Chapter 8

I chuckled, “Good point. The full name has the vibes that you need for a new venture. If you fix on that, it has my backing, Phyllis my dear.”

That gained me a passionate kiss, so I had no objections at all. I got home late as I had to finish a drafting task for my father-in-law. That man is a slave-driver at times, but he says it is so he can get me to appreciate the pressures that solicitors sometimes have to put up with. He still imagines that I can be persuaded to take up his profession, but I am far too busy to do that. I have to admire his persistence though.

When I walked in the doorway, I found that all my ladies were already sitting down at the dinner table, pointedly waiting for me. Ah, well; that’s life. I hung up my warm coat and jacket on hooks on the back of the door and wandered through to join them.

“Any space for a little one?” I joked, before apologising for my lateness. I got stared at silently, indicating a need for apology so it was up to me to say something in that line.

“A certain lawyer would not let me finish until I had completed a job for him,” I explained. This got nods of understanding, and I was clear again; I think ... Georgie got up and prepared me a plate for my own dinner. “Steak pie from the local butcher, my love. It is very good, lots of meat in it, so tuck in and enjoy.”

I noticed the lack of Sandy, so remarked on this omission. Janet filled me in, “She was in Glasgow today, for a preliminary hearing by the High Court of Justiciary. She wanted to hear what exactly was being stated about Jenny’s father.”

“Glasgow? I thought it was scheduled for Edinburgh?” I quibbled.

“That is true, but apparently it has occasional sittings in the larger towns and burghs around Scotland: peripatetic, it is called. Sandy’s father keeps her abreast of the proceedings, and lets her act on his behalf, as a legal reporter for his business.”

I sat down, chastened, for I ought to have known that from my experience in the law office. Dinner was long over before she appeared at the front door. I hurried to welcome her home apologetically, and after a welcoming kiss, she asked for a small rum and cola. I was startled. “Don’t you have to leave off alcohol when you are expecting, my darling?”

“As a general practice, yes, but the odd drink here and there makes little difference, I am told. Get me my rum and cola, Bob. I need to relax; it’s been a long day.”

I did that for her and made sure she got the most comfortable armchair to subside into. She sighed as she did so, and took a sip of her drink. I waited while she swallowed, and noticed that Georgie had joined us to hear everything.

“Well, Sandy?” Georgie demanded. “What did you find?”

“They were looking at the charges against the defendant, and deciding when to start the actual court action. Because it looks to be a fairly open-and-shut case, they allocated an early date for opening statements: next month, the fifteenth.”

“Do we tell Patricia, or is she already notified?” I asked.

“She was present with her advocate, so she got the details as it was announced. She looked tired, but that is not surprising for a woman in her position. Even with the appalling circumstances, she had been married to him for many years, and all the new shocks take it out of you when you discover what he was really like, against what it seemed. I told her that if she was worried at all, to come to our door and we would do what we could for her.” She looked into my face as she said this.

I nodded to indicate my approval, and each of the girls did much the same, or words to that effect. They had genuine sympathy, based on on their own past experiences. There was a knock on the door near midnight, and as is the best tactic at that time of night, I was the one who got up to answer it. I wrapped my dressing gown around me, fastened the soft belt wrap, and opened the door to the vestibule, allowing me to see who was outside the external door through its glass panels.

It was Jenny and her mother, both looking apprehensive, so without a word I at once opened the front door and ushered them in. Then as I took them inside the house, I was about to start my questions with Jenny, but she got in first, and explained their presence.

“Mum was having panic attacks, and I didn’t know what to do. She finally said that Sandy had said you were available to help, any time, so I got her ready and here we are. Apologies for the lateness. Can you help at all?”

I nodded and said, “We need to have a quick discussion with the girls, and decide if we need a doctor at once, or some other choice.”

With all the talking noise at the front door at this late hour, most of the ladies were now on their feet and wanting to know what was going on. Sandy as usual took charge of the invasion.

