Chapter 06
As I drove home through the traffic that was beginning to build up to the rush hour, I began to try to make sense of the whole afternoon. There were so many contradictory clues.
Molly had decided at some point that she was out to seduce me. I'm sure she led the way. OK, I didn't put up much of a fight, and maybe I should have done, but I'm sure she instigated it.
And what about the way she was dressed? At first, I thought she just dressed sexier these days. Maybe that was part of their marriage, he liked her dressed sexy all the time. But that contradicts his comment that she was wearing undies that he had wanted her to wear and she'd refused. But that didn't make sense, Molly loved sexy undies. OK she was a suburban housewife, mother and part-time dietician when she was my wife, and she didn't wear glamorous clothes all the time. Mainly it was chain store sensible, especially the undies. But I was always in trouble if at birthdays and Christmas there wasn't a present that couldn't be opened in front of friends and ******. And she loved to wear them for me. So why wouldn't she be wearing them for him, if that's what he wanted?
And why today did he suddenly come home early? I know the Abbey usually works to five o'clock. And he, as a senior executive, would probably work on beyond that. I would guess that six o'clock was a more likely going home time, but he must have left at about four today.
The whole bloody thing doesn't make sense!
And what was it she wanted to talk about? Nothing! She'd not said a word of anything that warranted having to have lunch with an ex-husband.
I trawled through my mind. And a theory began to shape up. I can't claim I'm an innocent in the ways of the world, and I've certainly explored a few of the minor by-ways in my time. I know there is a bunch of guys out there who get off on being weak, wimp, cuckolded husbands, I've never come across any, but I know they're there. What if dear Peter is one of those, and Molly has taken the dominant wife role?
Then, I'm lined up as the fall-guy. Maybe for Peter and Molly I'm the ultimate fall-guy. She phones me up, invites me to lunch because she wants to talk about 'something', a something that never materialises. She warned me that she may take some time, I should take the afternoon off, and that we needed to relax. So far my theory holds good.
Then she gets me home, I have to admit, I volunteered for that bit, but she could easily have asked for a lift home. Otherwise, why didn't she use her own car to come into town?
She seduced me, and gets me into bed. And the sex wasn't that great. OK she seemed very wet and eager for it, but she would have been if she's been building up to this for several days. I remember that an afternoon in bed with Molly would last for hours, and we'd run the full gamut of positions and acts. Oral, both ways. Anal, sometimes. And vaginal, well that was guaranteed. But maybe this afternoon the act itself wasn't that important, just a necessary part of their game.
And then she keeps me there on the promise that we still haven't talked. And guess what? Peter comes home early!
It all fits!
By now I was home, and I chose to make myself a cup of tea before I go and shower. Even as I'm making it, and as I'm drinking it, I start to search for alternative solutions.
Well, the obvious one, I suppose, is that everything was innocent, and that in a wave of sentimental nostalgia Molly suddenly wanted to make love to me one more time. It fits some of the clues, but isn't as neat as my cuckolding wimp theory.
And I suppose there is a possibility that Peter and Molly's marriage isn't as happy as I've always assumed. But then, why not say so? No one has given me any indication that they're unhappy. In fact Peter visited my office precisely to tell me how much in love he was.
Neither of these possibilities explains him coming home early on this day of all days, nor that Molly doesn't wear sexy clothes for her man any more.
By the time I'd finish my cup of tea, I was beginning to feel that the cuckold wimp theory had to be the answer.
As I came out of my shower, another clue hit me. She said the boys were being collected from school by Susan, as if that was a special arrangement. But then they'd need some privacy after the cuckolding event for their follow-up, whatever that was, whatever their fetish was for nights like tonight. The whole scene had been planned, down to the fine detail.
And the Little Cock and Elsie story? Maybe the boys had picked up on some derogatory talk from their mother to their step-father. That would also fit the cuckold wimp theory.
But then I found a fly in the ointment! I remembered the look in Molly's eyes as I dressed and left. Surely she would have been looking at Peter with excitement? Not looking at me with pleading in her eyes.
But was it pleading? Maybe it was regret and sorrow at using me in their sick little game. God knows! I know all about regret and sorrow after the act. Just ask me how I felt when I left some brothel in my bad days. And I know Molly. I still believe that she's a decent person at heart, so shame and regret are pretty likely if she's been driven to play these sort of games.
Now that was the biggest fly in the ointment, that Molly was a decent person, and had shown no sign of any interest in these sort of games ever before. That just didn't fit with my theory.
As I sat eating my fish and chips in the local pub, I began to worry about the future of what I had thought of as a stable home where Jamie and Ben were growing up. Whatever their kinks, I was sure that Peter and certainly Molly were sensible parents, and they wouldn't ****** the boys to anything bad. But what if this was the start of the break up of that happy home? What if one of my other theories was the truth?
Well, I'm not sure how I would feel if I'd been party to the breaking up of a good marriage, and my boys' home. I guess the best thing I can do is to do nothing.
If Molly really did have problems, and had wanted to talk to me, then she still can. She knows where I work, and where I live, and she has my number. If they have problems now because of this incident, then it's better that I stay out of their way, and let them sort it out for themselves. And if I was just some pawn in their game, well I don't want to get further involved. It all adds up to a policy of do nothing.
By the time I went to bed, another thought had occurred to me: What was Peter going to be like at work on Monday? I threw that one around in my head for some time, but in the end, I decided he'd probably say nothing. If it was some weird sex game they were playing, then I doubt whether he wants it advertised. Equally, if it was a humiliating and horrid surprise for him, then I guess he'll keep quiet until he's decided what he's going to do about the marriage. That assumes, of course, that he will be at work on Monday, and not in some lawyer's office.
I did have a worry about him suing the Company. I guess that Managing Directors should keep their hands off employees' wives. But, in the unique circumstances, and under British law, I decided that he would have a weak case, if one at all.
On the Saturday, I felt very restless. So, I went and bought myself a bike. I thought that I could go cycling with Jamie and Ben as something to do on some weekends. I then went down to the motorists' supermarket on the retail park, and bought a cycle carrier. I am sure it was against all the rules, but the young lad who sold it to me was delighted to spend half an hour crawling all over a brand new XK, whilst he checked that the cycle rack could be easily mounted and dismounted on the tailgate.
Even with doing all of that, my mind was still running over Friday afternoon and I was still curious as to the truth of Peter and Molly and Friday. Eventually it got the better of me, and I phoned Susan and Ralph's and asked if I could have the boys and I'd take them to see a film, and buy them a meal.
No one said a word about Molly or Peter when I collected Jamie and Ben. Ralph and Susan both opened the door, and just called the boys. When we were in the restaurant, I did try asking Jamie and Ben about their home life, and a bit about how Mummy treated Peter, but I got nowhere. I felt that I couldn't ask too many probing or leading questions without scarring young minds. And when I returned the boys, Ralph opened the door, gave me a big smile, asked us all if we'd enjoyed the film, and no word was spoken about anything being odd. I could only assume that neither Molly nor Peter had spoken to Ralph and Susan. I told him that I might take the boys out on their bikes on Sunday, but that I'd phone once we'd seen the weather in the morning.
I spent that Saturday evening on the internet, looking for a good cycle route on which to take the boys. I think I found one.
The weather on Sunday was fine, and I phoned Ralph to say I'd pick up the boys as usual at eleven o'clock, for our cycle ride. When I got there, Ralph was happy and cheerful, and helped me load the boys' bikes onto the carrier. It was obvious that he knew of nothing wrong.
The three of us had a good time. I was beginning to feel that my relationship to the boys was getting stronger. I really think they enjoyed themselves, and they happily joked with me that I'd not bought enough food for the picnic.
When we got back, Molly's car was on the drive, and my heart missed a beat. I was very nervous as to what was about to happen. Ralph was out in the garden, and he was exactly as he had been in the morning.
Ralph quietly said, "Molly's here. Do you want a word with her?"
"Has she said she wants to see me?"
"No, she's having a cup of tea in the kitchen with her Mother."
Ralph opened the front door, and I could see Molly sitting at the kitchen table, through the doorway at the far end of the hall. She turned and looked at me, but didn't seem to react. The boys pushed past me, running in with Ben shouting "Mummy! Mummy! Guess what we've been doing? We've been out cycling with Daddy!"
Molly turned on her chair to greet them. Then she stood and just stared at me down the length of the hallway as I stood at the open front door. I waited for her to say something, I just stood there, watching her. Eventually, she turned to talk to Jamie, and I got in my car and drove away. I'm sure it was all very meaningful and important, but I just didn't know what it meant.
The next morning, in the office, I was just refreshing myself on the issues for my first meeting when there was a knock on my open office door, it was Myra.
"Have you got a couple of minutes?" She asked, and I noted that she looked pleased with herself.
"Sure." I answered, putting down my papers and leaning back in my chair.
"It's just that I thought you'd like to know that I think we're onto something with the value of Marston Abbey."
I noted the 'we're' in that statement, but smiled and said "Good. You have news?"
"Well, you remember I was having lunch with the local planning guy? We met out at the George in Marston village, conveniently next door to the site. Well, he was far from adverse to the idea. In fact, I think he'd be quite pleased if as part of our scheme we could sell them a tiny bit of the land for improving that lousy junction just this side of the village. And if we could sell or give some land for low cost housing, then I reckon he would be a very happy man. And the architect loved the idea that we might build some purpose built research laboratories, still near the village. By the time lunch was over, we were all quite excited."
Suddenly something made sense, "And don't tell me, you all went over to the Abbey that very afternoon."
She looked surprised, "Yes, but how did you know?"
I ignored her question, "Did anyone else join you?"
"Yes, later the architect called up a developer he thought might be interested, and an agent who has been looking for somewhere to put a new hotel for one of the major chains, he wouldn't tell me which one. And the Council guy called up a local Councillor, just to make sure that that anything discussed was open and above board. But to start with it was just the three of us looking round."
