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Author:
Genre:
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Ken Orford
Modern Fiction
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As soon as her car door shut I sprinted to put on my trainers and grab
my coat, car keys and wallet. I’d have to be quick if I
wasn’t to lose her. I had no guarantee the Stag and Hounds
was
her real destination. I watched her reverse out and drive off
–
it was in the right direction, so that was a plus. As soon as I knew
she’d be out of sight, I dashed out, slammed the door and
jumped
in my car.
It was dusk and late Spring, so cars had their lights on though you
could still see reasonably well. But Sandie’s silver Golf was
nowhere to be seen.
Damn!
I drove the few miles to the Stag and Hounds, and parked about fifty
metres away, on the forecourt of a Post Office. I put on the dark
jacket I’d brought and a dark blue New York Yankees baseball
cap.
I got out of the car and walked towards the pub car park. I could hear
the noise of “The Granites” bashing out a cover of
a
Stereophonics song. I walked all round the car park – there
was a
silver Golf, but not Sandie’s. I headed back the short
distance
to my car thinking how I should go about a search, when a silver Golf
flashed by, indicating it was turning into the pub. I watched as Sandie
drove in and parked.
And then, you could have knocked me down with a feather.
Out of the passenger door stepped Debbie, one of the other teachers at
Sandie’s school.
A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. The sickness in the pit of my
stomach and the ache in my chest disappeared in a flash. Then another
emotion got me. Guilt. I should have had more faith that my plan was
going to have a quick effect.
Oh God, no!
Sandie had got out of the car, but had left the engine running. She
walked round to Debbie, talked to her for a minute, they hugged and
Sandie got back in.
The weight, the sickness and the ache returned - in spades!
I jogged to my car. I definitely didn’t want to lose her this
time. The Golf swung out and down the road, away from me. The road was
quiet, so following her was easy. It was only a couple of miles
–
I should have guessed – Sandie drove into the Three Frogs,
the
pub by the river that was mentioned in the email. I parked round the
corner and sprinted to the car park. I was just in time to see them.
Simon had his arm around her and they were talking, heading for the pub
door. Just as they got to the door, they stopped and kissed. They
locked eyes, he said something to her, she laughed and they went in.
Imagining a scene like that and actually being there are very
different. The remains of my tea soon found its way to the bushes.
Having recovered a few minutes later, I walked round the car park
– Sandie’s Golf was parked at the far end
– away from
all the other cars, apart from a BMW 4x4.
Oh Sandie, not with someone who drives one of those things.
I was almost more mad at her choice of lover (I have always considered
people who drive 4x4’s around town complete prats), than I
was at
the fact that she had one in the first place!
I found a bench on the riverbank that I could sit on, and still be able
to see the pub door. All day my worst fears had been pretty much
realised. And right now my over-riding fear was that Sandie and Simon
would reappear quite quickly, jump into his car and head off to some
dark spot or (if the bastard had some style) a hotel.
Christ! Does the pub have any rooms? Is it a hotel?
I scanned all the signs outside. Food, Football Matches televised, bar
staff wanted; then I breathed a sigh of relief – no
accommodation
signs. And for once, my worst fears were not realised. It was almost
two hours before, arm in arm, Simon and Sandie came out of the pub. I
went back to my car and waited. What would it be? A BMW with two people
in? Or a Golf and a BMW going their separate ways. In the event, it was
neither. I waited ten minutes, and decided to go and see.
The car park had emptied a little, but my two targets were still there.
The light shone so that I could make out Sandie’s car was
unoccupied. But I couldn’t see anything in the BMW
– the
windows were far too steamed up.
If there had been any more tea for me to bring up, I would have. I
almost, oh so nearly, ran to the beamer and dragged my wife out. But I
didn’t. She wanted excitement, but I suspected maybe that
would
have been too much excitement for her.
I made a decision. I could stand the torture no longer. I turned on my
heels, resisted the temptation to look back, got to my car and set off
home.
