The morning did not start well. Kevin and Susan Greyson rose on a working day. It was a sunny morning and Kevin felt great. So far so good. How had it managed to go so steeply downhill from there? Well, he would later have to admit that he had nothing and nobody else to blame but himself – and her of course!
He always accepted that he had a stubborn streak, and when it bit, he could not help but dig his heels in. He was eating his muesli and drinking his coffee, and Susan was doing the same opposite him at the kitchen table.
She did not seem in the greatest of moods that morning. Her pretty face was creased in a frown. He didn’t ask why, not then anyway. Instead he thought to himself, over and over, Why does she seem so moody? What have I done now?
“Does today feel a little – different?” she eventually asked him in a tone he could only describe as threatening, as they finished the meal. It should have been a warning, but he missed it. After all he was hardly awake yet.
He shook his head. “No, not really. It’s a sunny morning, later rain is forecast, but that’s not new.” He always kept an eye on the weather; it was something of an obsession with him.
“So, nothing feels different or perhaps special today Kevin?” She emphasised ‘special’ so heavily he should have been alerted, but it was early in the morning. Some people are morning people; neither Susan nor Kevin belonged to that happy group.
Now he thought hard, really hard, because now he knew he’d forgotten something serious and he was in deep trouble. There was only one thing in the offing he could think of, and that was the annual office party, to which he knew she hated going. ”Oh yes, we have to go to my bloody office party tonight. Thank you for reminding me, darling.” He knew immediately that it was the wrong answer. Good try, but not good enough.
He leaned over to kiss her cheek. When he did, she stood up and glared down at him with that piercing blue-eyed glare that shot daggers, her normally kissable mouth turned down in a scowl. ”Your bloody office party? You’re joking right?” she almost screamed it. “Our wedding anniversary! You idiot! How in hell did you manage to forget our fifth, fifth, wedding anniversary?” All he could do was wince and stare at her. Her big blue eyes were giving him a death stare the like of which he had never seen before; it was almost pure hatred. They’d been together almost eight years and not once in those eight years had a look like that one ever come his way. It frightened him and struck him dumb, or he might have said something.
The thing was, it wasn’t their anniversary at all, though he glanced up at the calendar on the wall to make quite sure. Then he understood: she had made a simple error. It was not their wedding anniversary.
He remembered when they were soppy characters early on in their relationship, and for the first three years they always kept the date of the first time they made love as their anniversary until they married. Thereafter they kept their wedding date as the anniversary. Their wedding anniversary just happened to be five days after their ‘first-fuck’ anniversary, as they later inelegantly put it.
This day, indeed, was the ‘fucking’ anniversary, not the wedding one. Oh dear, he thought. Wrong fucking anniversary! He grinned to himself at his accurate though coarse adjective.
He was actually ready for their wedding anniversary. The necklace he had bought her at some considerable expense lay at the bottom of his sock drawer, along with the soppy card. He knew better from previous anniversaries than to buy a humorous card!
She saw his little grin and was appalled at his levity. She shook her head at him in disgust and before he could say anything, she marched out of the kitchen and stomped up the stairs, her auburn hair swaying over her shoulders. He heard the bedroom door slam. He got up, put the dishes in the sink and went upstairs to get dressed for work. The bedroom door was locked. He knocked.
“Darling, can you please let me in? I need to get dressed for work.”
He waited, then added, “And it isn’t our–” The door was flung open, and his clothes flew past him onto the floor. The door slammed shut again, and he heard the lock click.
At that moment his stubborn streak clicked in. No way would he deign to correct her. Let her find out for herself and then come crawling. Now he was angry as well. It was a very bad move, his obduracy, a serious mistake, but he did not know that at the time. Often we would all benefit from having hindsight before the event. He dressed on the landing, combed his hair in the living room mirror, and off to work he went.