"And all of you went and viewed the Abbey, tramping all over it, discussing your plans? And pissing off the staff, who were probably a tad upset that the place was being sold without any warning to them?"
For the first time, Myra suddenly looked worried. "I thought you told me that you would clear it with Dr McBaine."
"I did. I told him that we were revaluing the property for accounting purposes. And that if it was ever sold, it would be after thought and planning. I didn't tell him that a bunch of property developers would be crawling all over the place in the next few days, carving up a deal to suit themselves."
"Oh!"
"Oh, indeed. What was the staff reaction?"
"Well, Dr McBaine wasn't there. I got Peter Davies to show us over the building. The staff didn't seem too worried, although I did hear Peter Davies having his leg pulled a bit."
"How were they pulling his leg precisely?"
Myra began to study her shoes, and looked embarrassed, and spoke in a quiet voice, "A couple of them said that him screwing your wife was probably the cause. You were going to sell the whole lot, just to get rid of him." She paused before she urgently added, "But he laughed. He seemed to take it well. But when the others turned up, he seemed to just disappear. I think some of the comments got a bit more pointed then. Sorry."
I sighed, "OK, Myra. It was a genuine mistake. But a little more diplomacy next time, please."
So, Peter Davies coming home wasn't planned. He was pissed off, probably suspecting that I was going to shake up his world. He should have stayed at work, little did he know what awaited him at home; his world would have been less shaken if he'd stay at work!
Well, it didn't explain everything. But my cuckold wimp theory was definitely weakened. I think my policy of doing nothing was still the best idea, especially if Peter and Molly were trying to put their marriage back together.
Myra would have got no further than the corridor outside Carole's room, when my phone rang, and Carole told me she had Piers McBaine on the line.
"Piers, what can I do for you on this Monday morning?" I decided that innocence was my best bet.
"Chris, I thought I ought to phone you and tell you about Friday afternoon."
"Go on."
"Well, I wasn't here, but I understand that Myra Hepsted turned up with a bunch of people, and Peter had to show them over the building. Apparently they were talking about it being turned into a hotel. And it didn't go down very well with some people here."
"I'm sorry. I can promise you that there are no such plans. Myra had lunch with some planners and developers. It got out of hand, and they got carried away. I've spoken to her, and told her off for her lack of diplomacy. Is there anything I can do to put peoples' minds at rest? Nothing is going to happen in the short term."
I heard Piers sigh, "To be honest it was probably a bit my fault. When I told them the place would get revalued, maybe I played it down a bit too much. I don't know about people coming in unannounced and talking about which wing would make the leisure centre, but I guess a team turning up to really look and measure up was a possibility, and I didn't warn anyone of that. But I'd like some warning next time."
"Point taken. Is there anything I can do to smooth it over?" I asked.
"No, it'll be alright. But I will quote you in a memo I'll put out."
"Then draft it up and show it to me first."
"OK. By the way, Peter has suddenly taken off. Maybe Friday afternoon got to him. But he phoned in this morning, and was apparently rather short with the receptionist. He is taking a couple of weeks off, and we can put it down to any damn thing we like, holiday, sick leave, he didn't give a damn."
"As you say, Friday afternoon may have got to him, but not just Myra. I had lunch with Molly on Friday, and she invited me back to their place afterwards, to see where Jamie and Ben actually live. I was there when Peter came home early, and I don't think he was very pleased to find me there." I thought that was all he needed to know.
"I doubt whether he would have been. Whether that's got anything to do with him suddenly taking leave I don't know. Maybe it's just some other ****** emergency."
"Well, ..... email me your draft memo."
So, Peter has taken some time off work. Maybe to go away and think about his marriage? Or, to take Molly away on a romantic holiday where they can talk and put things back together? I don't know. What I do know is that Molly's behaviour on Friday is an even bigger mystery.
The rest of Monday and Tuesday passed without anything new happening, but on Wednesday morning I thought it was time to show Myra that I wasn't too upset with her, so I called her up to my office for a progress meeting on Franks Engineering. We were talking across my desk when Carole brought in a tray of coffee, which she was about to lay on my desk, when I asked that she put it on the coffee table, "We might as well sit comfortably" I explained, looking at Myra.
Myra started gathering her papers that she had spread in front of her when Carole asked, "Have you decided whether you're going to the RNIB dance on Saturday of next week? They've been on the phone, they want to sort out the seating plan. You'll be on top table of course, if you're going."
I looked up, and watched Carole going through animated mime of nodding her head towards Myra, who had her back turned. I couldn't help but laugh.
Myra suddenly looked up and round at Carole, with that sixth sense that warns all of us once in a while, "What?"
"It's Carole. She's playing matchmaker." I said, still laughing.
Myra looked round at me, and I explained, "I need a date for this Easter Ball, and Carole thinks it ought to be you."
"What Easter Ball?"
"Royal National Institute for the Blind's Easter Ball. Apparently we sponsor it, and I'm meant to go." I paused to look winningly hopeful, "Would you go with me, please?"
"I don't know...." Myra sounded very doubtful.
I interrupted quickly, "It is a sort of business do for us. Surely you could come on a date for business?"
She still looked dubious, "Well ...........OK. Thank you." And she smiled.
I smiled back. "Thank you. I promise to be the perfect gentleman."
"Spoilsport!" She flirted back, then she had an afterthought, "If its for business, does that mean that I can buy a new dress on expenses?"
I laughed, "Don't push your luck."
Carole left with a "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" I'm not sure whether it was aimed at Myra or me.
I spent Thursday and Friday in London, sometimes supporting the sales team in presentations for possible clients, and some of the time at HQ. I tried to get to see The Old Man, and late on Friday afternoon, Pamela phoned me to say that he invited me to dinner, with Frances, at their home. That was a rare honour. I rebooked my hotel for an extra night, and phoned Ralph that I wouldn't get to see the boys until Sunday.
The dinner with The Old Man and Frances went well. He, of course, wanted a report on how Franks was going, and I chatted honestly about my hopes of how we might improve profitability, but also pleading for extra funds for research. We needed more products, which meant more research as well as doing marketing deals with other foreign companies. Frances was more interested in my love life, she knew of Helene and wanted an update. But there was nothing really important or meaningful in that conversation.
On Sunday I collected the boys and it was Susan who opened the front door. She treated me with stony silence, there was no smile and certainly no polite words. I guess they know something is wrong with Molly's marriage, and that I'm involved. As far as Susan is concerned, I guess it's all my fault.
When I got back with the boys, it was Ralph who met me. He looked at me in silence for quite a while, then he said, "Cup of tea in the shed, I think." And he just led the way to the bottom of the garden, I followed, feeling rather like a naughty schoolboy following the headmaster back to his study, knowing that's where the caning would happen.
Ralph just set to work making a cup of tea, I watched him and waited. Eventually, he looked at me and said, "So what happened?"
"What has she told you?" I countered. I had no intention of saying more than Molly had told him.
He smiled, acknowledging my move, "Not a lot. Come to that, I'm not sure I want to know a lot." He sighed, "You had lunch with Molly. You took her back to their house and Peter came home early and found you and Molly in what she described as an embarrassing scene."
"Well, that pretty much covers it. He's had the week off work, I do know that."
"Did you plan it, or know that he'd come home early?" Ralph looked at me hard, "Peter thinks you planned it all as some form of revenge. And Molly thinks you might have done."
I smiled, "Well I guess he'd blame me. But No, I didn't plan a thing. I promise you, Ralph, I went to lunch with my ex-wife, at her invitation I might add, with only two things on my agenda. First, I wanted to talk about the boys education. And second, I had some vague hope that it might be the start of building some sort of friendly relationship with Molly, for the boys' sake. And no, I didn't plan anything, and No I didn't know that Peter would come home early."
Ralph looked at me, still suspicious, "Molly says you acted as if you had it all planned out when Peter turned up. That you quoted some Bible reference at him. Neither of them can remember what it was."
"Matthew, 7:12"
"Oh, I had hoped it was Luke 6:31"
"I think the Matthew version is: Whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. But I think the two are much the same, Sermon on the Mount and all that."
Now he smiled, "Four years too late, but now you are fighting back."
"Good Heavens! No. I am not fighting back. He won, hands down. Cupid's little arrow was shot, and I lost a long time ago. But I couldn't resist reminding him that that's how it felt."
We stood staring at each other for a long moment, then the whistle sang on his kettle, and he made some tea.
I broke the silence, "You know your Bible quotes."
He smiled, "A childhood of Sunday School every week for years never leaves you. How about you?"
"A boss who can quote it at the drop of a hat. If you want to get ahead, you learn fast."
Again there was a pause, but it wasn't such an icy one. Then Ralph said, "You should tell Molly that you didn't plan it, why not go and see her?"
"No way, I'm not interfering more than I already have. Anyway, what's happened to them?"
"Peter's gone off to their little cottage in Wales, I think he inherited it from his Mother. They keep saying that Susan and myself should borrow it for a week, but we never do. Anyway, he's gone up there to think about things. She's at their house here."
I smiled, "Well I'll give him a better chance at putting things right than he ever gave me. When Molly first told me about Peter, I went and rented a little room for the week, just so that I could clear my head. When I came back the next week to talk about things, he'd spotted a marriage at its weakest, and had wined and dined her, or at least lunched her. By the time I got back my case was lost." I looked up at him, "I would have tried to put it right, but she was totally enamoured by then......"
"You should have tried anyway."
"There's no point in fighting a losing battle. I just gave her what she wanted, a divorce. And got on with my life." I smiled, "And it hasn't been so bad really. You get over these things."
"Talk to her."
"No way, they need space, time and privacy to put right whatever is wrong. Its bad enough that I've been part of a problem for them, they don't need me around."