If you told me I’d run three people down on the way back,
I’d probably believe you. Autopilot doesn’t come
close to
describing it. The quiet as I turned off the engine was what brought me
out of the trance. I went inside, brushed my teeth (I hate being sick),
and then got myself a beer, fed a noisy Mollie on the way, and turned
on Match Of The Day. I’d been home 20 minutes when I saw
Sandie’s car’s lights turn into the drive. I jumped
up, I
didn’t want to give her any chance to compose herself before
coming in.
“Hey, have a good time?” I shouted from the
doorstep as she
opened the car door.
“Yeah, it was okay.”
“Well, I hope that it was a bit more than
‘okay’
considering you gave up an evening of celebration with me.”
She smiled, straightened her skirt and casually moved it round, back
into place as she walked to the front door. It was so nonchalant that
if I hadn’t been looking for signs, I wouldn’t have
noticed. I barred her way and stooped to make her kiss me as she went
in. I wanted her to feel massively guilty that she had been
…
what? Well at least kissing … someone else not ten minutes
ago.
As I lifted my head from the kiss I noticed a real giveaway –
she
had missed out a button on her blouse when she had done it up.
Well looks like Simon at least got to play with the nipples again! And
I suspect a bit more.
I asked her if she wanted some chocolate or tea (Sandie
doesn’t
do coffee), but she replied she was tired and was going to bed.
“Good idea – I’ll come too.”
“Aren’t you watching the football?”
I shook my head and told her I couldn’t be bothered. I turned
off
the TV and headed upstairs. When we got to the bedroom, I looked at her:
“Christ Sandie, have you been like that all night?”
“Like what?”
“Flashing your admittedly very gorgeous tits to all the men
in
the pub.”
The panic in her eyes was evident, but to her credit she held it
together.
“It can’t have been noticeable – one of
the girls
would have told me.”
“Well, I got a nice eyeful. Hey sexy, come over here and let
me
get a nice handful.”
She’d started to unbutton the blouse, to get rid of the
evidence
I supposed, and then said:
“Down boy, I’m off to the bathroom.”
Sandie was a while – she had a shower, not that unusual in
the
evening, and came out wearing her pale blue, silk pyjamas. I showered
quickly, and soon joined her in bed.
When you’ve been married twenty years, you know the signals
without any kind of verbal interaction. You know the “are you
interested in it tonight” moves, and the
“yes”,
“no” and “maybe” responses. My
questioning
caress was met with an equally gentle put off. Almost all of the time
that would have meant we just settled down and went to sleep. But not
tonight. The reason she’d be saying “no”
was Simon,
and the associated guilt. I wanted her to feel that – to feel
guilty about turning me down tonight, knowing that it was because
she’d been with someone else.
I tried again.
“Not tonight babe. I really am tired – tomorrow.
Promise.”
Then she kissed me on the cheek, turned away from me and settled down
to sleep.
Day two of Plan “Get Sandie Back” dawned late
Spring bright
– perfect for what I had planned. As I thought about the
plans I
realised what had woken me up. Mollie was jumping from me to Sandie in
an attempt to get one of us up. I moved my arm round Sandie’s
torso:
“Are you faking it?”
“Yes”, she replied through her teeth.
“How do you know I was talking about being asleep?”
As Sandie rolled over to face me two things happened – both
by
accident. Mollie went flying from the bed, and my hand slipped inside
her pyjama top. She kissed me:
“I never have to fake it with you.”
I kissed her back as my hand caressed her breast and I fought back a
cutting response. A dozen came into my head – along with
images
of a steamed up 4x4 and Simon’s hands unbuttoning
Sandie’s
blouse and doing exactly what mine was doing now.
Mollie jumped back on the bed and started wailing the way only hungry,
impatient cats can. I inched away to get up and feed her. Sandie
grabbed my neck and pulled me back.
“Sod the bloody cat, I need you more ...”
It was almost mid morning by the time Mollie got her Whiskas. As I
moved away from Sandie there was a mutual “ouch” as
our
stuck together bodies parted.
“Christ, I think I just lost a layer of skin,” she
grinned
at me, “but it was worth it. You have no idea how much I
needed
that!”
