I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. I'd also like to add that we don't always see eye to eye, so I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.
Another little tale that I dug out of the archives the other day. I think I remember I wrote this one after I actually had to work with a character remarkably similar to the villain in this tale. An obnoxious fat pig who thought he was the greatest coach driver and Romeo in the world. Funny that one because he had the strangest habit of disappearing in the red-light district of Amsterdam when we went there. Although there are some beautiful women working there, I'm afraid I call that desperation. This is a work of fiction and any similarity to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Clarification for our friends from the other side of the pond. The Publican, the person who holds the liquor Licence for a Public House or Bar in the UK, is often known as The Governor.
I think everyone knows that I'm coach driver and normally drive holiday tours all over Great Britain and Europe. A few years ago my wife and I took a two-month holiday in Australia, to visit with some of her relatives. When we returned Roy, one of the other drivers and Angela who works as a courier on the Coach Tours, related to me what had happened whilst I had been away.
Twenty odd hours on the road doesn't leave your head in the best condition to deal with the sudden end to your, as I thought, happy marriage! But that's what I was greeted with when we got back from that two week trip to Rome. A simple note on the kitchen table in Elaine's hand. "You cheating bastard. You have been screwing the couriers on your tours. So now I'm off to screw someone else! You will hear from my solicitor regarding the divorce when I get back!" 'What the fuck is she on?' I thought. You know, I had married my dream girl six years ago; being unfaithful had never crossed my mind.
Jesus, Dave, you know I would never screw around on Elaine! I loved her as much as you love Jean! Christ, there's always plenty of spare Totti on the bus! But only a fucking idiot would destroy a great marriage for the sake of a bit of spare pussy! Besides that, we've all seen what happens when a driver brings back the clap from a trip. I was happily married and wanted to stay that way. Now Elaine had left me because she thought I had been shagging the girls. I just couldn't think were she got that idea from? Christ, Elaine has been down the Plough with us on many occasions; she knows most of girls and their husbands. She knows that they are our friends. If I was going to cheat, why would she think I'd screw someone she knew!
I just didn't know what to make of it. I called Elaine's mobile, but it was turned off. I nearly called you, but I knew you and Jean were catching an early flight to Sydney. In the end I called her sister June in Telford. I thought that Elaine might be there. I couldn't think of anywhere else she would have gone. June answered the phone and the moment I said hello, June began to shout abuse down the phone at me. I never got a chance to say another word. June was calling me all names under the sun. According to June, I was every kind of lowlife I've ever heard of. According to June, I was the Don Juan of the Coach World. I had bedded every courier on the firm and probably most of our female passengers as well! Then she hung-up. If the note that Elaine had left hadn't already put me in shock, the tirade I got from June would have! I called back again, but all I got was "fuck off, Roy!" shouted at me.
I was convinced Elaine was there so I just kept on calling back. In the end, June's husband, Eric, answered the phone.
"Look, Roy, it's nearly one in the morning. You might be used to staying awake all night but some people go to bed to sleep! After the way you have behaved, there is no way June is going to talk to you so please let me get some sleep!"
Then Eric hung-up. He must have unplugged the phone because I got a number unobtainable tone when I tried to call again. I was convinced Elaine must be at June's place, so I decided that I would drive down there and talk to her. As I was going out the door, I realised that I hadn't had any sleep for thirty odd hours! If I tried to drive up to Telford now, I was likely to become an item on tomorrow morning's traffic reports. So I thought it better to get a few hours sleep first. I went up to the bedroom to lay down and got the biggest kick in the teeth I have ever had!
Our bed was covered in pieces of A4 paper. Pictures printed out from the computer. Pictures of my wife naked and having sex with another man. Sucking his cock. Getting fucked doggy style, missionary and riding the pony! All on this same bed. I tried to get to the bathroom but never made it. I threw up all down the hall. I just couldn't believe what I had seen! After I had turned my stomach inside out in the bathroom for awhile, I went back downstairs and poured myself a large shot of scotch.
Half a bottle later I was feeling a little better, and in the mood to kill someone so I went back to the pictures to see if I could figure out who the man was. If you're going to set yourself up for a life sentence, it's a good idea to kill the right man! When I looked at the pages again, I saw that amongst them was another note, typed this time. All it said was, "Anything you can do, I can do better! Now I'm with a real man! Someone that will care for me and not fuck every whore he sees behind my back!"
I studied the photographs closely. In almost every one, I could see that it was Elaine. But I couldn't make out who the man was. On the few that his face appeared in, it had been blurred out. I suddenly realised that the prints had most likely been done on my own fucking computer and I suspected they had been taken with my old camera! I booted up my Packard-Bell. Sure enough, the pictures were on the hard drive, and there were a lot more than had been printed. But the bastard wasn't daft. He had fogged his face on all of them. There was no way I could sleep in our desecrated bed, so I went down, grabbed my bottle of Scotch and went to sleep on the sofa.
Sunday morning I awoke with a hangover! Pissed off with the world, and still drunk from the Scotch that I had put myself to sleep with! I needed to have a go at someone! I needed to blame someone! The only person I could think of that I could get to was our boss, Charlie! "After all," my intoxicated brain thought. "if I hadn't been driving his fucking coaches all over Europe, I'd have been at home. Elaine would have known that I wasn't cheating on her and I'd have been there to stop that bastard fucking her. So the Boss was told to stick his fucking job up his bleeding arse, in no uncertain terms!
Now as everyone knows, Charlie is one of the best, you know he has always been a good boss. He's always been known for looking after his employee's welfare. Well, the earners amongst us anyway. He was obviously perplexed by my call, as I hadn't bothered to explain myself; I had just told him to stuff his job up his arse. Less than fifteen minutes later he was banging at my door. When I let him in, he could see that I was pissed! He asked me what my problem was, as he said he didn't want to lose one of his best drivers. I broke down and collapsed on the floor crying like a baby. He got me up and sat me on the sofa, then went into the kitchen to make some coffee.
While he was in there, he must have seen Elaine's note, because he called for reinforcements. Shortly after he came back with the coffee, his wife Mary arrived. Mary sat with her arms around me on the sofa and said all the right things to comfort me. Christ, that woman's good. Within ten minutes she had calmed me down and got the details of the night's events out of me. She asked if it was all right for Charlie to look at the pictures, to which I said yes.
Mary sent him upstairs to look at them and see whether he could recognise the man. Unfortunately he couldn't but he came down with one that I hadn't noticed. It was an A4 sheet with eight pictures on it. They apparently were of you and me having sex with some women I have never seen before. Charlie said they must have been faked. He thought that was why they weren't enlarged like the others.
I kept on saying that I was going to go to Telford, to Elaine's sisters, because I was sure Elaine was there. Charlie said he thought it doubtful that she was! But if I insisted on going to Telford, he was not going to permit me to drive, as I was well over the limit and I would probably finish up killing someone. He wouldn't be able to take me as he had to be available in case there were any problems with the coaches that were away. Mary said she would drive me; the boss called Carol, who works in the office, and talked her into coming along.
Shortly after, Carol arrived accompanied by her husband Randall. They said that Randall was coming to keep me from feeling outnumbered by women. But Randall's a big guy, and I reckon he was there to make sure I didn't do anything I would regret later. All four of us got in the boss's Mercedes and Randall drove us to Telford.
.... There is more of this story ...