Chapter 15

As I'd promised, I took Vanessa to bed on Friday night and Jenny happily withdrew to the guest room. The lovemaking was slow and sensual, sealing the solid bond that now held us together.

"I can't tell you how much weight was lifted off my mind when you threw Donald out of the house. Would you really have gone to the press and informed his publisher?" she asked.

"Probably not, but he didn't know that. I couldn't put that poor woman in America through what you've been through, although I'm tempted to send her an email to let her know what sort of uncaring bastard he really is."

"It would serve him right," Vanessa spat.

"There's something we haven't spoken of in a while."

"There is?"

"Starting a family."

"I was wondering when you were going to bring that up," she sighed.

"How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know. I told you I want to keep my career on track but that wasn't the main reason."

"You have a backup excuse," I joked.

"Not an excuse I assure you. It's real, at least to me."

I waited for her to elucidate.

"Mum and Dad left me a legacy of hang-ups to deal with and I was scared stiff I'd pass them on to our children, and we'd end up with them being as neurotic as I was."

"That's the reason?"

"I couldn't admit it to myself, let alone you." She paused. "There's the glimmer of a headship on the horizon. Muriel Jeffries is due for retirement shortly and I've already started sending out feelers."

"That's great news."

"If I can make head in the next couple of years, maybe I can take a break after a year to have a baby."

I quickly did the maths. Three years plus maybe a year to conceive plus nine months would just put her on the wrong side of forty. Restricting us to just one child also seemed like a major sacrifice.

"Jenny spoke to me the other day. She'd also like to have children."

Vanessa thought over what I said. "With you?"

"With us, yes."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said I'd speak to you."

Vanessa stared up at the ceiling. "Is this something she really wants to do?"

"She feels it will give her status within the relationship. You and I are married whereas..."

"Yes. I see. I see where she's coming from. What are your feelings?"

"I want kids. Lots of them, but I don't want this to be an issue between us."

"I don't think it would be. I think it's a fantastic idea."

"You do?"

"Why wouldn't I? It solves everything neatly doesn't it?"

"I suppose it does. You wouldn't be upset if I granted her wish?"

"After what's happened lately, nothing you do would upset me."

As I kissed her, she reached down and fondled my cock. "Do you fancy it once more before we go to sleep?"

My hand descended her body and she parted her legs in readiness.

Jenny fussed with the neckline of Vanessa's dress, adjusting it to reveal just the appropriate amount of cleavage without appearing tawdry. She examined her stockings for any sign of laddering and then admired the elevated heel of her shoes that allowed her to stand almost eye to eye with me. Gold pendant earrings and a fine chain around her neck completed the look.

The dress was ridiculously expensive and gossamer thin, making it more or less mandatory to wear without a bra. Whilst Jenny would have struggled, Vanessa's more modest endowment allowed her to carry it off.

"The taxi's here," I advised.

Sir Paul lived in an exclusive suburb of Newbury, amazingly less than a mile from our old friend Donald Mellor, of whom we'd heard nothing since the last encounter.

'Smart casual' was written on the invitation; but Janice gave me warning that the director's wives unofficially competed against one another, necessitating a trip to a rather exclusive establishment that Vanessa had heard rumours of. In her outfit, Vanessa could have graced the cover of Vogue magazine and I told her so, resulting in an embarrassed smile. Jenny waved us off as the taxi commenced its twenty minute journey.

We chatted casually in the back, glad that the driver did not insist on forcing discussion about the weather, items in the news, or heaven forbid, football.

"You don't think it's too revealing?" she asked for the umpteenth time.

"It's beautiful. You're beautiful," I whispered. "You can't even see the panty line."

"That's because I'm not wearing any."

"WHAT!"

"Even my smallest thong left a ripple. Jenny said I should just go without as nobody would be any the wiser."

"Jesus," I whispered, my head spinning as I adjusted to the knowledge that my wife was attending my boss's intimate soirée sans knickers.

"Feel," she requested as she guided my fingers beneath the hem. I discovered not only her bare sex but also a large ring threaded through her clitoral hood.