I smiled down at her.
Well, that probably means one thing – they may have had a
good
old grope around in the 4x4, but they didn’t do it.
As I walked down the stairs I was beginning to feel a bit used. Was I
the consolation prize? Had I just been used as a Simon substitute?
Well if I have, it was pretty damn hot. And I think Sandie enjoyed it a
lot too! Tough Simon, I think the home team just equalised.
I was just getting breakfast sorted when Sandie appeared in one of my T
shirts. Women just look sexy as hell in oversized T shirts –
and
what’s more they bloody know it. I looked at her:
“You know, I think I fancy you even more than I did twenty
years
ago. And if we didn’t have a full day, I’d take you
back to
bed now. Actually, I wouldn’t – it would be the
kitchen
table.”
She giggled that it had been a long time since we had made a point of
christening every room in the house. I started to laugh.
“What?” she asked.
“I was just thinking of how we couldn’t stop
laughing when
did the downstairs loo. I was nearly in traction after those
contortions.”
She walked over, kissed me and looked into my eyes. For the first time
in two days I felt I was again looking into my wife’s
gorgeous
green eyes, and not those of another woman.
“Well I had bruises on my bum for a week! But it was fun.
Anyway,
what’s all this about a busy day, we’ve nothing
planned.”
“You just be ready to leave at 12:30 – casual dress
is
fine.”
She looked at me with a very suspicious but ‘excited little
girl’ expression.
“Ooookaaay.”
All through breakfast she tried to find out what was planned, where we
were going. But I held firm. In truth I was loving it – her
reaction was better even than I’d hoped for when
I’d
hatched the plan on the sofa on Saturday morning.
I showered first and came down as Sandie emerged from the study. I
didn’t ask her what she’d been doing in there
– but I
started to feel that anxiety and tightness across my chest. She went up
to get ready, kissing me as we passed at the foot of the stairs.
I left it a minute or two, then got the laptop and logged on
…
to Sandie’s account. There was the e-mail sent ten minutes
ago
– in the deleted items folder.
“Hi
I need to see you. Soon. I have a parents’ evening tomorrow,
and
Alan and I are meeting two old friends for dinner Tuesday. Can you do
Wednesday after work? Six o’clock at the same place?
S xx”
I closed my eyes, the roller coaster my emotions were experiencing had
just done a triple loop.
How can she do this to me? Did the last couple of hours mean absolutely
nothing to her?
I was beginning to think that I might not win this contract after all.
But the fat lady isn’t singing yet! You decided to fight for
her,
so give it your best shot.
The Sunday afternoon and evening I had planned went like clockwork.
Having walked to the station, we got the train to Waterloo. First there
were tickets to the latest exhibition at the British Museum. Sandie,
who has a History degree, had been going on and on about how she wanted
to see it. She loved it and we bought half the souvenir shop on the way
out.
We followed that with a light dinner, and then a champagne trip on the
London Eye. Neither of us had ever been on it, though we had often said
we ought to do it. We both loved it. The sun was going down, and the
lights of London were coming on. The City twinkled in the half light
and the Wembley arch shone, but not as much as Sandie’s eyes
had
when she turned to hug me and thank me for a wonderful day.
That evening we showered together, and then took another layer of skin
off ….
We were all hugs and smiles at breakfast. Through a mouthful of cereal
I managed to decipher that Sandie would be late as she had a
parents’ evening, and that she was reminding me we were out
with
Terry and Jill for a Chinese tomorrow.
“Anything Wednesday?” I asked in the most casual
fashion I
could muster.
“Just a meeting after work – won’t be
late
though.”
I nodded a response and ten minutes later we were in our cars and off
to work.
Everyone was in a buoyant mood at work – still in the
afterglow
of the contract victory. My mood was in contrast, I just
couldn’t
figure it out. Sandie and I had had a terrific weekend, but she still
wanted to see her would be lover “soon”. Maybe it
was going
to be a really long fight, and I would have to wait for her to get
bored with him – or me.