He sighed, and we drank our tea in silence, except for one question from me, "I guess Susan blames me for all this?"
"Of course."
It was late morning on Tuesday that I came up from doing my bit at a sales presentation downstairs, as I approached Carole's office, I could see the most fabulous pair of legs with the highest pair of heels any woman could actually wear, sitting on the sofa opposite Carole's desk. There was only one person who had that good a pair of legs, and who would wear that high a heel, "Helene! What a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?"
I ushered her into my office, asking Carole for coffee and telling her to cancel my next meeting. As I shut the door, Helene flung her arms around my neck and kissed me full and hard on the lips. "I've missed you, Chris. I've missed you so much."
To be honest the next hour wasn't much fun. I guess Carole got a snapshot image of it when she came in with coffee, and it was the only time that I've known Carole to knock before she entered. Helene and myself were both sitting on the longer of the two sofas, both sitting sideways so that we see each others' eyes and faces. Put simply, she loved me and couldn't live without me, and wanted to come and live and work in Bristol. It was hard for me to try and express how important she was to me, how grateful I was to her, but there was no future for us. I just didn't love her enough. There were tears, and hugs, and more tears, and the offer of the greatest sex life ever, whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. But it all came to the same thing, there was no future.
Eventually, I think she began to admit defeat. She dried her eyes and blew her nose one more time, and weakly smiled, "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."
"I am so flattered." I smiled, and kissed her cheek gently.
"I think I need to repair my face. Where is there a bathroom?"
"Through that door." I pointed the way to my private bathroom. "Where are you going to go now?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "To the airport, I guess."
"Well, you go and smarten yourself up, and I'll see if I can get out of whatever I'm meant to be doing for lunch. If I can, then I'll drive you. If not, well I'll get you a taxi."
She smiled again, and headed for the bathroom. I watched her go. Sighed heavily. And then I went to see Carole.
As I opened my office door, I came face to face with Molly.
"Molly! You came to see me?"
"Yes. Sorry to disturb you, but suddenly I got the courage to come and see you." She smiled.
I saw Carole watching this from her desk.
"Well, I've got Helene here at the moment, and I was hoping to take her to lunch....."
I shouldn't have said it, I should have thought quicker, but I didn't. Molly looked shocked and then hurt. Without a word she just turned and left.
I turned to Carole, "What was that about? Did she say anything to you?"
"No. She just said she needed to speak to you. But she seemed very nervous, on edge, if you know what I mean."
I shook my head slowly, "Well, I can imagine that she might want to talk to me. I think she and Peter have problems at the moment."
There was a long silence, probably Carole waiting for me to explain a little more, which I wasn't going to do. Eventually, Carole broke it with "Well, you can't get away at lunchtime, not unless you want to upset Sir George Havers and his entourage from Oxfordshire Health waiting for you downstairs in Sales."
"Bugger! Well can you get a taxi for Helene. She needs to get back to the airport."
"Well I'll take her if you like."
"No you won't. You'd never be able to resist asking questions."
Carole straightened herself in her chair, "In the words of the delectable Myra - spoilsport!"
"It's not funny!"
Her smile fell away, "No, I don't expect it is." She said quietly, and she started to look up the number for a taxi.
I returned to my office and told Helene that I couldn't get out of my lunch, and I escorted her down to Reception. Her taxi turned up quite quickly, and I gave her a big hug and a kiss as we said goodbye at the bottom of the Reception steps.
After lunch I went back to my office, Carole looked up as I came in and there was a kind concern in her eyes, "You are all right, aren't you Chris? I had a worry about you at lunch."
I smiled, "Yes, I'm fine. It wasn't fun with Helene, but I'd told her before that the answer was No. She just had to try one more time. And I don't know what Molly was all about." I paused for a moment, "I just wish that I could understand some of what's going on in my life."
Just then, Myra came through the door with a file. She looked at me and smiled, handing the file to Carole, "Just some figures on the transferring the Accounts' systems that he should see sometime."
I watched her walk away, she was wearing a fairly long but very tight skirt, and the view from the rear was entrancing. As I turned back I saw Carole smiling.
"What?" I asked, a bit indignant at getting caught.
Carole smiled, and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes, "Let me get this straight: Molly is the great love of your life, but she's history. But her new husband, Peter works for you and is upset that you've turned up. And they've got trouble which I assume is not totally unconnected with you being here. And Helene loves you and wants to marry you. But you fancy Myra."
I smiled, "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Rick will be pleased."
"I know I shouldn't ask, but why?"
"Well he's always going on at me for watching my soaps on the telly. He says the plots are all too far fetched." She paused and smiled at me, "I won't have to watch them now."
I laughed, "Get on with your work."
Molly didn't come back, and I decided not to phone her.
On Friday I saw Myra quite briefly. She asked if she could change for this Easter Ball at my place, to save her having to drive over from Bath in a full length dress. Of course I agreed.
On Saturday, I collected the boys for lunch from Ralph and Susan's. Susan answered the door, and even smiled at me. As the boys were climbing into the car, Ralph came over and said, "It looks like Peter and Molly are going to be alright. He's come back and he's taking her out tonight. So you missed your chance."
"I wasn't looking for a chance, Ralph. Molly tried to come and see me in the week, but we never talked."
"Well, maybe that's just as well." He said, patted my shoulder and went back to his gardening.
I did ask the boys how their week had been at home without Peter, but Jamie said, "Mummy said we weren't to talk about it with you."
I backed off immediately. She was right, the boys shouldn't be a conduit for gossip.
I didn't really see Ralph or Susan when I took the boys back. Susan opened the door, the boys ran in and that was that.
I went home, made myself a cup of tea, and then showered and changed ready for the RNIB Easter Ball.
Myra turned up on time, looking casual but sexy. She'd obviously had her hair done, and then she wiggled her fingers in front of my face, "You've had your nails done. It is only a local fund raiser, you know."
"And a first date." She corrected me.
I offered her a cup of tea, and then left her in my bedroom and bathroom.
A little under an hour later a vision in black and rich yellows and orange made an entrance from my bedroom. I looked, smiled and said "Wow!"
Her dress was totally strapless, the top looked as if it was some form of tight, soft corset, but from the hip down it was a very full skirt. She had an ornate and heavy necklace, dripping in yellow gems. And she had heavy drop earrings to match.
"What a wonderful necklace. It's Victorian isn't it, it looks old? They're citrines aren't they?"
"You know your gemstones. I'll look forward to my birthday." She smiled, "Yes. It was my great grandmother's and it's come down to me. You are honoured, I very rarely wear them."
I stepped up to her, very close and put my arms around her, "I feel honoured. I'll have the most beautiful girl in the room on my arm, and she's a bejewelled jewel." And I leant in and kissed her.
She was very hesitant at first, but then she returned it with passion. Eventually we broke apart slightly, and she brought us down to earth, "Come on, we'll be late, and you are an honoured guest., you should be punctual."
I have to admit, I had some doubts about an Easter Ball for the blind. I wondered what sort of special arrangements there was going to be. I shouldn't have worried, it was a great evening. Of course, I was an honoured guest, as Myra had said, and we were treated like royalty.
As we mingled with the crowd, I noticed that Franks staff seemed to be supporting the event well. I guess some of them, like me, were there as a matter of duty as much as pleasure, but there were plenty who must just be doing their charitable bit.
We were obviously to be seated at the top table, and Dennis Murrell, my problem production director, and his wife were also on our table. They seemed to be a well matched couple, she was as sour faced as he was old-fashioned. I was glad I was out of conversation range from them.
It was after we had sat down to eat, and the room had fallen to a loud murmur of conversations, and everything seemed orderly for a while that I looked around the room and saw them. If myself and Myra were at Table 1, then Peter and Molly were sitting at about Table 20. They had their back to me, but I could still recognise Molly from the back. She was wearing a bright pink dress, but I thought there was a weariness about her shoulders.
I tried making small talk with my neighbour as I thought about what I was going to do about Molly and Peter being here. It seemed odd thing to come here as an act of reconciliation, but I guessed that they probably booked this night some weeks ago, and getting dressed up for a formal big night might work. I wondered if I should go and say hello, even whether I should ask Molly for a dance. But, being a coward, and full of indecision, I decided to do nothing, let them find me - if they wanted to.
At the end of the meal, and before the dancing started, they decided to draw the raffle. I was invited to read out the winners, and Myra was invited to make the draw. What no one had warned me about was that I was also invited to make a speech. I sort of stumbled through it, with all the right words about how we were delighted to support the evening, and the company's fight to improve eyesight medical equipment. And a told a couple of decent jokes, that seemed to go down well.
When I came down off the stage a thought ran through my head that Peter and Molly couldn't be innocent of my presence now. But they never approached me.
I danced with Myra, and with a couple of the senior wives. I did see Peter and Molly dancing once, early on, but after that they seemed to disappear. Towards midnight I thought Myra was beginning to look a little weary. She had done so well being charming to everyone, and dancing with a lot of old men, I was very impressed and proud of her. I invited her onto the dance floor one more time, and suggested that maybe it was time for us to go home. She seemed relieved, and excused herself to go to the Ladies. When she returned we said our farewells and left.
In the car I praised her, for being so charming to all and sundry. "I'm very proud that I had such a charming companion tonight. Thank you."
She smiled cheekily, "You haven't had me yet." I smiled, she has a wonderfully naughty sense of humour.
She interrupted my thoughts, "Anyway, I'm rather proud that I was invited. You were quite a hit you know. When I went to the Ladies, several women were talking about how charming and sexy you were."
"But I bet it all went quiet when they recognised you."
"Yes, except for one. She asked if we were a permanent item?"
"And what did you say?"
"I told her I was working on it. That was a bit naughty of me, but it didn't seem right to say this was our first date."
"What colour dress was she wearing?"