“Patricia, my dear, what is the problem? Something we can deal with?”

A frightened-looking Mrs Smart now clung to Sandy, saying, “I get so scared, Sandy. I keep imagining George will walk though the door and attack me or Jenny. I know it is silly, as he is in prison, but he might escape and come at us. Such worries doesn’t help the panic attacks! I keep shivering in fear, and don’t know what to do at all.”

“Hmm ... it is a bit late at night for professional help. You can’t get hold of a GP [general practitioner: doctor] of an evening, and the hospital A & E department is not geared up for panic attacks. All we can do is give you comfort and reassurance.”

I looked towards Jenny for confirmation and she nodded. “I think that is best for her, Bob. She needs a cuddle, stay away from home tonight, and be sheltered from her irrational fears.”

Sandy made a decision. “Right. Let’s get you to bed, Patricia; warm and comfortable. How does that sound?”

“I don’t want to be left alone!” Patricia burst out. “I want someone to hold me tight and protect me!”

Sandy thought for a moment, then glanced at me then at Georgie. They nodded to each other without words, and both exclaimed: “Bob!”

I was startled at my name being spoken like an incantation, and asked, “What?”

Georgie elucidated, “She needs a cuddle and to feel protected, Bob. That means you, the protector-in-chief!”

“Oh,” was all I could say, then it struck me: I would be taking Jenny’s mother into my bed and holding her close. I took a quick look at Jenny to see her expression. The unspoken point of closeness had not yet sunk in, as I could see she was nodding furiously, glad to have any help for her mother.

Sandy declared, “Right. Carol, Janet, back to your own rooms for now. Georgie, take Patricia to Bob’s room, and get her ready for bed. Bob, I need you to come with me to the kitchen for a quick cuppa. Jenny can join us, to get something warm inside her as well.”

Puzzled at this instruction, I did as I was told, and took the mystified Jenny by the hand through to the kitchen. “Put the kettle on, Jenny, while I get the mugs for our tea,” I told her.

Saying nothing, she did so, and I realised she too was a little over-wrought by all the action tonight. I pulled her to me and gave her a light kiss to remind her she was with friends. She responded with a tight clinch and a much stronger kiss in return, then went to fill the kettle and switch it on. I pulled out three mugs from the cupboard and sat them on the kitchen table.

Sandy joined us, having briefed the others and sent them back to their beds. Thank God none of the kids woke up.

“Ah, I could do with a cuppa!” Sandy exclaimed. “Thanks, Jenny. You did the right thing for your mother. How old is she, by the way?” It seemed an odd question to ask, but what do I know?

“Eh? Oh, she had me at twenty, so she is coming up forty-two, I suppose.”

“Menopause time, then? That can affect a woman’s emotions.”

“Menopause? I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Not to worry. It was just a thought. You heard what I said back there? Your mother needs a cuddle from a protective man?”

“Yes, I heard you. Bob will give her a cuddle and show her she is fully protected from Daddy.” She then paused as a light slowly dawned in her eyes.

“Oh! She will be in bed with Bob? I hadn’t realised at first. Is that all right, Sandy? In bed together, Mum and Bob?”

“Jenny, think! It was I who suggested it, girl. It is the practical solution for your mother’s problem, for the moment. Bob needs to stay with her, giving her comfort, whatever, until she falls asleep, and be there for her whenever she happens to wake and need reassurance, so he will be with her all night. Get the idea?”

“Uhh, yes. But then, so Mum gets to be in bed with Bob before me?”

Sandy remonstrated with an exaggerated frown, “Sorry? Did you want to get in bed with Bob, Jenny? You have shown no sign of it to date.”

“Oh. I did say that, didn’t I, without thinking first? I believe I want to, but Bob never suggested it, so I didn’t say anything.”