No. That’s not going to happen – I’m not
going to
have a long drawn out fight for her. Sandie must realise soon that she
is going to have to make a decision. Him or me.
“What’s the matter with you, Mr Grumpy?”
Jackie, my Admin Manager, was looking at me with raised eyebrows.
I just shrugged.
“Bit of a mixed weekend. Some highs, and a couple of lows
too.”
She bent over to ruffle my hair, and as she did so her shirt hung down
flashing her boobs (and a very nice lacy bra).
“Hey, you’ll have someone’s eye out with
those!” I joked.
We had worked together for over five years. We had got drunk together
on more occasions than one, and when her husband left three years ago
it was my shoulder she’d cried on. We had flirted a lot
–
but it was all harmless – she was a mate. But God, she had a
hell
of a pair! And it didn’t stop there, she had a very decent
figure
and fantastic legs - helped by the fact she always wore stilettos. She
always said she had to because she was so short.
For a moment I considered telling her everything. But I
couldn’t
– the emotions were still a bit too raw. Jackie parked her
very
attractive bottom in my visitor’s chair, and we started to
talk.
About nothing. About everything – well, almost everything.
When
she got up with a “better get back to work or my new boss,
the
Projects Director, will be wanting to fire me”, we had spent
a
good deal of time laughing.
I looked at her and smiled:
“Thanks. I needed that. Oh, by the way, nice bra.”
I winked.
She giggled and turned to walk away, then stopped and looked over her
shoulder:
“Well, anytime you want to help me take it off –
all you
have to do is ask.” She winked back.
I’m not sure how long my jaw had been resting on the
keyboard,
but it must have been a few seconds. In my mind I always knew we were
really good friends – but that was one hell of a come on. I
watched her going about her job – smiling, relaxed, confident
– and definitely competent. But more than that –
she always
acted openly and was always honest. She said she was a
“WYSIWYG
person – what you see is what you get”. I really
liked that
right now, when one bit of my life was clouded in deceit.
She looked up and caught me looking at her. She smiled and slowly drew
a hand from her neck, down her shirt collar to her cleavage and
simultaneously licked her lips.
I laughed and mouthed “tease”. We must have made
eye
contact a dozen times that Monday, and as I thought of Simon and Sandie
and what would happen if she wanted his excitement more than what I
could offer. I imagined myself with Jackie. Kissing those lips, taking
up her invitation to help ….
Oh God! Maybe this is how it starts. Friendship, flirting, genuine
attraction – and then curiosity and anticipation. The fun of
the
chase. The will she, won’t she. All that stuff that when you
marry, you’re glad it’s behind you. But somehow, it
is
exciting. And it does set your heart racing.
As luck would have it – or maybe as Jackie had planned it
–
we left together that night. As we approached my car, she grabbed my
hand:
“Alan, I meant what I said. Anytime, all you have to do is
ask.”
And before I could say anything, she kissed my cheek, turned and walked
to her car. I watched her go, her heels clicking on the car park
tarmac. She had the sexiest, most feminine walk I could imagine.
If anyone says that women don’t have a sixth sense then they
are
lying. Don’t ask me how, but Jackie had obviously picked up I
was
unhappy – and was trying to boost my ego and cheer me up
–
as well as trying to get me into her bed! I could think of a lot worse
places to be.
While Sandie was getting harassed by parents who wanted to know why
little Johnnie didn’t have his degree yet
(“didn’t
she realise he was an incredibly bright child?”), I got
dinner
ready – nothing too heavy or complicated, just a chicken
salad.
But I took ten minutes out to check the e-mail – both hers
and
mine.
There it was – a simple reply saying he’d be there,
and
commenting on how much he’d enjoyed Saturday. Half of me
wanted
him to go into the grizzly details, but the other half of me was
relieved he didn’t. I set the mail back to
“unread”
and logged off.
Sandie came home and she told me the usual stories of
parents’
evenings. We ate, watched a bit of TV, one of the twins rang
– so
we chatted to him for a while – and then we went to bed. I
noticed Sandie took a couple of minutes out to check her e-mail. Not
unusual at all.