"Fuchsia. Why?"
"That's bright pink isn't it?"
She was hesitant as she answered, "Yes?"
I didn't explain. Let tomorrow look after itself. My main worry was that Jamie and Ben will want to know all about a new woman in my life.
As we drove back to my place I wondered how the evening should end, and how it would end, and how I wanted it to end. Well, I knew the answer to the last bit, in bed screwing like rabbits!
Once we were indoors I went to pour myself a brandy, as a nightcap. "Would you like a coffee, or even a brandy if it won't put you over the limit."
I turned to hear her reply. She stepped close to me, and I leant over and took her in my arms and kissed her.
"A brandy would be nice, and I guess I'll be OK to drive - in the morning." She whispered and kissed me again.
I felt myself slightly stiffen, in the backbone - not the crotch, that was already stiffening.
She must have caught a look in my eyes, "Doubts?"
"Well, I am your boss."
"And I'm not some silly secretary, pissed at the office party. I know what I'm doing, and I think you'll still respect me in the morning."
"Yes, I will, but I'll still be your boss in the morning as well."
She kissed me again, "I like you and trust you, and because you have doubts is precisely why I know it'll be OK. Please, I need to."
"Because of Jonathon?"
"Partly. But also because I want you."
I poured her a brandy and handed it to her. As she held it, I put my arms around her and found what I hoped would be the zip of her dress. It wasn't.
"Little clasps, all the way down the back." She whispered.
Slowly, one at a time, I undid her dress. At the bottom of the corset top I found a little zip that ran a few inches down the full skirt. When all was undone, the dress remained in place around her, probably because we were standing so close together. Myra stood back and gave a little shake, and the whole dress fell away in a pool around her feet. She stood there in a little black g-string or thong, black lace top thigh high stockings and shiny black high heeled strappy sandals. She was the perfection of a wet dream.
Stupidly, my initial remark was "What a wonderful tan."
She smiled, "I've only just come back from holiday a few weeks ago." She half turned to be sideways to me, "And anyway, I've got obvious tan lines where my bikini was a lot bigger than this silly string."
I smiled, "I'll cope."
I took hold of her hand, her fingers really, in a very polite way, drew her to me, kissed her, and then led the way to the bedroom. Both of us were still carrying our brandies, and by some unspoken agreement, we went to opposite sides of the bed and put our glasses down on the bedside tables.
She kicked off her shoes, and put each leg in turn on the bed and peeled off her stockings. Then I saw her thumbs go into the waist band of her g-string.
"No, I'll do that, if I may."
She smiled and laid down on the bed, just gently smiling up at me.
I started to undress, and she watched me. The silence, the expectation was becoming deafening, so I looked at her and said, "God! You're sexy."
That seemed to prompt her, she stroked her hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts, letting the fingers pass over her nipples, and seemingly bring them to even greater erection.
Once I was naked I joined her on the bed. I leaned over her and kissed her full on the lips, her mouth opened to allow my probing tongue in. Then I moved down her to kiss her nipples. She remained cupping her breasts, as if offering them to me, and that was a turn on. I looked down on her, she was still wearing a little black g-string and a heavy necklace and earrings. I took hold of the strings of her g-string on each hip and started to slide them down, "And now the piece de resistance."
She smiled, "No resistance." And she lifted her hips off the bed.
And then I saw that she was completely shaved. And her pussy lips were flushed pink.
"Wow!" I said. "You are a sight for a sex starved old man." And I positioned myself between her legs and licked her pussy from bottom to top.
From that moment on our scene turned to one of passionate oral sex. Even with all the experience of my bad years, eating a totally shaven woman was new. I'd had a couple of girls who were totally shaved, but I hadn't gone down on them. I loved it, it was something new.
She orgasmed quickly and easily. And then we got onto the main event. At first we were both quite gentle and slow, but then I started to raise the pace, and I was thrusting in and out for all I was worth. Tonight I was a stayer! Maybe, deep inside me there were emotions floating around that I didn't understand, or even know of, but for some reason I was taking my time to cum. But cum I did, eventually.
"Wow!" was Myra's only comment as we came down from our orgasmic highs.
I smiled, and kissed her gently.
We lay there and sipped our brandies. And then Myra said "I think I ought to clean my teeth and take my make-up off." And we both prepared for going to bed, like any domestic couple, in and out of the bathroom and tidying clothes.
Finally, I had by best silk boxers on ready to sleep, and was lying on the bed when she came out of the bathroom wearing a short nightdress, it clung to her breasts and was tight over her stomach but then ended in a frilled skirt at her hips, it was only just covering her pussy.
I looked at her and smiled. "Pity." I commented.
"What is?"
"That I can't see that lovely shaven pussy."
She smiled and came to me on the bed. She gave me a big kiss, loving not passionate. "I can't tell you, Chris, how important all of this is to me."
"Jonathon?"
"Yes, Jonathon."
"First time since....?"
"Yes."
I kissed her, "Was he the shaven pussy addict?"
She sort of snorted, "Hardly! In fact his fetish was the opposite."
"He didn't like you to shave it at all? Or even trim it? What about bikini's and sunbathing?"
"I'm not naturally too hairy, so I usually could find something to wear. But we hardly ever went on sunshine holidays. Jonathon was a skiing nut."
"Oh."
"But it was the underarm bit that was far worse."
"He wouldn't let you shave under your arms? God! How did you manage?"
She smiled, "With difficulty. But I have the best wardrobe of trouser suits you could find anywhere."
"Or your legs? Good God, Myra. Why did you put up with it?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "In the short term, well it was better than a spanking. He used to be into over the knee spankings as well. In the long term, well I guess I used to love him."
"You're well off out of it." Then a thought struck me, "The spankings were just sex play fun weren't they? He didn't get too rough did he?"
"No. They stung, but that's all they were. At first, years ago, it was just fun, but then they came too often, and on the least excuse."
"Never my scene. Fun - Yes, but causing pain? Sorry, it's just not my scene."
"Nor mine - well not any longer, and never again."
"Good! Was the off the shoulder dress part of the rebellion of you reclaiming you, as well?"
"Yes. I wasn't dressing for you. I was dressing for me. I haven't been able to lift a bare arm in public for six years." She smiled and shrugged.
I took her into my arms and just cuddled her, there was nothing I could say. I pulled the quilt over us and we fell asleep.
In the morning I awoke to see Myra lying with her back to me. I snuggled up, with a very stiff cock nudging into her bottom.
"Mmmm...Jnth ...." She rolled over and looked at me and smiled, "Chris....."
No prizes for guessing who she was dreaming of! I smiled and kissed her gently on the lips. Our kiss turned to passion, and I swung over her, between her legs. I slid in, she was so wet. After a couple of minutes of missionary position I knelt up, "Come on, turn over, let's do something different."
She looked dubious, but turned over, into doggy position as I wanted. I slid my cock down the crease in her arse to slide it into her pussy. As my cock head passed her anus her head came up, "Not there, I promised...." There was real urgency and fear in her voice.
She looked round at me, I held my cock and looked at her. She smiled, "I promised my Mother: No anal on a first date."
Good recovery, I thought. I slid into her pussy. And within a minute that moment was forgotten, and she was pushing back at me with my rhythm.
Afterwards, I shaved and showered, leaving her in bed. Then I went off to make a cup of coffee for us both whilst Myra had the bedroom and bathroom to herself. It wasn't long before she came into the kitchen.
"You're looking good." I said as she entered.
She smiled, "And that smells good."
I passed her a mug of coffee. "When we've ***** this, I'll take you out to breakfast. There's a café down the road that I've found has an excellent breakfast menu. Everything from a European half a loaf through to an English half a farmyard."
She sipped her coffee, "Scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee sounds like heaven."
"I'm sure they can do that. It's nice to hear a girl wanting a cooked breakfast, most of your gender seem to want muesli and a yoghurt."
"Not on a Sunday. Can we get a Sunday paper on the way, to sit and read whilst we eat?"
I smiled, "And you'll read a paper at the table! We were meant for each other."
We had a nice leisurely breakfast. I was dying to ask questions about Jonathon, but my interest was just nosiness about another guy's fetishes really, and I wasn't going to push her on the subject. It was more important for Myra to try to leave him behind, and anyway, she didn't seem to want to talk. So, we strolled back to my place, and I explained that Sunday was a day for me and my sons, and excused myself to go and collect them for lunch, whilst she headed home.
Ralph opened the front door for me, and the boys came straight out. As I turned to follow them, Ralph caught my arm, I looked at him and thought he looked both worried and tired.
"I think you ought to know that Molly and Peter still seem to have problems. She turned up here at about two o'clock this morning and slept here. She was obviously very upset, but at that hour in the morning it seemed best to just get her and us back to bed. And then this morning she didn't want to talk, but she's gone back to see him. The boys don't know, I guess you shouldn't raise doubts and worries in their minds just yet, so please go carefully."
I was surprised, and I guess it showed, "I saw them last night and ....."
"You saw them?"
"Yes. It was at the RNIB Easter Ball. The company gives them a lot of help so I had to go, it was a sort of official engagement. But they were there. It struck me as a bit odd, it's not the sort of thing I would choose for a serious talk and reconciliation. A nice French restaurant, candlelight and a quiet chat would be more my line, but each to his own."
"I think they've been to it before. So maybe it was booked up weeks ago. How were they?"
"Well, they didn't speak to me, and they must have seen me. I decided not to approach them, it seemed to me that it would be better to leave them in peace, especially considering what I guess they were trying to do. But from what I saw they seemed happy enough."
"Well something must have happened. Then or after they got home." He shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, this time, it certainly wasn't me." I said firmly.
Ralph smiled, "It's always you. Probably more than you realise."
I laughed, "Well, I can't do anything about being me. Sorry." And I went and joined the boys, to talk about what sort of lunch they fancied.
