - a pretty racy picture of her senior cohorts, she knew all their guilty secrets and some not so secret, but all the more guilty ones. There was a particular story she wanted to regale to Angela, concerning a nearby-resident, and his dark, private obsession with exposing himself in public places, or revealing his public area in not so private places, depending on how you looked at things. On one occasion he warranted a full page layout in the local rag, after he was arrested for carrying a, very, offensive weapon, it was alleged that he repeatedly flashed a group of women, during a Lesbian march, on the way to the Town Hall. He received a suspended sentence after arguing that he was compelled to stand-up for his rights, against over-whelming odds. Lucinda had to curtail any further scandalous revelations, as they were approached by the aforementioned party, and she could see that he was anxious to bring something to her attention.}

_{George, looked out over the estate, and the claustrophobic layout, of the houses, some of which still hadn't drawn their curtains. He couldn't help but wonder what the other inhabitants, of this 'cosy' little close were occupying themselves with, this evening. He knew, that at least one of,}

_{Ken , a kindred spirit other-worldly -not football – matters, would be watching a documentary about the electrification of the railways – lucky devil, thought George. Then he noticed the 'Drakes', from across the road, they were a young family, who had been strike down with the quadruplets strain , straight out of the starting blocks of family life. He could see through their window, Mr Drake, cradling two bouncing, bawling babies – one over each shoulder – whilst Mrs Drake was feeding – 100% full breasted – another one, at the same time gently rocking the final band member, in a pushchair. It was quite a silent study of mayhem, George wasn't able to hear any screaming or crying – from either party – but by the look of the body language, he could tell that there was an air of stress mixed liberally with sweat and tears. Four young babies, all the feeding, washing, nappy changing, rocking, playing, and they're all...girls ! Yes, there was one house where there wasn't going to be any hanky-panky tonight – lucky sods – George thought to himself.}

_{Then, from back inside his own home, George heard a strange, short, manic squeal, followed by a small commotion. Turning round, he soon found the cause of the contretemps, the now fully naked, flash-by-night enthusiast, was seemingly in the middle of displaying his recently installed cock-adornment, to the girls – Lucinda & Angela. But, somehow, he had managed to get himself 'engaged', with Angela's wedding band....and his own cock ring - in a bizarre version of a conjurers, magic ring trick. Which led to an exchange of mutual surprise and horror, between the two unwilling participants. What followed next, was a kind of adult, marionette show , with added strangled, vocal arrangements, from both performers ! Angela's hand pulled, pushed and shook, to-and-fro, but everywhere that Angela went....his – bruised – manhood, was sure to go !}

_{This was the final ignominy, a straw too far for George, he had about as much as he could take, he had come to the end of the line. It was time to bring this evening to a premature conclusion. " I'm coming, darling ! " he shouted, to reassure his troubled spouse, and then without a thought to his own well-fare or concern about anyone else, he ploughed his way back through the black leather encased legs, as they all jostled, collided and mingled with one another, in mid-air – in some kind of High Impact, Soft Core workout, or other. As, he swept across the room laying waste to any opposition, -and various medical conditions - driven on by a mixture of desperation and adrenaline. He, miraculously, vaulted over one nameless soul, as they rose up in front of him, from the heaving masses below. Only to be met on the other side, with another more immediate threat to his personage, in the shape of a pair of irregular legs, springing up from either side of him. For a moment he thought he was going to end up the victim of a human nutcracker, but he quickly and instinctively swatted away the nearest leg to him, to buy in much needed response time. This action was followed by an unexpected & unearthly moan – one seemingly borne of pain, not pleasure – which seemed to originate from somewhere beneath George. He glanced down and realised the result of his actions, for there lay before him, was her from number 13, which was rather surprising to George as she had only just been released from hospital, following a successful hip operation. So, what he thought were two, individually owned, set of pins, turned out to be a soul occupant situation. And the unnerving sound that she was now emitting, was obviously caused by some form of high discomfort, probably by having her pelvis spread – forcibly - wider apart, than the recommended distance, by any leading doctor !}

_{While all this fracas was taking place, Angela had managed to tear herself away from her temporary 'attachment' – details best not described, due to pending legal case – and was now only discernible from her derriere, as only this was displayed to all a sundry her head, being buried deep into Lucinda's shoulder for comforting and denial. Whilst, George was trying to extract himself from the emotional melt-down, the centre of which, he now found himself implicated in.}

_{Once, people had taken stock of their own, particular predicament, and assessed whether or not they wished to found in such a state of affairs, it didn't take too long for the party to break up, and the guests to fall out. An ambulance had been requested – along with a rumour that the police might be involved - for number 13, revealed now to be a Mrs Bickerswick, and her mis-spent hips, as well as for the unfortunate gentleman, who suffered for his art - at the hands of Angela – but just as as cautionary measure. Lucinda offered her assistance, to help clear up, but Angela and George, insisted that they just wanted to be on their own, for now, and would probably sort everything out, in the morning.}

_{Standing in the middle, of what used to known as their living room - but now resembling something more like a crime-scene - they couple just stood close to each other, holding one another, gently, in their arms. What ever tonight had been about, seemed almost incidental at this point. George looked lovingly down at his wife, she was and always will be his mate, that was never in question, and she held her husbands gaze, he was her best friend, and she still loved and cared for him, it was just sometimes they wondered if they were missing out on anything, in life. George smiled, as he suddenly remembered something, and then started singing, uncharacteristically, “ The world don't move to the beat of just one drum, What might be right for you, may not be right for some...” Angela, smiled back, her eyes slightly tearing up, “ I know darling, Let's not do this again, please, it's not really us, is it ?” And as she finished saying that, the hi-fi skipped to a new track, and Louie Armstrong, came on, with his fine rendition of} 

_{"We have all the time in the world”, George, slipped his arm around Angela's waist, " I couldn't have put it better, "he said, as they started to slowly, rhythmically sway together, completely unaware - or didn't care - as the last curtain slipped from it's derailed track, onto a heap on the floor. Leaving them completely revealed to the passing world, outside, they may have been moving to Mr Armstrong's smooth music, but from now on, they were going to dance to just their own tune.}

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