Tuesday was a busy, chaotic day at work for some reason, so the evening
with Terry and Jill was just what I needed. Witty banter, funny stories
and just happy memories. And for a whole evening, Simon was not in my
head.
As I lay in bed that night, I could feel Sandie’s slow,
steady
breathing in my ear. She had an arm and a leg draped over me, her head
on my shoulder. I wondered if this time tomorrow she would have had sex
with Simon. Would she want to come near me? Would I want her to come
near me? Would I be able to tell if she had done it with him?
Decisions, decisions.
Should I go and spy on them again? No, that was way too painful.
What then? I slowly started to realise what I wanted –
revenge! I
wanted her to hurt like I did. To feel the anguish I had felt. My
thoughts were all about geese – and sauces…
Decisions, decisions.
Did I really want to do that? Increasingly, I felt the answer was yes.
As we left the house the next morning, she gave me a much bigger kiss
than normal:
“Don’t forget I’ll be a bit late
tonight.”
How could I forget?
I felt my stomach start to churn in a way that had become all too
familiar over the past few days. I watched Sandie (God, she looked
good) get in her car and drive off. I felt sick at the thought of the
next time I would see her.
That Wednesday morning, on the doorstep, watching Sandie’s
car
disappear into the distance I had no idea that the next time I saw her,
it would be nothing like I had anticipated.
It was going to be a busy day at work – lots of heavy
planning
meetings about the new contract. Jackie came in just after I had sat
down at my desk. God, she looked absolutely stunning. She came round to
my side of the desk – she smelled even better than she
looked.
“Wow, you smell really nice. I love that perfume.”
She leant closer so I could really smell it. And at the same time I got
an eyeful of those wonderful breasts.
“Yeah, it’s not bad is it. Happy,
Clinique”
Then as she noticed where I was looking, with a twinkle in her eye, she
announced:
“And here’s something else for you to play with.
Your new
toy care of the company.”
She handed over a smart new Blackberry.
“Give me your phone and I’ll swap the Sim and set
it up for
you.”
I handed it over and she swayed out of the office. I rolled back my
tongue and started to do some work. A few minutes later she was back:
“Here you go. I’ve added my mobile and my home
number to
your phonebook. Just in case you wanted to take up my offer
sometime.”
I smiled. Decisions, decisions. Before I could say anything she grinned:
“Oh and by the way, just because it’s a Blackberry
doesn’t mean it counts towards your five a day.”
Still smirking, she turned to leave.
“Jackie! You free tonight? After work?”
Oh my God, did I really do that? Did I really ask her?
I felt my pulse start up like it was an F1 car bursting off the grid.
She turned, looked thoughtful, then grimaced:
“I’d really like to spend the evening with a
handsome,
charming and witty man, but I suppose you’ll do.”
I threw the Blackberry manual at her, and she left giggling like a
naughty schoolgirl.
The meeting was rowdy and chaotic. It’s great when you get a
bunch of bright people who are passionate about their jobs, all
interacting. Everyone had their new Blackberries and we spent half
lunchtime setting them up. During the course of the day, my mind kept
straying to six o’clock. Would Sandie and Simon end up in
some
hotel bedroom? And what about me? Where would I end up?
I was all over everywhere as Jackie and I left the building. She hugged
my arm and said how pleased she was I’d agreed to come out.
She
still smelled absolutely gorgeous, and she’d obviously
touched up
her lipstick and make up. Not that she needed it. We drove the short
distance to the pub in my car. I glanced at my watch – 5:55
– Sandie would probably be waiting for Simon. Waiting to fall
into her lover’s arms. Waiting for him to …
“Alan? So, what do you think?”
“Sorry, Jackie, was miles away – thinking about
that bloody
contract.”
She gave me a “Yeah, I really believe you” look.