I laughed, despite the deep anxiety I felt as the car pulled up in front of the house. After paying the driver, we walked up the gravel drive to the enormous house that Sir Paul shared with his wife and daughter.

"I should have worn a coat," Vanessa complained. "I'm fucking freezing."

I put my arm around her and rang the bell. Paul's wife Mary answered the door almost immediately.

"Come in, come in," she beckoned. "It's so cold out."

Vanessa's teeth were chattering.

Lights blazed in the large entrance hall and we followed Mary into a beautifully furnished lounge where Sir Paul, the other four directors, and their wives were already gathered.

"Peter, come and join us," Sir Paul insisted. "Hello Vanessa."

The man was dressed in full dinner jacket and bow tie. So much for 'smart casual' I thought, glad that I'd worn my best suit and a new silk tie. Vanessa smiled nervously, feeling very much on display.

"Paul, get them some drinks," Mary told him. "I'm just going to check on dinner."

"What can I get you? Vanessa?"

"A white wine please, Sir Paul."

"Paul," he corrected. "I hate this Sir Paul thing. So formal. We have a nice chilled Sancerre."

Vanessa flinched at the mention of the word, bringing back the fading memories of Donald. "That'll be fine, Paul."

"Peter? A brandy?"

"Wine will be fine for me also," I replied.

Steven Bull wandered over as our host fetched the drinks. "Glad you could both come. Vanessa, let me introduce you to the girls."

He quickly reeled off the names of the other wives and Vanessa tentatively stepped into their midst.

"That's a lovely dress," Steven's wife Olivia stated as her husband led me a short distance over to where the men gathered.

"It came from a shop in Farrington," Vanessa replied.

"Not 'Expressions' by any chance?"

"I think that's what it was called. Somebody at school recommended it."

"I've never been to it," another of the wives interjected enviously. "I heard it was terribly expensive."

"It was a bit more than I usually pay," Vanessa admitted tactfully.

I cringed. The dress cost six hundred pounds.

"It's so beautiful," Olivia gushed. "I told Steven that I needed a new dress and he just took me over to Marks and Spencer."

"You're lucky," the other woman chipped in. "I had to make do with Debenhams. You'd think they'd let us splash out just once a year."

Steven tapped my arm. "If we could just harness the power of a woman's idle chatter, the world's energy problems would be solved at a stroke," he jested.

Sir Paul returned and delivered the drinks, and then led the conversation. I listened to his plans for the company's future and then tuned in to my wife's conversation instead.

"How's your daughter?" Olivia asked Mary when she returned.

"Things are settling down now but it's been a real worry for us. It affected Paul the most. The doctor had to put him on some tablets to calm his nerves."

"Is she here?"

"She didn't want to eat with us but Paul insisted. She'll join us at the table."

"What do you think, Peter?" Sir Paul asked.

"What? Sorry I was miles away."

He repeated the gist of his question and I joined in until a man in a dark suit announced the start of dinner.

"Who's that?" I asked Steven.

"I don't know. One of the caterers I suppose."

We walked into the dining room and sat down in our assigned seats. I was sandwiched between Mary and Olivia and opposite Vanessa, whilst Sir Paul and Steven flanked my wife. An empty seat at the end of the table was obviously reserved for their errant daughter. After a few moments of mumbled conversation, the door opened and a rather heavily pregnant blonde-haired girl entered. I nearly choked on my wine as she carefully lowered herself into her seat. It was Stella.

"Hello everyone," she sighed breathlessly.

"You haven't met Peter and Vanessa," Sir Paul informed his daughter. "Are you all right, darling?"

Stella reacted in panic when she saw me but thankfully recovered her composure quickly.

"The baby just kicked. I'll be fine."

"When are you due?" Vanessa asked casually, not making the connection between Paul's daughter and the Stella that I'd told her about in London.

"Supposedly early December but it feels like it could pop out at any moment." She closed her eyes and blew gently through pursed lips.

"Poor thing," one of the wives whispered.

The first course arrived, a medley of cured meats and salad with a pureed beetroot dressing artistically drizzled over the plate.

"They've got Ellen McMillan to do the food again," Olivia whispered in my ear.

I gave her a dumb look.