As I drove home through the traffic that was beginning to build up to the rush hour, I began to try to make sense of the whole afternoon. There were so many contradictory clues.
Molly had decided at some point that she was out to seduce me. I'm sure she led the way. OK, I didn't put up much of a fight, and maybe I should have done, but I'm sure she instigated it.
And what about the way she was dressed? At first, I thought she just dressed sexier these days. Maybe that was part of their marriage, he liked her dressed sexy all the time. But that contradicts his comment that she was wearing undies that he had wanted her to wear and she'd refused. But that didn't make sense, Molly loved sexy undies. OK she was a suburban housewife, mother and part-time dietician when she was my wife, and she didn't wear glamorous clothes all the time. Mainly it was chain store sensible, especially the undies. But I was always in trouble if at birthdays and Christmas there wasn't a present that couldn't be opened in front of friends and ******. And she loved to wear them for me. So why wouldn't she be wearing them for him, if that's what he wanted?
And why today did he suddenly come home early? I know the Abbey usually works to five o'clock. And he, as a senior executive, would probably work on beyond that. I would guess that six o'clock was a more likely going home time, but he must have left at about four today.
The whole bloody thing doesn't make sense!
And what was it she wanted to talk about? Nothing! She'd not said a word of anything that warranted having to have lunch with an ex-husband.
I trawled through my mind. And a theory began to shape up. I can't claim I'm an innocent in the ways of the world, and I've certainly explored a few of the minor by-ways in my time. I know there is a bunch of guys out there who get off on being weak, wimp, cuckolded husbands, I've never come across any, but I know they're there. What if dear Peter is one of those, and Molly has taken the dominant wife role?
Then, I'm lined up as the fall-guy. Maybe for Peter and Molly I'm the ultimate fall-guy. She phones me up, invites me to lunch because she wants to talk about 'something', a something that never materialises. She warned me that she may take some time, I should take the afternoon off, and that we needed to relax. So far my theory holds good.
Then she gets me home, I have to admit, I volunteered for that bit, but she could easily have asked for a lift home. Otherwise, why didn't she use her own car to come into town?
She seduced me, and gets me into bed. And the sex wasn't that great. OK she seemed very wet and eager for it, but she would have been if she's been building up to this for several days. I remember that an afternoon in bed with Molly would last for hours, and we'd run the full gamut of positions and acts. Oral, both ways. Anal, sometimes. And vaginal, well that was guaranteed. But maybe this afternoon the act itself wasn't that important, just a necessary part of their game.
And then she keeps me there on the promise that we still haven't talked. And guess what? Peter comes home early!
It all fits!
By now I was home, and I chose to make myself a cup of tea before I go and shower. Even as I'm making it, and as I'm drinking it, I start to search for alternative solutions.
Well, the obvious one, I suppose, is that everything was innocent, and that in a wave of sentimental nostalgia Molly suddenly wanted to make love to me one more time. It fits some of the clues, but isn't as neat as my cuckolding wimp theory.
And I suppose there is a possibility that Peter and Molly's marriage isn't as happy as I've always assumed. But then, why not say so? No one has given me any indication that they're unhappy. In fact Peter visited my office precisely to tell me how much in love he was.
Neither of these possibilities explains him coming home early on this day of all days, nor that Molly doesn't wear sexy clothes for her man any more.
By the time I'd finish my cup of tea, I was beginning to feel that the cuckold wimp theory had to be the answer.
As I came out of my shower, another clue hit me. She said the boys were being collected from school by Susan, as if that was a special arrangement. But then they'd need some privacy after the cuckolding event for their follow-up, whatever that was, whatever their fetish was for nights like tonight. The whole scene had been planned, down to the fine detail.
And the Little Cock and Elsie story? Maybe the boys had picked up on some derogatory talk from their mother to their step-father. That would also fit the cuckold wimp theory.
But then I found a fly in the ointment! I remembered the look in Molly's eyes as I dressed and left. Surely she would have been looking at Peter with excitement? Not looking at me with pleading in her eyes.
But was it pleading? Maybe it was regret and sorrow at using me in their sick little game. God knows! I know all about regret and sorrow after the act. Just ask me how I felt when I left some brothel in my bad days. And I know Molly. I still believe that she's a decent person at heart, so shame and regret are pretty likely if she's been driven to play these sort of games.
Now that was the biggest fly in the ointment, that Molly was a decent person, and had shown no sign of any interest in these sort of games ever before. That just didn't fit with my theory.
As I sat eating my fish and chips in the local pub, I began to worry about the future of what I had thought of as a stable home where Jamie and Ben were growing up. Whatever their kinks, I was sure that Peter and certainly Molly were sensible parents, and they wouldn't ****** the boys to anything bad. But what if this was the start of the break up of that happy home? What if one of my other theories was the truth?
Well, I'm not sure how I would feel if I'd been party to the breaking up of a good marriage, and my boys' home. I guess the best thing I can do is to do nothing.
If Molly really did have problems, and had wanted to talk to me, then she still can. She knows where I work, and where I live, and she has my number. If they have problems now because of this incident, then it's better that I stay out of their way, and let them sort it out for themselves. And if I was just some pawn in their game, well I don't want to get further involved. It all adds up to a policy of do nothing.
By the time I went to bed, another thought had occurred to me: What was Peter going to be like at work on Monday? I threw that one around in my head for some time, but in the end, I decided he'd probably say nothing. If it was some weird sex game they were playing, then I doubt whether he wants it advertised. Equally, if it was a humiliating and horrid surprise for him, then I guess he'll keep quiet until he's decided what he's going to do about the marriage. That assumes, of course, that he will be at work on Monday, and not in some lawyer's office.
I did have a worry about him suing the Company. I guess that Managing Directors should keep their hands off employees' wives. But, in the unique circumstances, and under British law, I decided that he would have a weak case, if one at all.
On the Saturday, I felt very restless. So, I went and bought myself a bike. I thought that I could go cycling with Jamie and Ben as something to do on some weekends. I then went down to the motorists' supermarket on the retail park, and bought a cycle carrier. I am sure it was against all the rules, but the young lad who sold it to me was delighted to spend half an hour crawling all over a brand new XK, whilst he checked that the cycle rack could be easily mounted and dismounted on the tailgate.
Even with doing all of that, my mind was still running over Friday afternoon and I was still curious as to the truth of Peter and Molly and Friday. Eventually it got the better of me, and I phoned Susan and Ralph's and asked if I could have the boys and I'd take them to see a film, and buy them a meal.
No one said a word about Molly or Peter when I collected Jamie and Ben. Ralph and Susan both opened the door, and just called the boys. When we were in the restaurant, I did try asking Jamie and Ben about their home life, and a bit about how Mummy treated Peter, but I got nowhere. I felt that I couldn't ask too many probing or leading questions without scarring young minds. And when I returned the boys, Ralph opened the door, gave me a big smile, asked us all if we'd enjoyed the film, and no word was spoken about anything being odd. I could only assume that neither Molly nor Peter had spoken to Ralph and Susan. I told him that I might take the boys out on their bikes on Sunday, but that I'd phone once we'd seen the weather in the morning.
I spent that Saturday evening on the internet, looking for a good cycle route on which to take the boys. I think I found one.
The weather on Sunday was fine, and I phoned Ralph to say I'd pick up the boys as usual at eleven o'clock, for our cycle ride. When I got there, Ralph was happy and cheerful, and helped me load the boys' bikes onto the carrier. It was obvious that he knew of nothing wrong.
The three of us had a good time. I was beginning to feel that my relationship to the boys was getting stronger. I really think they enjoyed themselves, and they happily joked with me that I'd not bought enough food for the picnic.
When we got back, Molly's car was on the drive, and my heart missed a beat. I was very nervous as to what was about to happen. Ralph was out in the garden, and he was exactly as he had been in the morning.
Ralph quietly said, "Molly's here. Do you want a word with her?"
"Has she said she wants to see me?"
"No, she's having a cup of tea in the kitchen with her Mother."
Ralph opened the front door, and I could see Molly sitting at the kitchen table, through the doorway at the far end of the hall. She turned and looked at me, but didn't seem to react. The boys pushed past me, running in with Ben shouting "Mummy! Mummy! Guess what we've been doing? We've been out cycling with Daddy!"
Molly turned on her chair to greet them. Then she stood and just stared at me down the length of the hallway as I stood at the open front door. I waited for her to say something, I just stood there, watching her. Eventually, she turned to talk to Jamie, and I got in my car and drove away. I'm sure it was all very meaningful and important, but I just didn't know what it meant.
The next morning, in the office, I was just refreshing myself on the issues for my first meeting when there was a knock on my open office door, it was Myra.
"Have you got a couple of minutes?" She asked, and I noted that she looked pleased with herself.
"Sure." I answered, putting down my papers and leaning back in my chair.
"It's just that I thought you'd like to know that I think we're onto something with the value of Marston Abbey."
I noted the 'we're' in that statement, but smiled and said "Good. You have news?"
"Well, you remember I was having lunch with the local planning guy? We met out at the George in Marston village, conveniently next door to the site. Well, he was far from adverse to the idea. In fact, I think he'd be quite pleased if as part of our scheme we could sell them a tiny bit of the land for improving that lousy junction just this side of the village. And if we could sell or give some land for low cost housing, then I reckon he would be a very happy man. And the architect loved the idea that we might build some purpose built research laboratories, still near the village. By the time lunch was over, we were all quite excited."
Suddenly something made sense, "And don't tell me, you all went over to the Abbey that very afternoon."
She looked surprised, "Yes, but how did you know?"
I ignored her question, "Did anyone else join you?"
"Yes, later the architect called up a developer he thought might be interested, and an agent who has been looking for somewhere to put a new hotel for one of the major chains, he wouldn't tell me which one. And the Council guy called up a local Councillor, just to make sure that that anything discussed was open and above board. But to start with it was just the three of us looking round."
