It made me realise that there was some family out there, but they had not helped when I needed it, so sod them.
Simon booked us a skiing holiday to the Pyrenees, and on the 20th of December, we caught a flight for France. The resort was called La Mangie, and it was a few hours drive south of Lourdes Airport.
I had had a few hours skiing when younger, but nothing really. Needless to say, Simon was an advanced skier, and was happy to teach me. We had a lovely room in a sweet little hotel, and it was all very cosy.
The resort was purpose built, and fortunately they had an early fall of snow, so all runs were open. I had spent a fortune on some really showy ski clothes, and looked really professional right up to the moment I first snapped on my skis.
But Simon was really patient, and by the third day he took me up the chair lift, and we had a gentle ski back down. I remembered all my very early lessons, and could snowplough, and even just about execute a parallel turn. Many a time we ended up in a heap in the snow, convulsed with the giggles.
It was super fun, and I learned I had muscles that I had never used before. The après ski was superb also, and we had wonderful meals, with far too much wine and beer.
We had two weeks of constant companionship, every minute of every day. The days were spent on the slopes, and the evenings in different restaurants. Every night, we spent in each others arms, making love for as long as our stamina would allow.
Being December, it was very cold, but still we managed to improve our suntans. Christmas day was a special time, and we exchanged stockings in our bedroom at about eight in the morning.
I bought him a man’s ring, with my name engraved on the inside, and he placed it on his ring finger. It had two diamonds set in it, linked together by a stylised chain. I also bought him some little jokey things, like a set of playing cards with my photograph on the back, and a willy measurer, that had inches that were rather shorter than standard.
He gave me a set of really sexy red and black underwear, a basque, with bra, knickers, suspender belt and several sexy stockings. I immediately tried them on, and the result was eminently predictable.
We ambled into the little church, and sang some carols in French. I held Simon’s arm, and was about the happiest I could ever remember.
The atmosphere in the resort was so friendly it was one huge family party, and we made lots of friends. A few people recognised me as a model, but mostly I was as anonymous as the next person. And it was brilliant.
New Year was equally fun. And we saw it in at the hotel, and with an awful lot of alcohol.
I dimly recall stripping down to my new underwear, and dancing a Cancan on the table. I do remember waking up with a terrible head, and still wearing some of the underwear.
I grew up a lot on that holiday. I learned how to be grown up, and how to love my man with my heart, soul and body. I gave my all to him, and he to me. We accepted that we were true soul mates, and we returned refreshed and renewed to our rather dull scholastic existence.
School life droned on. I was accepted by everyone without exception, and even made some really good friends. But in many ways, I was older than all of them, and only stayed to get my qualifications. I was granted permission to use my car, as I had no parents I was considered an exceptional case. It was mildly amusing to see me, a sixth form student, parking my year-old silver Mercedes cabriolet sports car next to the headmaster’s five year old Vauxhall Omega.
I became involved in some school activities, but gradually bowed out in favour of younger girls who needed experience in interaction with peer groups. The cheerleader squad was the first to go. I still watched and helped coach, but it wasn’t really my thing. I would go home and prepare a meal for Simon who was inevitably later than I.
My modelling gradually encroached on my time, and Jemima did try to restrict the hours I was given, but I found myself in demand more and more.
We completely redecorated the house, and gave all Dad’s hideous fixtures and fittings away to charities. It felt like home now, and we were very happy. Simon never mentioned marriage again, but I knew he wanted us to get married as soon as I finished school.
My eighteenth birthday sort of arrived while I wasn’t looking, and Simon, knowing I had more jewellery than I needed, bought me some more sexy underwear. I teased him that he bought it for me to wear, but for him to appreciate. He didn’t disagree, and it led to the usual amorous interlude.
Easter came, and I surprised Simon by booking seats on the Eurostar, and taking him to Paris. I had an apartment and had never seen it, so we went and had a week overlooking the Seine.
It was a really nice old-fashioned apartment, which had been recently redecorated. It was a little sparse, so we spent the first couple of days furnishing it to our standards.
We toured the art galleries, and bought loads of stuff he could use in his art classes. It was a cultural week, with the ballet and opera thrown in. We both had our portraits painted by pavement artists at Montmartre, and then Simon borrowed an artist’s easel and painted him, and then he tried me. He was actually better than the artist, and I loved him all the more.
I loved Paris, and so did Simon, and we were reluctant to leave. My French was actually very fluent, as we habitually used the small cafes and bars used by local people and not the tourist places.
But we had to return, and with some relief, I realised that this was my final term.
I worked hard, and within a few weeks all my exams were over.
Simon, however, was still working a long five-day week, whereas I was now a lady of leisure. Jemima soon filled my time, and I was all over the place modelling anything from clothes and make up to shoes and even sports equipment. I was then signed up to do my first T.V. commercials.
They were very slick, and the anti-perspirant company used my profession as an active model as the backdrop for the product. Sales went up, and I was more in demand. I advertised soap, shampoo, and even pizza.
I loved that advert, as I played myself as a pizza delivery girl to four loutish lads, who couldn’t believe that it was me. The pizza was called the Super-pizza, so Superbabe was brought in to deliver it.
Sales of that particular product soared, and Superbabe became hot property. I even registered the name, with a view of using it with my own products in the future.
I was approached by a well-known soft drinks company, and did a set of commercials for them. They were mini movies which all ended up with me flying through a window or similar, and quenching some poor schmuck’s thirst.
Then came the seductive chocolate bar, which, quite frankly was overtly phallic, and sexual. And then trainers, tooth brushes, ladies shavers and even tampons.
I had a ball, and most evenings would be home in time to cook supper, and spend the evening with Simon.
Simon was equally content. He adored teaching, and really had a gift. The students loved him, and the quality of the art exhibitions said it all. He knew how to bring the best out in people, and he just was a born teacher.
He was forever telling me that if it hadn’t been for me, he would probably have gone into pro-football, and he’d have never known the joys of teaching. It wasn’t all roses, as we both had our off-days. He was under pressure and stresses, as was I. And if it coincided with a certain time of the month, things could become very heated in our house.
Many times he would stomp off, and go for a drive to cool down, and I would chuck things about. But we always made up, and there was always a longer gap between bouts such as these.
Natasha flew in towards the end of the summer term, and came to stay without Wayne. I gathered that Wayne was history, and she was in the market for another man. I took a week off, just to spend some time with her.