"She was a quarter-finalist in Professional Masterchef three years ago," Olivia continued "Her food is out of this world."

For the first time, I noticed a small printed menu with each place setting. The five courses featured marinated wood pigeon, pancetta stuffed baby duckling with samphire, a soufflé accompanied by whiskey flavoured ice cream, and finally an assiette of cheeses served with sliced exotic fruit. I realised I probably wouldn't need to eat for a week after tonight.

We chatted amiably throughout the meal but my eyes flicked continuously between Stella and Vanessa. When she wasn't performing breathing exercises, Stella picked at her food and resorted to munching on a bowl full of chips, dipping them into the various sauces that accompanied each course.

As the wine infused her system, Vanessa chattered happily with Steven and Sir Paul. Fortunately, neither man could see the prominent lumps that her erect nipples created under the dress.

"I wish I was brave enough to wear that dress," Olivia confessed. "A few of the men are going to get their ears bent tonight after she's made such an effort."

"If only you knew it all," I thought.

The meal concluded and a small plump woman in a white smock appeared who everybody applauded. She accepted their praise and paused to answer a question from one of the wives about the food. As we moved back to the lounge, I barely caught sight of Stella escaping upstairs, her obligations fulfilled.

Several of the men buzzed around Vanessa like flies and she happily soaked up their admiration. In dire need of relief, I sought out the bathroom only to discover a queue had formed.

"There's another toilet upstairs if you're desperate," Steven told me.

The upstairs lavatory was thankfully unoccupied and I quickly made use of the facilities. I was about to return to the lounge when a light from the end of the corridor drew me like a magnet. Stella stood before her bedroom mirror, staring at her reflection. She sensed my presence and turned.

"Come in. Shut the door."

Guiltily, I complied.

"I nearly shit myself when I saw you. I never realised you worked for Dad."

"That makes two of us," I replied.

"Look at me," she sighed. "I'm like a fucking beached whale."

"You look incredible. You're absolutely blooming."

"A blooming nightmare."

She lifted up her dress, revealing her enormously swollen belly and naked breasts. Her navel protruded from the tightly stretched flesh whilst her breasts had grown to twice their normal size. The nipples were large and erect, moist from fluid that wept from them.

I approached to within a couple of feet. She seemed unconcerned as I feasted my eyes on her exposed body.

"It's got to be a boy," she stated. "A girl couldn't kick like this little devil. He's probably destined to be a footballer. Here, have a feel."

She grabbed my hand and placed it on her tummy but I failed to detect anything.

"There! Did you feel it?"

I shook my head, relishing the soft sensations that the contact provided.

"Your wife's pretty. You must be glad to have her back."

"Yes," I sighed, unable to prevent myself becoming erect as I stared at her bare breasts.

"What happened to Jenny?"

"She lives with us."

"That must be interesting."

"It has its moments."

"Do you fuck them both?"

I laughed at her impertinence. "I do."

"You'd better be careful or Jenny will take advantage of her."

"She already has. Vanessa loves it."

"Ooh, that's so wicked."

I forced myself to withdraw. "Where's Toby?" I asked sheepishly.

"I haven't seen anything of him recently. He and Dad didn't see eye to eye."

"He's the father of your baby."

"It's complicated. He wanted to help but Dad wouldn't let him. He just took over."

"Shit."

I made an excuse to leave. "If you want to chat, you can come over and see us. Jenny will be glad to see you."

Stella nodded and asked for my address which I hastily scribbled down onto a piece of paper.

Inebriated, Vanessa was laughing uproariously with the other wives whilst in the men's group, one of the directors was relating a golfing story.

"Do you play golf?" Steven asked.

I shook my head. The idea of spending hours traipsing around in deep grass searching for a small white ball never attracted me. Similarly, twenty two men kicking a bag of air up and down a muddy field for ninety minutes held just as little appeal. The only sports that held any interest to me were endurance sports such as athletics and cycling, in which the fitness of competitors was paramount. I looked forward with great anticipation to the upcoming Olympics and had reserved a seat on the sofa for the two weeks that it would be held. Vanessa enjoyed tennis, or rather she watched Wimbledon, as though it was the only significant fixture on the sporting calendar.