Kevin worked in the administrative office of a large company. It was a nine-to-five job with no overtime, and that suited him fine; it paid well and carried responsibility for many other people’s pay, work assessment and conditions.
To look at, he was just an ordinary guy, not a hunk that girls would swoon over, but not bad looking either. He was not fat or even overweight. He kept fit but was not obsessive about it. He was six feet tall, and thus about the average height of the other men in the office.
There were some shorter, some taller, but everyone felt short when next to Simon, who stood at six feet six inches and was broad shouldered with big hands, and everyone knew what that meant! Simon was also obscenely handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes, and he knew it. Obviously he knew he had blond hair and blue eyes, but he also knew he was obscene. All the men were all clean shaven, professional staff. Most of them, including Simon were married or living with someone in a permanent relationship.
There were four men from Kevin’s department sitting together in the cafeteria that lunchtime. They were Lee, Alan, Peter and Kevin. They were chatting about the party that evening.
It was never a very exciting office party, just a lot of people standing round nibbling canapés and drinking, and if they were lucky, a DJ. who would actually play music they could dance to. The group were wondering out loud whether they could give it a miss, it was so boring, but if they were missed, life at work would become unpleasant. ”Why do they make us go through this charade every year? Why do we keep going?” Alan grumbled.
“You know why,” said Peter. “You want to keep your job. It’s supposed to be a bonding exercise.”
“I know why I turn up,” said Lee with a salacious grin. His morals were impeccable but his mind must have been among the filthiest on the planet.
“Go on,” said Peter with a resigned air, “Why?”
“To see Kevin’s wife of course. What’s she going to be wearing tonight, Kevin?” ”No idea, but obviously more than you want her to,” Kevin quipped. They all laughed, including Kevin, who felt he was most in need of cheering after that morning.
“Yeah come on Kevin, give us some details, does she have anything sexy picked out for tonight?” Lee persisted. Kevin shrugged.
“Whatever it is, it’ll give me a rise.” said a voice behind him. “What’s she going to be wearing for me tonight Kevin?” The comment was followed by a loud guffaw.
Simon, in addition to being so tall and good-looking was arrogant and the company Lothario, and it was rumoured that he had banged most of the women in the office at one time or another, though there was no evidence, and if the girls had ever been his lovers, they did not kiss (or worse) and tell.
Kevin did not like Simon at all. He was married to a very good natured and devastatingly pretty blonde called Dolores, but Simon was always hitting on other women. His wife’s name meant ‘sorrow’, Kevin thought, but she had nothing to be sorry about, apart from being married to Simon with his womanising ways.
Kevin gave him a cold hard stare. It had no effect.
Simon grinned at him, as if to say, “I could have your wife anytime I wanted,” and walked away chuckling. The group fell silent and gave him sympathetic looks.
Lunch over, they went back to the department. Kevin sat at his desk working through the rest of the day, but his thoughts ran on.
Simon! He seethed at Simon’s comment and the innuendo about Susan. His friends making a comment like that was one thing, but from Simon it was degrading and disgusting.
His reverie was disturbed by his mobile phone. The display told him he had a text. It was a message from his wife. He debated whether to pick it up. Although it said ‘picture message’, the only thing he thought it could be would be her giving him the two-fingered salute. He took a deep breath and opened the text. His heart raced, and his cock stirred.
“Like what I’m wearing tonight?” was the title of the message. This did not surprise him: it was usual for Susan to take it upon herself to ‘liven everything up’ by wearing something bordering on the sluttish! He assumed that she must have just bought the dress that day.
To see it on her made the picture highly erotic. It was a short, very short black dress. The spaghetti straps on the bodice made her cleavage very evident. That dress was absolutely hugging her curvy figure. He’d never seen such a tight dress on her before and as a result his erection was at full mast. He hoped he wouldn’t have to leave his desk in the near future. He was in mid-thought when the phone buzzed again, it was another message. This one was not nearly as friendly.
.... There is more of this story ...