"And all of you went and viewed the Abbey, tramping all over it, discussing your plans? And pissing off the staff, who were probably a tad upset that the place was being sold without any warning to them?"
For the first time, Myra suddenly looked worried. "I thought you told me that you would clear it with Dr McBaine."
"I did. I told him that we were revaluing the property for accounting purposes. And that if it was ever sold, it would be after thought and planning. I didn't tell him that a bunch of property developers would be crawling all over the place in the next few days, carving up a deal to suit themselves."
"Oh!"
"Oh, indeed. What was the staff reaction?"
"Well, Dr McBaine wasn't there. I got Peter Davies to show us over the building. The staff didn't seem too worried, although I did hear Peter Davies having his leg pulled a bit."
"How were they pulling his leg precisely?"
Myra began to study her shoes, and looked embarrassed, and spoke in a quiet voice, "A couple of them said that him screwing your wife was probably the cause. You were going to sell the whole lot, just to get rid of him." She paused before she urgently added, "But he laughed. He seemed to take it well. But when the others turned up, he seemed to just disappear. I think some of the comments got a bit more pointed then. Sorry."
I sighed, "OK, Myra. It was a genuine mistake. But a little more diplomacy next time, please."
So, Peter Davies coming home wasn't planned. He was pissed off, probably suspecting that I was going to shake up his world. He should have stayed at work, little did he know what awaited him at home; his world would have been less shaken if he'd stay at work!
Well, it didn't explain everything. But my cuckold wimp theory was definitely weakened. I think my policy of doing nothing was still the best idea, especially if Peter and Molly were trying to put their marriage back together.
Myra would have got no further than the corridor outside Carole's room, when my phone rang, and Carole told me she had Piers McBaine on the line.
"Piers, what can I do for you on this Monday morning?" I decided that innocence was my best bet.
"Chris, I thought I ought to phone you and tell you about Friday afternoon."
"Go on."
"Well, I wasn't here, but I understand that Myra Hepsted turned up with a bunch of people, and Peter had to show them over the building. Apparently they were talking about it being turned into a hotel. And it didn't go down very well with some people here."
"I'm sorry. I can promise you that there are no such plans. Myra had lunch with some planners and developers. It got out of hand, and they got carried away. I've spoken to her, and told her off for her lack of diplomacy. Is there anything I can do to put peoples' minds at rest? Nothing is going to happen in the short term."
I heard Piers sigh, "To be honest it was probably a bit my fault. When I told them the place would get revalued, maybe I played it down a bit too much. I don't know about people coming in unannounced and talking about which wing would make the leisure centre, but I guess a team turning up to really look and measure up was a possibility, and I didn't warn anyone of that. But I'd like some warning next time."
"Point taken. Is there anything I can do to smooth it over?" I asked.
"No, it'll be alright. But I will quote you in a memo I'll put out."
"Then draft it up and show it to me first."
"OK. By the way, Peter has suddenly taken off. Maybe Friday afternoon got to him. But he phoned in this morning, and was apparently rather short with the receptionist. He is taking a couple of weeks off, and we can put it down to any damn thing we like, holiday, sick leave, he didn't give a damn."
"As you say, Friday afternoon may have got to him, but not just Myra. I had lunch with Molly on Friday, and she invited me back to their place afterwards, to see where Jamie and Ben actually live. I was there when Peter came home early, and I don't think he was very pleased to find me there." I thought that was all he needed to know.
"I doubt whether he would have been. Whether that's got anything to do with him suddenly taking leave I don't know. Maybe it's just some other ****** emergency."
"Well, ..... email me your draft memo."
So, Peter has taken some time off work. Maybe to go away and think about his marriage? Or, to take Molly away on a romantic holiday where they can talk and put things back together? I don't know. What I do know is that Molly's behaviour on Friday is an even bigger mystery.
The rest of Monday and Tuesday passed without anything new happening, but on Wednesday morning I thought it was time to show Myra that I wasn't too upset with her, so I called her up to my office for a progress meeting on Franks Engineering. We were talking across my desk when Carole brought in a tray of coffee, which she was about to lay on my desk, when I asked that she put it on the coffee table, "We might as well sit comfortably" I explained, looking at Myra.
Myra started gathering her papers that she had spread in front of her when Carole asked, "Have you decided whether you're going to the RNIB dance on Saturday of next week? They've been on the phone, they want to sort out the seating plan. You'll be on top table of course, if you're going."
I looked up, and watched Carole going through animated mime of nodding her head towards Myra, who had her back turned. I couldn't help but laugh.
Myra suddenly looked up and round at Carole, with that sixth sense that warns all of us once in a while, "What?"
"It's Carole. She's playing matchmaker." I said, still laughing.
Myra looked round at me, and I explained, "I need a date for this Easter Ball, and Carole thinks it ought to be you."
"What Easter Ball?"
"Royal National Institute for the Blind's Easter Ball. Apparently we sponsor it, and I'm meant to go." I paused to look winningly hopeful, "Would you go with me, please?"
"I don't know...." Myra sounded very doubtful.
I interrupted quickly, "It is a sort of business do for us. Surely you could come on a date for business?"
She still looked dubious, "Well ...........OK. Thank you." And she smiled.
I smiled back. "Thank you. I promise to be the perfect gentleman."
"Spoilsport!" She flirted back, then she had an afterthought, "If its for business, does that mean that I can buy a new dress on expenses?"
I laughed, "Don't push your luck."
Carole left with a "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" I'm not sure whether it was aimed at Myra or me.
I spent Thursday and Friday in London, sometimes supporting the sales team in presentations for possible clients, and some of the time at HQ. I tried to get to see The Old Man, and late on Friday afternoon, Pamela phoned me to say that he invited me to dinner, with Frances, at their home. That was a rare honour. I rebooked my hotel for an extra night, and phoned Ralph that I wouldn't get to see the boys until Sunday.
The dinner with The Old Man and Frances went well. He, of course, wanted a report on how Franks was going, and I chatted honestly about my hopes of how we might improve profitability, but also pleading for extra funds for research. We needed more products, which meant more research as well as doing marketing deals with other foreign companies. Frances was more interested in my love life, she knew of Helene and wanted an update. But there was nothing really important or meaningful in that conversation.
On Sunday I collected the boys and it was Susan who opened the front door. She treated me with stony silence, there was no smile and certainly no polite words. I guess they know something is wrong with Molly's marriage, and that I'm involved. As far as Susan is concerned, I guess it's all my fault.
When I got back with the boys, it was Ralph who met me. He looked at me in silence for quite a while, then he said, "Cup of tea in the shed, I think." And he just led the way to the bottom of the garden, I followed, feeling rather like a naughty schoolboy following the headmaster back to his study, knowing that's where the caning would happen.
Ralph just set to work making a cup of tea, I watched him and waited. Eventually, he looked at me and said, "So what happened?"
"What has she told you?" I countered. I had no intention of saying more than Molly had told him.
He smiled, acknowledging my move, "Not a lot. Come to that, I'm not sure I want to know a lot." He sighed, "You had lunch with Molly. You took her back to their house and Peter came home early and found you and Molly in what she described as an embarrassing scene."
"Well, that pretty much covers it. He's had the week off work, I do know that."
"Did you plan it, or know that he'd come home early?" Ralph looked at me hard, "Peter thinks you planned it all as some form of revenge. And Molly thinks you might have done."
I smiled, "Well I guess he'd blame me. But No, I didn't plan a thing. I promise you, Ralph, I went to lunch with my ex-wife, at her invitation I might add, with only two things on my agenda. First, I wanted to talk about the boys education. And second, I had some vague hope that it might be the start of building some sort of friendly relationship with Molly, for the boys' sake. And no, I didn't plan anything, and No I didn't know that Peter would come home early."
Ralph looked at me, still suspicious, "Molly says you acted as if you had it all planned out when Peter turned up. That you quoted some Bible reference at him. Neither of them can remember what it was."
"Matthew, 7:12"
"Oh, I had hoped it was Luke 6:31"
"I think the Matthew version is: Whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. But I think the two are much the same, Sermon on the Mount and all that."
Now he smiled, "Four years too late, but now you are fighting back."
"Good Heavens! No. I am not fighting back. He won, hands down. Cupid's little arrow was shot, and I lost a long time ago. But I couldn't resist reminding him that that's how it felt."
We stood staring at each other for a long moment, then the whistle sang on his kettle, and he made some tea.
I broke the silence, "You know your Bible quotes."
He smiled, "A childhood of Sunday School every week for years never leaves you. How about you?"
"A boss who can quote it at the drop of a hat. If you want to get ahead, you learn fast."
Again there was a pause, but it wasn't such an icy one. Then Ralph said, "You should tell Molly that you didn't plan it, why not go and see her?"
"No way, I'm not interfering more than I already have. Anyway, what's happened to them?"
"Peter's gone off to their little cottage in Wales, I think he inherited it from his Mother. They keep saying that Susan and myself should borrow it for a week, but we never do. Anyway, he's gone up there to think about things. She's at their house here."
I smiled, "Well I'll give him a better chance at putting things right than he ever gave me. When Molly first told me about Peter, I went and rented a little room for the week, just so that I could clear my head. When I came back the next week to talk about things, he'd spotted a marriage at its weakest, and had wined and dined her, or at least lunched her. By the time I got back my case was lost." I looked up at him, "I would have tried to put it right, but she was totally enamoured by then......"
"You should have tried anyway."
"There's no point in fighting a losing battle. I just gave her what she wanted, a divorce. And got on with my life." I smiled, "And it hasn't been so bad really. You get over these things."
"Talk to her."
"No way, they need space, time and privacy to put right whatever is wrong. Its bad enough that I've been part of a problem for them, they don't need me around."
