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Chapter 3

Copyright© 2017 by Always Raining

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3 - John Colshaw's wife suddenly divorces him, telling him he knows what he's done, but he doesn't, and his attempts to find out meet with rejection and even violence. Getting a job transfer proves advantageous, but this interferes with his quest for justice. Will discovering the truth make his life OK again? Not sure whether this story contains little sex, or some sex. Somewhere between?

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Slow  

January

So there was John, sitting in his old local with his cousin Vicky. They had driven up separately in his car and her rented one, both filled to the gunwales with his personal possessions. Having lived in the company furnished flat the whole time, there was no furniture as such, but many of the extras one acquires over time.

They had got the central heating going, since the flat was icy cold and smelled musty, for it was January and the flat had not been used recently. They arranged his things to his taste and then they had repaired, tired but satisfied to the Griffin, while the flat warmed up.

They chatted, enjoying the warmth and the drinks, until John stopped and stiffened. Vicky sensed it as she returned to her seat with a new round.

“What is it honey?” she asked.

“Carol,” he stated, watching his ex-wife walk into the pub with a man, a man he knew. Liam Malley worked at his company and they had been colleagues those years ago. John knew Liam was still working there, having done his homework on the division. Liam had neither the ambition, ability or drive to progress in the firm, though he was more than adequate at what he did.

He watched as the pair chatted animatedly, standing at the bar ordering their drinks. Then they turned, and saw John.

They stopped, and it was obvious that if he had not been staring at them, they would have found another area of the pub, indeed Liam looked most uncomfortable and tugged at Carol’s sleeve to pull her away, but she was already moving toward John.

He saw afresh how pretty his ex-wife was. Her shoulder length auburn hair, her piercing blue eyes, delicate features, perfectly proportioned body and long wonderfully shaped legs.

He remembered how lucky he had always thought he was. The memory of their affection, her sudden gratuitous hugs, her smouldering kisses and their passionate love-making, it all flashed before him in a second as he felt all the resentment that she had ended it without giving him a chance. He felt a cold disgust for the woman.

“Hello John,” she said flatly. Those wonderful eyes looked coldly at him.

“Hello, Carol,” said John, conveying, he hoped, distain by his tone. “Vicky, this is my ex-wife Carol, and Liam Malley.”

They made the necessary noises. Carol remained standing, and John did not invite her to sit down. He waited, his face neutral. At that moment he just wanted her to go away.

“How’ve you been John?” she asked at length, without, he thought, much interest in the answer.

“You mean now, or after you divorced me giving me no reason for what you did?” he said with a touch of aggression.

“John,” she tried to placate him, “It’s water under the bridge now. Can’t you let it go?”

“Not really,” John replied, relaxing against the bench seat. “I have nothing to let go of. If I knew why you did it, then perhaps I could begin to let it go. You wouldn’t talk to me, or even tell me what I’d done, so I’m in a sort of limbo about that.”

“You know perfectly well why,” she said patiently.

“No, I don’t,” John said, his impatience rising, and it showed. “I am not aware I had done anything to bring that on. I certainly never cheated on you as someone told me I had.”

“You cheated. You did. You admitted it – you accepted the divorce.”

“You know as well as I do,” said John becoming exasperated, “that it is suicide to contest a divorce that a partner wants in this country. In any case I didn’t want your brothers beating me up again.”

She had the grace to look guilty for a brief moment.

“They didn’t do it,” she said. “They were at our party.”

“Oh don’t be so stupid,” he snapped, angry now. “I can recognise your brothers when they are beating me up! What your delinquent family and you say to the police and what really happened are two totally different things. Those two nearly killed me. I know who did it. I was there.

“If you’re still living in that weird universe of yours, Carol, I’m not surprised you believe I cheated on you. I assume you made up the story so you could shack up with Liam here. You could have told me if you just wanted out. I’d have given you a divorce without all the violence.

“So why don’t you just leave me alone Carol? As you say it’s water you polluted, under the bridge. You lied; your family lied.

“I know you are lying about my so called cheating because otherwise you would have given me what evidence you had. You couldn’t do that, could you? Because there isn’t any evidence. So to escape from our marriage you lied your way to a divorce. You got what you wanted: we’re divorced. Good bye, Carol. You sicken me.”