Jackie is one of those people who is just brilliant at making you feel
at ease and open with her. Our sales guys spend a fortune on courses to
help them do what Jackie does instinctively. Don’t ask me how
but
I found myself not thinking of what was happening in the pub by the
river a few miles away. Maybe it was Jackie’s eyes, or her
smile,
or her laugh – or her cleavage, but I was actually enjoying
myself.
I finished my drink and was about to ask her if she wanted another when
she grabbed my hand:
“Come on, let’s go!”
“Where?”
She just tilted her head to one side, sighed and looked at me.
“Where? Not here.”
She put her arm round me as we walked to the car. My mind started
racing – picturing us together. I felt her hand move,
caressing
my torso. It felt so good. Different. Exciting. That word again
–
I think I was understanding what Sandie meant.
As we got to the car, Jackie stopped to face me. Wearing that silly
grin of hers, she looked at me and whispered:
“I’ve been waiting a long time to do
this…”
She closed her eyes and softly nibbled my lower lip with hers, and as I
opened my mouth to respond she pulled me in tighter. Then we eased into
a kiss that seemed bounce round my whole body. It felt like it lasted
hours, in fact it lasted until …
“Alan?”
At first I thought Sandie’s voice was in my conscience. Then
I
realised – I must have looked a picture of pure guilt
…
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Her voice, her eyes, her face – her entire being was a
statement
of complete and utter disbelief. At times like that there is no right
thing to say. I looked at her:
“Probably what you and Simon were doing ten minutes
ago….”
She started to say something, but no words came out. Her hand went to
her mouth. Her eyes were wide and staring at me like I had suddenly
grown an extra head. She started to slowly shake her head.
“How… how long have you known?”
“Friday.”
“And this, how long has this been going on?”
I looked at the pain in her eyes. I wanted to hold her and hurt her at
the same time. I made a weak smile.
“About half an hour.”
She dropped her hand; her expression complete confusion.
“I did it because I wanted to hurt you, like you‘d
hurt me.
And because I wanted to see if someone new, someone different really is
more exciting than the person you love.”
Sandie looked at her shoes, then back at me. She sighed a heavy,
resigned sigh:
“I think I can answer that. They aren’t.
That’s why I
told Simon tonight it was all over.”
I stared at her, speechless.
“I almost told you everything on Sunday, but it was such a
perfect day, and I couldn’t see the point. You
didn’t know
about Simon, and it would only hurt you. And I was never really
unfaithful.”
I think it was about this point I vaguely remember Jackie saying that
she thought she should go, and she quietly left us, telling us how
lucky we both were.
The next thing I knew we were in each other’s arms, babbling
“sorry” to each other. If the kiss with Jackie had
knocked
my socks off, the one with Sandie blew my shoes off too. Sandie has
always been the best kisser in the world.
I cradled her head in my hands and forced her to look me in the eye.
“I love you, you know. So, why’d you decide to
ditch the
good doctor?”
She looked at me, and touched my cheek with her hand.
“Because he’s not you. Oh it was flattering being
chased by
a good looking, bright guy. And it was fun snogging like a teenager
again – but after a while all I could think of was that his
kisses, his touches and everything else he did was … I
don’t know … just missing something.”
Before I could say anything, she hugged me tight and continued:
“And all of a sudden on Saturday night, it went from fun and
I
suppose a bit naughty fooling around in his car to … well, I
dunno, to a bit tacky really.”
I smiled. I had known Sandie for over twenty years and I knew exactly
what was behind it. She is as sexy as any woman I know, but deep down
inside she’s a prude at heart. Having her boobs felt up is
one
thing – having someone trying to take off your underwear in a
pub
car park – that’s tacky. I was so grateful Dr Simon
White
had no style!
“Anyway, how’d you know I was here?”
“Ask Dave, I rang him.”
Now I was really puzzled, I had no idea she knew Dave other than as
someone at work that I mentioned occasionally.
“Actually, I rang you – but I think in the
excitement of
playing with your new toys, you boys got them mixed up. He said he
thought you were coming here.”
So, the whole thing had started with a phone conversation, and ended
with one. If either conversation had been five minutes later
…
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©
Ken Orford, 2009
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