He sighed, and we drank our tea in silence, except for one question from me, "I guess Susan blames me for all this?"
"Of course."
It was late morning on Tuesday that I came up from doing my bit at a sales presentation downstairs, as I approached Carole's office, I could see the most fabulous pair of legs with the highest pair of heels any woman could actually wear, sitting on the sofa opposite Carole's desk. There was only one person who had that good a pair of legs, and who would wear that high a heel, "Helene! What a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?"
I ushered her into my office, asking Carole for coffee and telling her to cancel my next meeting. As I shut the door, Helene flung her arms around my neck and kissed me full and hard on the lips. "I've missed you, Chris. I've missed you so much."
To be honest the next hour wasn't much fun. I guess Carole got a snapshot image of it when she came in with coffee, and it was the only time that I've known Carole to knock before she entered. Helene and myself were both sitting on the longer of the two sofas, both sitting sideways so that we see each others' eyes and faces. Put simply, she loved me and couldn't live without me, and wanted to come and live and work in Bristol. It was hard for me to try and express how important she was to me, how grateful I was to her, but there was no future for us. I just didn't love her enough. There were tears, and hugs, and more tears, and the offer of the greatest sex life ever, whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. But it all came to the same thing, there was no future.
Eventually, I think she began to admit defeat. She dried her eyes and blew her nose one more time, and weakly smiled, "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."
"I am so flattered." I smiled, and kissed her cheek gently.
"I think I need to repair my face. Where is there a bathroom?"
"Through that door." I pointed the way to my private bathroom. "Where are you going to go now?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "To the airport, I guess."
"Well, you go and smarten yourself up, and I'll see if I can get out of whatever I'm meant to be doing for lunch. If I can, then I'll drive you. If not, well I'll get you a taxi."
She smiled again, and headed for the bathroom. I watched her go. Sighed heavily. And then I went to see Carole.
As I opened my office door, I came face to face with Molly.
"Molly! You came to see me?"
"Yes. Sorry to disturb you, but suddenly I got the courage to come and see you." She smiled.
I saw Carole watching this from her desk.
"Well, I've got Helene here at the moment, and I was hoping to take her to lunch....."
I shouldn't have said it, I should have thought quicker, but I didn't. Molly looked shocked and then hurt. Without a word she just turned and left.
I turned to Carole, "What was that about? Did she say anything to you?"
"No. She just said she needed to speak to you. But she seemed very nervous, on edge, if you know what I mean."
I shook my head slowly, "Well, I can imagine that she might want to talk to me. I think she and Peter have problems at the moment."
There was a long silence, probably Carole waiting for me to explain a little more, which I wasn't going to do. Eventually, Carole broke it with "Well, you can't get away at lunchtime, not unless you want to upset Sir George Havers and his entourage from Oxfordshire Health waiting for you downstairs in Sales."
"Bugger! Well can you get a taxi for Helene. She needs to get back to the airport."
"Well I'll take her if you like."
"No you won't. You'd never be able to resist asking questions."
Carole straightened herself in her chair, "In the words of the delectable Myra - spoilsport!"
"It's not funny!"
Her smile fell away, "No, I don't expect it is." She said quietly, and she started to look up the number for a taxi.
I returned to my office and told Helene that I couldn't get out of my lunch, and I escorted her down to Reception. Her taxi turned up quite quickly, and I gave her a big hug and a kiss as we said goodbye at the bottom of the Reception steps.
After lunch I went back to my office, Carole looked up as I came in and there was a kind concern in her eyes, "You are all right, aren't you Chris? I had a worry about you at lunch."
I smiled, "Yes, I'm fine. It wasn't fun with Helene, but I'd told her before that the answer was No. She just had to try one more time. And I don't know what Molly was all about." I paused for a moment, "I just wish that I could understand some of what's going on in my life."
Just then, Myra came through the door with a file. She looked at me and smiled, handing the file to Carole, "Just some figures on the transferring the Accounts' systems that he should see sometime."
I watched her walk away, she was wearing a fairly long but very tight skirt, and the view from the rear was entrancing. As I turned back I saw Carole smiling.
"What?" I asked, a bit indignant at getting caught.
Carole smiled, and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes, "Let me get this straight: Molly is the great love of your life, but she's history. But her new husband, Peter works for you and is upset that you've turned up. And they've got trouble which I assume is not totally unconnected with you being here. And Helene loves you and wants to marry you. But you fancy Myra."
I smiled, "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Rick will be pleased."
"I know I shouldn't ask, but why?"
"Well he's always going on at me for watching my soaps on the telly. He says the plots are all too far fetched." She paused and smiled at me, "I won't have to watch them now."
I laughed, "Get on with your work."
Molly didn't come back, and I decided not to phone her.
On Friday I saw Myra quite briefly. She asked if she could change for this Easter Ball at my place, to save her having to drive over from Bath in a full length dress. Of course I agreed.
On Saturday, I collected the boys for lunch from Ralph and Susan's. Susan answered the door, and even smiled at me. As the boys were climbing into the car, Ralph came over and said, "It looks like Peter and Molly are going to be alright. He's come back and he's taking her out tonight. So you missed your chance."
"I wasn't looking for a chance, Ralph. Molly tried to come and see me in the week, but we never talked."
"Well, maybe that's just as well." He said, patted my shoulder and went back to his gardening.
I did ask the boys how their week had been at home without Peter, but Jamie said, "Mummy said we weren't to talk about it with you."
I backed off immediately. She was right, the boys shouldn't be a conduit for gossip.
I didn't really see Ralph or Susan when I took the boys back. Susan opened the door, the boys ran in and that was that.
I went home, made myself a cup of tea, and then showered and changed ready for the RNIB Easter Ball.
Myra turned up on time, looking casual but sexy. She'd obviously had her hair done, and then she wiggled her fingers in front of my face, "You've had your nails done. It is only a local fund raiser, you know."
"And a first date." She corrected me.
I offered her a cup of tea, and then left her in my bedroom and bathroom.
A little under an hour later a vision in black and rich yellows and orange made an entrance from my bedroom. I looked, smiled and said "Wow!"
Her dress was totally strapless, the top looked as if it was some form of tight, soft corset, but from the hip down it was a very full skirt. She had an ornate and heavy necklace, dripping in yellow gems. And she had heavy drop earrings to match.
"What a wonderful necklace. It's Victorian isn't it, it looks old? They're citrines aren't they?"
"You know your gemstones. I'll look forward to my birthday." She smiled, "Yes. It was my great grandmother's and it's come down to me. You are honoured, I very rarely wear them."
I stepped up to her, very close and put my arms around her, "I feel honoured. I'll have the most beautiful girl in the room on my arm, and she's a bejewelled jewel." And I leant in and kissed her.
She was very hesitant at first, but then she returned it with passion. Eventually we broke apart slightly, and she brought us down to earth, "Come on, we'll be late, and you are an honoured guest., you should be punctual."
I have to admit, I had some doubts about an Easter Ball for the blind. I wondered what sort of special arrangements there was going to be. I shouldn't have worried, it was a great evening. Of course, I was an honoured guest, as Myra had said, and we were treated like royalty.
As we mingled with the crowd, I noticed that Franks staff seemed to be supporting the event well. I guess some of them, like me, were there as a matter of duty as much as pleasure, but there were plenty who must just be doing their charitable bit.
We were obviously to be seated at the top table, and Dennis Murrell, my problem production director, and his wife were also on our table. They seemed to be a well matched couple, she was as sour faced as he was old-fashioned. I was glad I was out of conversation range from them.
It was after we had sat down to eat, and the room had fallen to a loud murmur of conversations, and everything seemed orderly for a while that I looked around the room and saw them. If myself and Myra were at Table 1, then Peter and Molly were sitting at about Table 20. They had their back to me, but I could still recognise Molly from the back. She was wearing a bright pink dress, but I thought there was a weariness about her shoulders.
I tried making small talk with my neighbour as I thought about what I was going to do about Molly and Peter being here. It seemed odd thing to come here as an act of reconciliation, but I guessed that they probably booked this night some weeks ago, and getting dressed up for a formal big night might work. I wondered if I should go and say hello, even whether I should ask Molly for a dance. But, being a coward, and full of indecision, I decided to do nothing, let them find me - if they wanted to.
At the end of the meal, and before the dancing started, they decided to draw the raffle. I was invited to read out the winners, and Myra was invited to make the draw. What no one had warned me about was that I was also invited to make a speech. I sort of stumbled through it, with all the right words about how we were delighted to support the evening, and the company's fight to improve eyesight medical equipment. And a told a couple of decent jokes, that seemed to go down well.
When I came down off the stage a thought ran through my head that Peter and Molly couldn't be innocent of my presence now. But they never approached me.
I danced with Myra, and with a couple of the senior wives. I did see Peter and Molly dancing once, early on, but after that they seemed to disappear. Towards midnight I thought Myra was beginning to look a little weary. She had done so well being charming to everyone, and dancing with a lot of old men, I was very impressed and proud of her. I invited her onto the dance floor one more time, and suggested that maybe it was time for us to go home. She seemed relieved, and excused herself to go to the Ladies. When she returned we said our farewells and left.
In the car I praised her, for being so charming to all and sundry. "I'm very proud that I had such a charming companion tonight. Thank you."
She smiled cheekily, "You haven't had me yet." I smiled, she has a wonderfully naughty sense of humour.
She interrupted my thoughts, "Anyway, I'm rather proud that I was invited. You were quite a hit you know. When I went to the Ladies, several women were talking about how charming and sexy you were."
"But I bet it all went quiet when they recognised you."
"Yes, except for one. She asked if we were a permanent item?"
"And what did you say?"
"I told her I was working on it. That was a bit naughty of me, but it didn't seem right to say this was our first date."
"What colour dress was she wearing?"
"Fuchsia. Why?"