John was adept at reading faces. As he delivered his swingeing monologue, he watched the faces. Puzzlement on Carol’s face; she seemed not to understand why after all this time he had not admitted his cheating, then resentment and what seemed to be frustration.

Liam by contrast looked worried and uncomfortable. It couldn’t be that he knew John was now his boss, because it had not been announced. So what did he know? That would bear investigation.

“If that’s your attitude,” Carol snapped. “There’s nothing more to be said. Goodbye, John.”

“Give me evidence!” John shouted after her. “I need closure.”

Vicky and John walked back to the flat. She was as puzzled as he was. They got a takeaway delivered and were eating it when his mobile rang. It was Carol.

“Yes Carol?” said John.

“I’m glad you kept your number,” she said sharply. “You want to know what I know about your cheating? It was at that company conference in London. You fucked some tramp there. I have evidence – photographs.

OK, John? OK? Try wriggling your way out of that!” and she disconnected.

John bridled. She knew he hated ‘OK’, and she had used it deliberately as an insult, indeed she stressed it. She clearly hated him, but now he had something to go on. He would get some recompense for her behaviour and her attitude to him.

He sat back in his chair, his meal forgotten. It would be three, no four years ago. The firm’s annual conference. He racked his brains. Then it became clear. He now thought he knew what it might be. He remembered some details of the particular evening that now stood out with clear relief in his memory. It was certainly an eventful evening.

Why hadn’t he thought of that when Carol accused him? Then he realised that at the time he didn’t know what he was supposed to have done, nor even what place or year the offence was supposed to have taken place.

He decided he needed to make a few calls the next day, forgetting it would be Saturday.

He discussed the matter with Vicky, and she agreed he needed absolute proof, but then asked what he would do with the proof.

“I want her to know I was faithful to her all along. I want her to feel sorry that she threw away our marriage, that she wouldn’t let me know what I was accused of. I want to see her face when she realises what she’s done. Enough?”

“Enough!” she agreed with a sympathetic smile. “And if, full of remorse, she wants to come back to you?”

That stumped him. “I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t think she will. You saw her engagement ring? I think she’s engaged to Liam. I really don’t know.”

“Then you’d better think about it, hadn’t you? Be prepared?”

He thought about it. He thought about that short meeting with her. It was something he’d said that had aggravated her. He had said she’d made it all up so that she could get together with Liam. Could that still be the case?

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Why else would she and her brothers be so keen on keeping him away from her, even to beating him up? Either way he was going to prove her accusation wrong.

Next morning, he was up early. There was a great deal to do, sorting out his laptop and logging into the flat’s broadband connection, thoughtfully provided by his outgoing predecessor. At eleven he made coffee as Vicky came to life and was heard moving around her bedroom.

Then he phoned Tom Forstone. Tom was now Sales and Marketing Manager for the North, the same level as John when John was Research and Development Manager, but back at the beginning when they joined the company at the same time they were at the lowest level, doing the research and de-bugging programmes. They used to joke about being ‘de buggers’ of ‘de company’.

“Hiya John! Y’a’righ’?” Tom’s Mancunian greeting showed his obvious delight. “What’re you doing up here – head office sent you spying on us?” he laughed. “I heard you’ve been everywhere else but here!”

“Tom?” he asked, “I’m at the company’s flat. Any chance of you coming over sometime today?”

“Important is it?” Tom asked. “Ann won’t be pleased, work on a weekend – until she hears it’s you. Can she come as well?”

“Yeah, and bring the kids,” John said. “This isn’t about the firm, it’s personal.”

Vicky and Ann took the children to the park. Ann said it was a warm morning – for January, the wind being from the south and the children being well wrapped up and needing a run. Vicky volunteered to go as well. Ann had hugged John tightly, so pleased was she to see him. She looked with admiration at Vicky and gave a knowing wink to John, who hastened to explain she was his Canadian cousin. Ann was clearly disappointed, being romantic at heart.

John sat down with Tom.

“Well?” inquired Tom. “What’s this about? You haven’t been up here for over three years.”

“First, Tom,” John began, “if I tell you why I’m here, can I count on you not to divulge the information to anyone until after Monday?”

“Ann?”

