This happened years ago when I was working for a large motor manufacturer and had transferred from computer operations to the programming section, which employed about forty people. I could write IBM 370-Assembler and read mainframe machine language, and I moved into a new group which was developing a real-time on-line Purchasing system, until then all jobs had been batched and then run by computer operations. After a few weeks of the project we were joined by Nola. She was a first class honors IT graduate from the Australian National University (ANU) and when the manager saw her qualifications and experience he hired her on the spot.
Nola bears describing in detail. She was dark, attractive, of medium height with a solid and somewhat chunky build, very thick bobbed black hair, dark eyes and no makeup. At first sight she appeared to be a archetypal conservative ANU ‘blue stocking’; the first time I met her that is what she was wearing — lightweight blue woolen stockings. She dressed very soberly, often in dark green knee length tweed skirts, a high neck blouse and a matching tweed jacket — all good quality but very conservative.
Later, when another woman saw a photograph of her sitting up, naked, in my bed she said “My God, she’s gorgeous” — and that made me look again, and she was right. I’m not very body conscious — minds yes, bodies no — so I hadn’t thought of her in that way. She was also absolutely brilliant. Nola and I worked together and after a few days I said that while she didn’t need it I had noticed she wore no makeup and that was unusual. I asked her why that was. She said she was allergic to alcohol and that she didn’t use deodorants or perfumes either for much the same reason. And then it struck me that the musky smell she had when she leaned over me, which was often as we were working on the same problems in a small private room, was entirely her natural smell, and I realized what a turn on that smell was and I used to be rather aware of the effect it had on me.
Over a few weeks we became close friends — she wasn’t in the least bit crude or ‘ockerish’ — blunt yes, but not crude or sexist — and I think the fact I wasn’t either drew us together. One Friday afternoon it was hot and we were leaving work early: we had finished what we were working on, and it was too late to start something new, so we packed up. I said I was heading to the beach for a swim before I went home and Nola said she would love to come too but she didn’t have any swimwear with her. I said I didn’t either but where I was going that wasn’t necessary. She surprised me by saying “That sounds like my sort of beach, I’ll come with you”, so we went to my car and set off.
Adelaide used to be the city of pubs and churches and has fabulous beaches, especially to the south of the city, and 20 kilometers or so in that direction is Maslins, one of the country’s oldest nude beaches. It is internationally famous and an annual festival is held there. It is a large bay surrounded by cliffs, with golden sands and very safe swimming as the sand slopes gently away under water and there are no rips or holes. At that time it was fairly basic, with just a dirt parking area at the top and a toilet block half way down the cliff path. Adjacent to the toilet block there is a sign saying “Warning: Nude Persons May Be Encountered Beyond This Point”. In reality many people ignored that sign and instead took off all their clothes in the car park and left them in their car.
When we got to the car park that was exactly what was happening — a couple with two children were stripping off. It was then I realised Nola was totally unfazed by this — I had assumed she would be a little unbalanced by a new experience, but she didn’t appear to be at all put out. We stayed clothed and followed the family down the cliff path onto the beach and turned south where the nude half of the beach was. We got a few meters beyond where that section started and sat down and we both began to take our clothes off.
I tried not to look at Nola’s body as she undressed, but she said “It’s OK, you can look at me. What do you think?”. I said “OK, I think you enhance the beach very nicely”. We lay back in the hot sun for a while and then I found I was getting too hot and I went down to the water’s edge and lay with the water gently lapping over my lower legs. Nola came down too and lay on her back next to me. Then she turned towards me and kissed me expertly and deeply. I was already in serious danger of getting an erection and when she lay on top of me and reached down to fondle my penis I had to pull her hand away. She slid down so her head was level with my hips and started to take my penis in her mouth. I managed to say “Nola, it’s not that sort of beach, you can’t do that here. My place or yours?”. “Mine” she said.
So we put our clothes on, went back to the car and drove to her flat which she shared with one other young woman, who wasn’t there. We went straight into her bedroom and threw our clothes off in a hurry and started fucking — by that stage we were both very turned on, and I was concerned I would orgasm too soon so I said “Can I go down on you first?”. Once again she surprised me by saying “Oh yes, it’s the only way I climax, so I was going to ask you to at some point anyway”. So I went down on her and she smelled and tasted divine — lovely and pure, no oils or lotions, just pure Nola.
After a while her breath started coming faster, then her belly rose and fell somewhat spasmodically and she sighed quietly. “Phew, that was very nice, now it’s your turn — I won’t come again, but you can do what you like, go for it” and I moved up and slid into her. She lay fairly still, moving just enough to let me realise she was part of this, and I realised I could indeed do anything I wanted. The fact she didn’t orgasm from vaginal intercourse wasn’t a problem at all, in fact it was strangely exciting. I put my hand down onto her pubes and gently massaged her clitoris. She said “That feels really nice but I probably won’t come”. And she didn’t, but Nola did know when to move, when I was close she started strong pelvic movements, saying ‘Is that good?’ and it didn’t take long for me to orgasm.
The reason why Nola was in Adelaide instead of Canberra is interesting. It may have been a record for a short marriage. She had previously been engaged, she said she and her fiance had good sex together including obviously oral sex so she would orgasm. Then they got married and ended up in a motel in Canberra. He got erect, she fondled him a bit, then said “Now go down on me”. Apparently his response was something like “I’m not doing that any more, I never liked doing it really, and now we are married I don’t have to”. So she packed her bags with a few basics and took a plane out.
I moved in with Nola the day of the beach. I found it too much to resist how much I liked her, how compatible we were, and the contrast between the apparently conservative ‘blue stocking’ appearance that Nola presented and the reality of her quite wanton enjoyment of sex.
On one occasion Nola was menstruating and had a tampon in. After I had gone down on her and she had orgasmed she said “Your turn” and I said “Do you want to take your tampon out first?” “No, there’s plenty of room for you inside”. And there was.
On another occasion we were in the lounge late playing music and neither of us had any clothes on. Nola realised I was still turned on although we had earlier been fucking in the bedroom. She said “It will take much longer for me to come again, if at all, but I’d like you to go down on me for as long as you can. If you get tired you can come in me instead”. After a few minutes her flat mate came in to complain about the loudness of the music late at night. I thought the situation was embarrassing as neither of us had any clothes on and I started to pull away, intending to cover up but Nola pushed my head down again and told me not to stop. She told her flatmate “Can’t you see I’m busy — if you don’t like it you can get fucked”. Her flatmate walked out slamming the door and Nola shut her eyes and got fully into what we were doing again.
I don’t think I took her allergy to alcohol entirely seriously until just before Christmas we were all down the pub and someone ‘spiked’ her orange juice with vodka. Shortly afterwards she started taking her clothes off and threw herself at the EDP manager. He suggested I should ‘take her home’ — which I did, she passed out in the car on the way — and she had no recollection of the episode the next day.
For a few weeks we walked hand-in-hand through the corridors of the company. There were complaints about our behaviour but we were in love and we didn’t care. I don’t have faith any more in my own emotions at that time, I think I was immature (maybe I still am) but Nola was a pretty together sort of person, and the feelings between us were real.
In the long term, it didn’t work out for us, which was entirely my fault, and I think of her often. I deeply regret not having made her my life partner.
Finally, this is non-fiction — it is exactly as it happened, and any words in quotes are exactly as they were said, and I clearly remember them. My time with Nola was a turning point for me, which is why I recall it so vividly.