"That's bright pink isn't it?"
She was hesitant as she answered, "Yes?"
I didn't explain. Let tomorrow look after itself. My main worry was that Jamie and Ben will want to know all about a new woman in my life.
As we drove back to my place I wondered how the evening should end, and how it would end, and how I wanted it to end. Well, I knew the answer to the last bit, in bed screwing like rabbits!
Once we were indoors I went to pour myself a brandy, as a nightcap. "Would you like a coffee, or even a brandy if it won't put you over the limit."
I turned to hear her reply. She stepped close to me, and I leant over and took her in my arms and kissed her.
"A brandy would be nice, and I guess I'll be OK to drive - in the morning." She whispered and kissed me again.
I felt myself slightly stiffen, in the backbone - not the crotch, that was already stiffening.
She must have caught a look in my eyes, "Doubts?"
"Well, I am your boss."
"And I'm not some silly secretary, pissed at the office party. I know what I'm doing, and I think you'll still respect me in the morning."
"Yes, I will, but I'll still be your boss in the morning as well."
She kissed me again, "I like you and trust you, and because you have doubts is precisely why I know it'll be OK. Please, I need to."
"Because of Jonathon?"
"Partly. But also because I want you."
I poured her a brandy and handed it to her. As she held it, I put my arms around her and found what I hoped would be the zip of her dress. It wasn't.
"Little clasps, all the way down the back." She whispered.
Slowly, one at a time, I undid her dress. At the bottom of the corset top I found a little zip that ran a few inches down the full skirt. When all was undone, the dress remained in place around her, probably because we were standing so close together. Myra stood back and gave a little shake, and the whole dress fell away in a pool around her feet. She stood there in a little black g-string or thong, black lace top thigh high stockings and shiny black high heeled strappy sandals. She was the perfection of a wet dream.
Stupidly, my initial remark was "What a wonderful tan."
She smiled, "I've only just come back from holiday a few weeks ago." She half turned to be sideways to me, "And anyway, I've got obvious tan lines where my bikini was a lot bigger than this silly string."
I smiled, "I'll cope."
I took hold of her hand, her fingers really, in a very polite way, drew her to me, kissed her, and then led the way to the bedroom. Both of us were still carrying our brandies, and by some unspoken agreement, we went to opposite sides of the bed and put our glasses down on the bedside tables.
She kicked off her shoes, and put each leg in turn on the bed and peeled off her stockings. Then I saw her thumbs go into the waist band of her g-string.
"No, I'll do that, if I may."
She smiled and laid down on the bed, just gently smiling up at me.
I started to undress, and she watched me. The silence, the expectation was becoming deafening, so I looked at her and said, "God! You're sexy."
That seemed to prompt her, she stroked her hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts, letting the fingers pass over her nipples, and seemingly bring them to even greater erection.
Once I was naked I joined her on the bed. I leaned over her and kissed her full on the lips, her mouth opened to allow my probing tongue in. Then I moved down her to kiss her nipples. She remained cupping her breasts, as if offering them to me, and that was a turn on. I looked down on her, she was still wearing a little black g-string and a heavy necklace and earrings. I took hold of the strings of her g-string on each hip and started to slide them down, "And now the piece de resistance."
She smiled, "No resistance." And she lifted her hips off the bed.
And then I saw that she was completely shaved. And her pussy lips were flushed pink.
"Wow!" I said. "You are a sight for a sex starved old man." And I positioned myself between her legs and licked her pussy from bottom to top.
From that moment on our scene turned to one of passionate oral sex. Even with all the experience of my bad years, eating a totally shaven woman was new. I'd had a couple of girls who were totally shaved, but I hadn't gone down on them. I loved it, it was something new.
She orgasmed quickly and easily. And then we got onto the main event. At first we were both quite gentle and slow, but then I started to raise the pace, and I was thrusting in and out for all I was worth. Tonight I was a stayer! Maybe, deep inside me there were emotions floating around that I didn't understand, or even know of, but for some reason I was taking my time to cum. But cum I did, eventually.
"Wow!" was Myra's only comment as we came down from our orgasmic highs.
I smiled, and kissed her gently.
We lay there and sipped our brandies. And then Myra said "I think I ought to clean my teeth and take my make-up off." And we both prepared for going to bed, like any domestic couple, in and out of the bathroom and tidying clothes.
Finally, I had by best silk boxers on ready to sleep, and was lying on the bed when she came out of the bathroom wearing a short nightdress, it clung to her breasts and was tight over her stomach but then ended in a frilled skirt at her hips, it was only just covering her pussy.
I looked at her and smiled. "Pity." I commented.
"What is?"
"That I can't see that lovely shaven pussy."
She smiled and came to me on the bed. She gave me a big kiss, loving not passionate. "I can't tell you, Chris, how important all of this is to me."
"Jonathon?"
"Yes, Jonathon."
"First time since....?"
"Yes."
I kissed her, "Was he the shaven pussy addict?"
She sort of snorted, "Hardly! In fact his fetish was the opposite."
"He didn't like you to shave it at all? Or even trim it? What about bikini's and sunbathing?"
"I'm not naturally too hairy, so I usually could find something to wear. But we hardly ever went on sunshine holidays. Jonathon was a skiing nut."
"Oh."
"But it was the underarm bit that was far worse."
"He wouldn't let you shave under your arms? God! How did you manage?"
She smiled, "With difficulty. But I have the best wardrobe of trouser suits you could find anywhere."
"Or your legs? Good God, Myra. Why did you put up with it?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "In the short term, well it was better than a spanking. He used to be into over the knee spankings as well. In the long term, well I guess I used to love him."
"You're well off out of it." Then a thought struck me, "The spankings were just sex play fun weren't they? He didn't get too rough did he?"
"No. They stung, but that's all they were. At first, years ago, it was just fun, but then they came too often, and on the least excuse."
"Never my scene. Fun - Yes, but causing pain? Sorry, it's just not my scene."
"Nor mine - well not any longer, and never again."
"Good! Was the off the shoulder dress part of the rebellion of you reclaiming you, as well?"
"Yes. I wasn't dressing for you. I was dressing for me. I haven't been able to lift a bare arm in public for six years." She smiled and shrugged.
I took her into my arms and just cuddled her, there was nothing I could say. I pulled the quilt over us and we fell asleep.
In the morning I awoke to see Myra lying with her back to me. I snuggled up, with a very stiff cock nudging into her bottom.
"Mmmm...Jnth ...." She rolled over and looked at me and smiled, "Chris....."
No prizes for guessing who she was dreaming of! I smiled and kissed her gently on the lips. Our kiss turned to passion, and I swung over her, between her legs. I slid in, she was so wet. After a couple of minutes of missionary position I knelt up, "Come on, turn over, let's do something different."
She looked dubious, but turned over, into doggy position as I wanted. I slid my cock down the crease in her arse to slide it into her pussy. As my cock head passed her anus her head came up, "Not there, I promised...." There was real urgency and fear in her voice.
She looked round at me, I held my cock and looked at her. She smiled, "I promised my Mother: No anal on a first date."
Good recovery, I thought. I slid into her pussy. And within a minute that moment was forgotten, and she was pushing back at me with my rhythm.
Afterwards, I shaved and showered, leaving her in bed. Then I went off to make a cup of coffee for us both whilst Myra had the bedroom and bathroom to herself. It wasn't long before she came into the kitchen.
"You're looking good." I said as she entered.
She smiled, "And that smells good."
I passed her a mug of coffee. "When we've ***** this, I'll take you out to breakfast. There's a café down the road that I've found has an excellent breakfast menu. Everything from a European half a loaf through to an English half a farmyard."
She sipped her coffee, "Scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee sounds like heaven."
"I'm sure they can do that. It's nice to hear a girl wanting a cooked breakfast, most of your gender seem to want muesli and a yoghurt."
"Not on a Sunday. Can we get a Sunday paper on the way, to sit and read whilst we eat?"
I smiled, "And you'll read a paper at the table! We were meant for each other."
We had a nice leisurely breakfast. I was dying to ask questions about Jonathon, but my interest was just nosiness about another guy's fetishes really, and I wasn't going to push her on the subject. It was more important for Myra to try to leave him behind, and anyway, she didn't seem to want to talk. So, we strolled back to my place, and I explained that Sunday was a day for me and my sons, and excused myself to go and collect them for lunch, whilst she headed home.
Ralph opened the front door for me, and the boys came straight out. As I turned to follow them, Ralph caught my arm, I looked at him and thought he looked both worried and tired.
"I think you ought to know that Molly and Peter still seem to have problems. She turned up here at about two o'clock this morning and slept here. She was obviously very upset, but at that hour in the morning it seemed best to just get her and us back to bed. And then this morning she didn't want to talk, but she's gone back to see him. The boys don't know, I guess you shouldn't raise doubts and worries in their minds just yet, so please go carefully."
I was surprised, and I guess it showed, "I saw them last night and ....."
"You saw them?"
"Yes. It was at the RNIB Easter Ball. The company gives them a lot of help so I had to go, it was a sort of official engagement. But they were there. It struck me as a bit odd, it's not the sort of thing I would choose for a serious talk and reconciliation. A nice French restaurant, candlelight and a quiet chat would be more my line, but each to his own."
"I think they've been to it before. So maybe it was booked up weeks ago. How were they?"
"Well, they didn't speak to me, and they must have seen me. I decided not to approach them, it seemed to me that it would be better to leave them in peace, especially considering what I guess they were trying to do. But from what I saw they seemed happy enough."
"Well something must have happened. Then or after they got home." He shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, this time, it certainly wasn't me." I said firmly.
Ralph smiled, "It's always you. Probably more than you realise."
I laughed, "Well, I can't do anything about being me. Sorry." And I went and joined the boys, to talk about what sort of lunch they fancied.