“You can tell Ann. No secrets between husband and wife.” A meaningful glance passed between them: Tom was well aware of Carol’s actions and her refusal to tell John why she was divorcing him.

“OK, spill.”

He saw John shudder, and looked apologetic, though he could not resist a half smile. John saw and smiled back.

“I’m taking over from Georgina Valilee on Monday. I’m Managing Director for the North division.”

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Tom. “You have come a long way!”

“Right place at the right time – the move to London helped, even though that wasn’t why I moved.”

“Oh, yes. Carol. I still don’t understand how she could think you were cheating on her. You know she’s taken up with Liam – that they’re engaged? Any idea how she got the idea you were cheating?”

“You know she wouldn’t talk to me at all back then. That was the galling thing about it. When the Irwins beat me up, I thought it better to get out, hence London, but at last she’s given me a clue. Some photo’s apparently. We met by accident in the Griffin last night; she was with Liam then. He looked uncomfortable!”

“Nothing like as uncomfortable as he’ll be on Monday!” laughed Tom. “He won’t like you in charge, he really resented your promotions while you were here.”

“See much of him?”

“Nah!” replied Tom. “He doesn’t have much to do with anyone from the firm. Goes around with Carol’s crowd. Of course he’s always been close with the Irwin brothers, and Carol by association. Great mates they are.”

“Anyway,” added John, “we got into an argument and as she stomped off I called after her that I need to see her evidence. Later she phoned my mobile and said it was at an annual conference. Can you believe that was the first time she’s given me any hint about my ‘cheating’?”

“I take it I’m involved?” said Tom, and John realised why he was so prized by the firm. He was perceptive and quick with it.

“I need to go back over the conference four years ago in London, since that’s when it’s supposed to have happened – with photographs apparently!”

“I don’t remember you being naughty there. So you think you know what happened?”

“Yes. I want Carol to know as well, but she won’t believe me. So I’m going to ask everyone I know who was there to give me their story. You’re the first. You mind if I record it?”

“No, go ahead.”

John started the recorder.

“But it’s four years John,” Tom said, full of uncertainty. “I can’t remember everything about that conference; there’ve been three others since.”

“Well it can’t have been the first day,” John offered. “We all worked until quite late, and I went home to my brother’s afterwards. It has to be the last night when we had the party.”

“Let’s see,” Tom said thoughtfully. He sat in silence.

Then “Liam wasn’t at last year’s was he – or two years ago?”

“No,” John said, “They stopped the last day parties four years ago, didn’t they?”

“Right,” Tom said decisively. “Now I remember the party. I asked about Liam because he and I bunked together that year since you were at your brother’s, so it has to be that conference.

“You and me, we started off at the bar – that was after the dinner, wasn’t it – I remember, I was deputed to take photo’s for the company mag. They can’t have been my photo’s, they were all clean!

“I remember the CEO, Maurice Callaghan, came over almost as soon as we entered and asked you for a word, I think it was some improvement you’d made to something. You went to his table and sat down. I don’t think you got away all night, until...

“Anyway, I began wandering about taking pictures and Liam joined quite a rowdy group from London. I seem to remember he didn’t come to the room the night before and told me he’d ‘scored’ with one of the women that night.

Anyway, didn’t he pick up another girl from the London office – blonde, foreign looking, more central European than Nordic I remember? They danced and he was plying her with drinks – he was with her group and they were all getting plastered. Quite rowdy, lots of loud laughter. You were still at the CEO’s table.

“I was at a loose end so I ended up with Georgina Valilee at a table. Then I took my camera up to my room. Yes, I remember on my way back I met Liam coming the other way along the corridor. He asked if I’d finished taking the pictures and said he was going to take some of his own of that gorgeous blonde.”

“So I was at the CEO’s table all the time?” John asked.

“As far as I know,” he answered. “You were certainly still there when I got back. Liam got back soon after. The girl he was after was dancing with one of the other lads – and it was really dirty dancing. I couldn’t forget that dress – so short! She was flashing her knickers all the time. Liam was taking pictures.

“Georgina was not impressed. Those lads kept buying the girl drinks – Liam and the new friends he’d made from central office.

