It's a Man Thing
Chapter 7

Copyright© 2010 by Tedbiker

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 7 - He's asked for advice and gives it, and finds himself involved more deeply than he expected.

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

Monday morning dawned. At least, I suppose it did, as it was quite light when I woke. Helen and I were not entangled as we had been previously, but our fingers were entwined. I lay and watched her sleeping, a slight smile on her lovely face, hair tousled and scattered over the pillow. I reached and gently stroked her cheek, ran my finger round the rim of her neat ear; her smile broadened and she hummed in her throat. I looked at the clock – it was eight-thirty. I couldn't remember the last time I was still in bed at eight-thirty (discounting recent experiences, of course.) I slipped out of bed, grabbed some clothes and went, via the bathroom, downstairs.

I made coffee, heated milk and frothed it, and took a cup upstairs. She'd moved onto her back while I'd been gone, so I placed the cup on the bedside table and brushed her lips with mine.

"Wake up, princess,"

Her eyes opened and my heart turned a somersault as that smile lit up her face. She stretched, reminding me forcefully of a cat ... then she caught sight of the clock and her expression changed radically.

"My God! Is that the time? I'm late! I should have been at work fifteen minutes ago!

"So ring them, apologise, say you overslept and will be in as soon as you can. I'm willing to bet you haven't been late much, if at all, in the past. In fact, while I don't usually approve of dishonesty, you could ring in sick; say 'something's got into me and I don't think I'll be much good to you today'"

She snorted with amusement. "I don't think so!" But she took the cup when I handed it to her, and a few minutes later she came downstairs and accepted the toast I'd made.

Even though I'd lived on my own for several years, the house seemed terribly empty without her. To occupy the time, I fired up my computer to catch up on my emails. I was persuaded some years ago to set up several email accounts, one of which is just for putting on forms when I don't really trust the organisation, which means it gets a lot of spam and only occasionally something I want to keep. Then there's a hotmail account for friends, and the account I use for feedback on my writing. Like most, if not all, writers, I like hearing from my readers, especially when they've got something nice to say, but even criticism is welcome, because it helps me improve. That morning, there was nothing except spam and a note from my boss at the university – could I call in to see her? Having nothing better to do, I sent off a reply that I'd call in after lunch. That done, a load of washing in the machine and the washing-up out of the way, I was at a loose end again. I popped the laptop into my backpack and set off into town.

I don't usually just drift around, but somehow I couldn't seem to settle to anything. One thing, I did think of. It wasn't much help though. If Helen and I were going to marry in church, we had to first of all choose a church, then see the minister/vicar/whatever to make the arrangements. In our immediate area, we had two Anglican churches (my house was in St. Mark's parish, Helen's in St. Augustine's), two United Reformed Churches, a Methodist church and a plethora of independents. Spoilt for choice, you might say.

Sitting in the Winter Gardens, I noted down an idea and a few lines of dialogue for a new story, but then ran dry again. I shrugged mentally, packed up and crossed the road to the library. I'm afraid I rarely enter the library with a great deal of hope these days. Mostly if there's a book I think is worth reading I buy it (Often second hand from charity shops, I admit. Okay, I'm a cheapskate, but it's fun going through the shelves) On this occasion, I was happy to find a recent publication by Freya North. Yes, I admit it, I read romantic fiction as well as write it. Actually, I learn a lot from reading other people's work. That would keep me occupied for a bit, anyway.

With time to spare, I found a table in the library set aside for lap-top users and fired the machine up again. I managed to focus enough to get into my current project and actually wrote several pages that I was fairly happy with. Once I was immersed in my imaginary world, I forgot the passage of time, then I suddenly realised I was very hungry.

Late or not, I wasn't going to miss my dinner before calling in at Information Processing. As it turned out, that wasn't a problem, because as I was finishing my meal, my boss approached me.

"Ted," she said.

"Linda," I nodded in acknowledgement.

"I don't want to take you off somewhere and make this official, not yet anyway. Do you mind if we have a word here?"

I looked at her and shrugged. I had that feeling you get as school-child when you're summoned (or sent) to the head-master's office. Yep, even at sixty-five, you still get that sinking feeling when it's apparent you have, or may have done something wrong.

She didn't speak immediately, just looked at me. I met her gaze, and raised an eyebrow; I've found that to be quite an effective tool. Once in a case-conference a social worker asked me plaintively 'Ted, please don't raise your eyebrow at me like that!'

Then she said, "one of the admin staff who eats regularly in the cafeteria commented to me that one of my invigilators seemed to be spending quite a lot of time in the company of one of the students."

"I hope," I paused, and tried to swallow my anger before continuing as evenly as I could, "that there's no suggestion of impropriety."

"There doesn't need to be, Ted. You're one of my more reliable and experienced people, and I trust you, but we have to be very careful that there is no possibility of personal involvement, that any invigilator could possibly permit a student any advantage."

I nodded. "As it happens, Linda, I just got engaged to the mother of one of the students. I've known her for a few months, and I Invigilated her daughter once, in a one-to-one in the May exams, just before I met her mother. I was going to mention it to you, but this is a fairly recent matter. I've sat with Philippa a few times for meals when I've been here, but I'm amazed that anyone would have bothered to comment, or even notice."

"Hmm. And her name? The student, that is?"

"Philippa Abbott. She's dyslexic - on a learning contract. I can assure you that I've never overlooked any cheating. You know how difficult it'd be for a one-to-one student to cheat anyway. And, if there is any issue, I'm willing to stop invigilating. You know I don't really need the money and do it more for occupation than anything else."

(Perhaps I should interject here, that students who need extra help for any reason negotiate a 'learning contract', which specifies what they are entitled to – it might be extra time, or a large-print exam paper, time to exercise if they have an injury, and so on)

She nodded. "I hope it doesn't come to that; you're too useful to me to lose cheerfully. Be careful, though, okay?"

I shrugged, then grinned. "Perhaps you'd like to come to the wedding."

She looked at me speculatively and smiled. "Let me know the date – drop me an email – and I'd like to if I can." She paused for a moment. "In the meantime, are you in a hurry?"

"Hardly," I said, "though I'd like to be home for five."

"Well, if you're interested, there's a phase test in an hour – three-thirty to four-thirty. I'd be glad if you'd look after it – Sara's the other invigilator – so I can get on elsewhere; I might get home on time tonight that way. Come down to Information Processing with me and I'll get you the materials. It's online, so there isn't much anyway."

So I found myself in a computer lab, setting out attendance slips and putting up warning posters (Quiet please! Exam in progress, plus various others about regulations, mobile phones and so on ... which have to be there even though they're usually ignored by both candidates and passers by). Sara turned up; we'd worked together before, so we spent twenty minutes 'catching up' before the first students arrived.

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.