“Of course Bob never suggested taking you to bed! He is a good man, but with him already getting all the sex he might want, why should he think of suggesting sex with you? He won’t make any move like that unless and until you ask him, and even then he will want to clear it with me first. Bob has had far more sex in his life than your father ever got through his criminal activities. Trust me on that.”

Jenny thought quickly and said, ““Does that mean he will not have sex with my mother? She is safe from him?”

“I have no idea, Jenny, but safe? Of course! She is as safe as she wants to be, that is certain. Whether he will do more or not is entirely up to your mother and her own needs, not his, my, or your decision. You have no prior claim on him, have you?”

“I suppose not, no, for I have done nothing more than kisses and cuddles with him. But why would Mum decide to have sex with him, anyway? My mother is much older then him. He is only about my age, young enough to be her son.”

“And what has age of anyone got to do with it? Us wives were aged from mid-teens to mid-twenties when he first had sex with us, and he never batted an eye-lid about what age we were, as long as we were of legal age for loving sex. All he was concerned about was making us happy, and he achieved that in spades, as you can tell by the number of our children.”

“So ... what happens if?...” Jenny tailed off, lost for words, but she looked worried.

“So leave it to your mother, Jenny. If you later decide to become much closer to Bob, and end up having sex, that is between you two and has nothing whatever to do with what your mother does or does not do tonight. You want what is best for your Mum, don’t you?”

“Umm ... I suppose you are right, Sandy. You are not concerned about Mum or me having sex with Bob? He is your husband, after all. I would nave thought...”

“Your Mum is a special case, in her need for anxiety therapy which can take many forms, but if you wanted to have sex with Bob, Jenny, it would have to be on a permanent basis, not a one-night stand. For Bob, sex is a commitment to another person, AND he doesn’t like condoms, so you might end up pregnant if you chose sex, as I presume you have no protection of your own organised. He is good at getting his women pregnant, as you will notice.”

“Ah, yes; you all have children, I know.”

“It was entirely by choice as well, Jenny. Each of us wanted to have Bob’s children, and that was that. If you feel strongly about Bob, just as we did, you should consider the probability of that same end-state. Commitment works both ways, girl; think about it.”

Sandy allowed Jenny to think this through, and I excused myself to go get ready for bed and giving comfort to Patricia. I was deliberately thinking of her as Patricia and not Mrs Smart, as that marital designation might be off-putting for me. By the time I was stripped, face and hands washed, and in my pyjamas, I found that Patricia was in my bed, lying on her side, and shivering. It was a sign of tension and residual fear as the room was encouragingly warm.

I got in on the other side, which was where her back was. I sidled closer but without touching, just sufficient presence on the mattress to let her know that I was there. I didn’t know what she was wearing, if anything. I also wanted to let my hands warm up before daring to touch her anywhere, assuming that she might actually want to be touched or stroked or otherwise comforted. She might just want to be hugged.

After a little while, I thought I was warm enough to be able to hold her to me. I first laid a hand on her hip, checking that we were around the same temperature, then just holding her with the one hand until she got used to me doing so. She was naked in that part of her body, I discovered, or I supposed that this indicated she was fully unclothed. Who knew?

She revealed that she was not asleep by whispering, “Bob? Can you hold me tight? I need holding for a bit. I am still scared; I don’t know why, and I don’t know why I am shivering.” In response, I moved closer and slid my hand round until I was holding her stomach. My other arm was squashed between us, but not uncomfortably. She grabbed my tentative hand, and slowly pulled it up until it encountered her left breast, and then tugged my hand against it. She wanted me to hold her breast as a comforting move, I recognised, having had to do this occasionally with a few of my wives at an early stage, or sometimes when pregnant. I acquiesced in this and we settled down. I noticed an improvement; she had almost ceased shivering, and that was a good sign. I fell asleep like this, satisfied that I was doing the right thing for her, with no pressure on her to do anything. She probably did so also, as I was not disturbed thereafter.