“Oh, yes, as she was dancing, the girl started to strip, and Liam went over to the CEO’s table, and there was some talk. Then you shook your head and got up. Georgina told me to stay there and joined you and together you ‘dissuaded’ the girl from stripping any further, and got her dressed again.

“I remember it caused quite a laugh because she draped herself all over you. She was absolutely bladdered! Georgina said something to you and you held the girl up and walked her to the door. That’s the last I saw of you.

“Georgina said the girl had a room at the hotel that she was sharing with a friend, and then Georgina went off to find the friend. I looked round for Liam – I was ready for bed and needed to check he hadn’t got another girl to take to bed, but he wasn’t there.

“Then he came back. He said he’d been to the loo. We had a last drink and went up to bed.”

“Liam the worse for wear after all the drinking with that group?”

“No, strangely, he seemed quite sober – by comparison, you understand. Lucid, walked straight. In fact we chatted about photography for a while before getting into our beds.”

“Thanks Tom,” John said, “that tallies with what I remember. Actually it wasn’t just Maurice but the other people at the table who got me into conversation. I wasn’t grumbling, mind you, I was glad I was out of the way of the dancing, until Maurice asked me to intervene with the girl.”

He switched the recorder off.

“So you reckon Liam’s at the bottom of this?” asked Tom. “He was taking photos of the girl, and you did put her to bed. Could be misunderstood.”

“I’m beginning to think so,” John said. “I had a hell of a time with her, she puked all over me and herself. I don’t know what she’d been drinking, but it was rank! I had to undress her. If Liam followed me and took photos...”

“Well, he did disappear at the same time. Said he went to the loo, but he could have gone anywhere. You didn’t see him?”

“No.”

Tom thought for a moment. “But Liam couldn’t have planned anything, it all depended on Callaghan inviting you to his table, and Liam couldn’t have known that was going to happen. Let’s face it, you didn’t know it was going to happen!”

“Hmm, you’re right.”

“He had his camera when you were taking her away, that I know,” said Tom, “but he couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”

“Perhaps he didn’t plan it, just took the opportunity when it presented itself.”

They left it there and at that moment Ann, Viccy and the children returned.

Vicky and John had a good time with Ann, Tom and the kids before they left mid-afternoon.

John slept in on Sunday morning. Vicky had gone for a run as she did most Sunday mornings, when the phone rang. It was Georgina Valilee.

“Hi, Gina,” he croaked.

“You still in bed?” she crowed. “The day’s nearly over! Are you coming over to see me today? Ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied.

“Come for lunch,” she said.

“My cousin is here, so if you don’t mind–”

“Bring her along. Tell her to bring a book or something.”

That was Georgina, thought John. Born organiser, ultra decisive.

Vicky cried off, deciding to go shopping in Manchester instead.

Gina and John got through all the preparation work; most had already been done by phone and email days before.

When it was all over, he broached the subject of the conference, started the tape, and Georgina made her contribution. she remembered the drunken girl was called Danuta.

She asked why he was so intent on doing it and he reminded her of the divorce and the events leading to it. He wanted justice. She nodded.

“You always had a thing for justice,” she said. “Good luck!”

They hugged and John left.

Two down. He had begun to gather his evidence. When he got back he played the tapes.

There was one odd thing. Liam spent the evening getting the girl plastered out of her mind, egged on by one of his new London mates. Perhaps it was the friend who wanted to get into her knickers when she was suitably pissed.

But after all that effort, why come to the boss’s table and ask for help from Maurice of all people? Maurice understandably and predictably had given the job to John.

Why couldn’t Liam do it? John couldn’t recall what Liam said to Maurice, something about her not trusting the group she was with? Then it came to him. The whole thing was a setup. He got the girl drunk then got John via Maurice to take her to her bedroom.

Then he came back to Tom’s comment that Liam could not have known in advance that that particular scenario would happen.

He thought again. True, Liam couldn’t have known John would be with Maurice all evening, so it had to be a spur of the moment idea. Did he know the girl had a room at the hotel? Then John remembered that the company insisted everyone stayed over for their own protection since they didn’t want anyone done for drink-driving.

There was more to do. He had to find Danuta, her friend, and Ian Sinclair, whose names Georgina had given him, and get their stories. That would have to wait; he had a business to run, and a lot of settling in to do.

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