At some point in the darkness I was half-woken when Patricia turned over and pushed her breasts against me. I had no idea if she was still asleep, or if she assumed I was asleep, so I simply accepted it and lay still, trying to get back to sleep. I drifted off this way.

Then I woke again, this time with her whispering to me as she ran a hand over my penis, “Bob? Are you awake?” My movement as my penis swelled with the contact must have told her that, as she continued, “Can I get you to make love to me, to show that I am still desirable as a woman? I need to know.”

Not saying a word, I removed my pyjamas and moved them to the edge of the bed. After that, I moved her over on to her back, and climbed on top, the old-fashioned missionary position for sex. She spread her legs and guided my now hard member into her already moist vagina. It was an easy entry, and she encouraged my actions. In what seemed like moments we were rutting; certainly she was participating with enthusiasm, seeking an early orgasm. This was comfort sex, not lovemaking, but we both recognised this. I moved purposefully to assist her towards her completion, while trying to hold back my own seed from coming to the fore.

She eventually gasped as she got to an orgasm, and I took this as permission to shoot into her. When she at last subsided and relaxed again, she whispered to me, “Thank you. I needed that; I hope you don’t mind.”

She was apologising for me firing sperm into her? That made me think: is she into the menopause, or still a fertile woman? I daren’t ask, so I kept quiet, and simply said, “I’m fine with it, if you are.” I slowly shrank and my softened shank slipped out of her, and we separated, satisfied.

We both went back to sleep until morning, apart from my usual need to get up and pee at some point later in the night. Maybe she did as well, but if so, she didn’t disturb my sleep. We were woken by a hand shaking me and then Patricia. “Bob? Mum? How are things now?”

It was Jenny, rightly concerned for her mother’s wellbeing. Patricia grunted and came to. “Uh, Jenny? Is it morning, dear?”

“Yes. How are you feeling, Mum?” then as she leaned closer, she noticed a mild aroma.

“Mum? Did you have sex with my Bob? It smells like it!”

“Eh? Sex? Did I? I don’t know; last night is a blur, but I am feeling much more myself, Jennifer.”

“Bob? Did you have sex with my mother?” Jenny turned and demanded of me.

I was stuck for an adequate answer, but Patricia stopped her with, “Jenny! What a thing to ask a man who is trying to help me! Don’t ask stupid questions, girl. Bob has sex with all his wives in this bed, so it is bound to smell of sex all the time. What is it to you anyway? Were you wanting to have sex with him? Is that it?”

Jenny coloured up and stuttered, “Ah, well, you see ... you and he...”

Patricia jumped on this. “You DO want to have sex with him, I see; sex with the husband of your best friend! How dare you ask me that silly question, right in front of him! Now, if you really wanted to have sex with him, you should ask him directly, and not embarrass your mother when she is recovering from nasty shocks.”

I was amazed at Patricia’s ability to divert Jenny’s query and put pressure on her daughter instead. I looked Jenny in the eye and asked her, “Well, after all our extensive kisses and cuddles, do you actually want to experience sex at some time?”

This threw Jenny into a tizzy. She tried to explain herself.”Your Sandy said that if I had sex with you, I might get pregnant and have a baby. I don’t know about having babies, but I would like to find out what sex is like; consensual sex, not what Dad did to girls. Sorry, Mum,” she ended with an apology at that reference to her father’s crimes.

Patricia reached out her arms and welcomed Jenny into her comforting embrace.

“There, there. It is all right, Jennifer.” She switched to a louder tone. “My little girl wants to grow up,” she announced to the room, before turning to her again. “Darling, if you want to learn sex, Bob is a good choice to do it with. His wives say he is a considerate lover. On top of that, if you did have a baby, I am sure Bob and his wives would have space in their nursery for it, if you want to go on to have a professional life or something. You can blossom in your own way. Daddy is no longer around to dissuade you, so you are free now to make your own decisions.”