Rockman - Cover

Rockman

Copyright© 2015 by Always Raining

Chapter 26

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 26 - Musician, song writer and sometime Rock Group member Ged Smith and his writer and literary editor girlfriend Cassie Fenton should be a perfect match for each other, but her history and the ill-will of others combine to destroy them and make their journey a rocky one. This is a long story which unfolds slowly.

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

Ged spent the remainder of the week arranging songs with Gerry Frobisher, and eating with him and his wife each evening. On the Friday, Robin came to visit.

"You've phoned Cassie," she said as soon as she sat down.

Ged looked at her in surprise. "No," he said. "I realised after you went that I've not got her number. She's got mine but hasn't tried to contact me. I've been quite busy you know with these pieces for Gerry."

"But you can find her number?" came the rejoinder.

"Well," he began.

"Do it now, Ged." she ordered him briskly. "Don't delay any more. Get it over with."

Strangely Ged felt no resentment at her attitude. He knew he had been putting it off.

"OK, OK!" he said trying to sound petulant and failing. She smiled knowingly. It seemed impossible to be angry with this girl.

He left the living room and took out his phone. Then he remembered he had kept it switched off. He switched it on and keyed in Cheryl's number as he stood in the hallway. Brian answered.

"Hey, Ged!" Brian chirped. "Long time no hear! Hey, man, so sorry about you and Cassie."

"Yeah, it's a bummer," replied Ged. "Is she there? I could do with a word or two with her."

There was a moment of silence.

"She's not living here any more," Brian said hesitantly. "Didn't you know? She's got herself a flat. Cheryl's over there getting her settled in."

"Oh."

"You've not spoken to her, have you?" said Brian. "Oh dear."

"I've not got her new mobile number. I was rather hoping she would phone me. I'm sure she knows my number." He wondered whether she had tried while his phone was off.

"But I thought you two were finally finished, you know, broken up. That's what I gathered from what I've heard the women saying. Didn't you know? She didn't tell you?"

"The last time we 'talked' it was a shouting match and I think we both said things in the heat of the moment. I wanted to talk with her and sort things out. If it means she's finished with me, it was no way to part."

"Oh." Another silence.

"So," Ged prompted, "have you got her number?"

"Er, yes. Hold on."

There was a muffled sound of searching, then Ged heard the phone picked up.

Brian told him the number.

"Thanks Brian." Ged said.

"Good luck," his friend replied, ringing off.

Ged keyed in the number. It went to voice mail.

"Cassie, it's Ged. Can we talk in a better mood than last time? I couldn't phone you earlier, I hadn't got your number. Please phone me back on my mobile – I'm not at home at the moment."

He went back to the family. "Voice mail," he said. "I've asked her to phone me back. If she doesn't, I'll text her. Some people never check their voicemail."

The rest of the evening passed and she did not reply, nor on Saturday. He sent a text.

Please Cassie, can we talk? We seem to miss each other and misunderstand each other. Please ring me. Ged.

There was no reply, nor did she phone.

On Monday he was packing in his hotel suite when his phone rang. The ID showed him it was Gus.

"Could you stay another week and meet Viv and the group tomorrow to practise and join them on Wednesday for a recording session? You remember you promised it them before you went to the States?"

Ged sighed; he had begun to want home comforts after his prolonged stay at the Ritz, but he rebooked the suite and settled back in. He phoned his mother, worried that he'd not been to see her for weeks.

The next day he met the group at the studio and they spent the day in practising. The recording session took all day Wednesday and Thursday until late in the evening. No one had mentioned Cassie at any time, for which he was grateful. Each evening he checked his email, his texts and his voice mail, but she had not replied.

Ged invited them all to dinner on the last day and Robin came as well, since, like the group, he would be leaving for home the next day. He saw Viv's surprise when they were introduced but she said nothing until the group were leaving the hotel for their own.

"I'm truly sorry about you and Cassie," Viv said, and squeezed his arm. "Robin is a lovely girl."

That was all. It set him thinking. First Brian and then Viv had spoken as if it were all over between Cassie and himself, and he felt a pang of loss. He was also puzzled and felt as if the relationship was unfinished. There was no closure, and he wondered where he stood with her.

He wanted them to remain friends, and yet the opposite seemed to have happened. They were at odds; antagonistic towards each other. So it was in that unsettled frame of mind that he took the train home.

He was glad to get back to the house. It welcomed him into its quiet embrace. He noted that Karin had been in and that the fridge and freezer were well stocked. He blessed the woman; even after they had parted as lovers, she still looked after him.

On the train, he had read a recommended novel, had completed every puzzle in his daily paper, looked out of the window, and regarded his fellow passengers who seemed uninteresting.

He availed himself of every complimentary offer by the hostess in first class. She had seated herself opposite him when not busy and engaged him in conversation. There was none of the usual flannel from a fan, she was a more of a critic, and they discussed music and composing.

She was a writer in her spare time, and did her hostess job to observe people and to keep the wolf from the door. He was grateful for her intelligent conversation, like everything else it kept his mind from his besetting worry, Cassie.

Now he was home, with a cup of tea and a welsh rarebit for his evening meal, the unfinished business began to plague him.

"It's no use," he said to the empty room, "I really have to think this thing through. This soap opera has gone on long enough."

He smiled to himself and wondered whimsically if the house heard him and understood, but it sure as hell was saying nothing. Moreover he realised that was the problem between Cassie and him; they weren't talking. Yes, they'd had those heated conversations, but what they really needed were a series of talks without losing tempers, without shouting, but going over the problems and trying to find solutions.

He remembered with pleasure that Karin had put a Baby Grand Piano in the music room. He had been so immersed in his songs and had used the keyboard because of its effects and portability. In fact the last time the piano was played was at the house-warming party.

He went to the room, took out a book of Beethoven Sonatas and put himself through four of them. It was his way of purging his complicated thoughts. Then he went back to the living room, programmed his hard drive player to play Mozart symphonies, opened a bottle of Shiraz and settled to sort out his thoughts and feelings.

It crossed his mind briefly that when he wanted to think, he went to Mozart and Beethoven, a far cry from what he wrote. As the music began to play, he set himself to think things through carefully and positively. There had been too much negativity he realised; he would not dwell on those times.

He left it at that, only noting the series of misunderstandings and the negative feelings they engendered. He wondered if he had misunderstood what he saw at Cassie's house.

He reprised his encounter with Cassie at Catherine's. He homed in on his own feelings of tenderness and care for Cassie. Then what she had suffered and the revelation that had been for him. She had always seemed so self-contained, self-assured, but she carried that burden and along with it her distrust of making relationships.

What an act of faith her commitment to Ged had been in the light of that history! He knew if she had told him of her trauma he would never have gone on that tour. They would probably be married now; he felt emptiness.

The comments of his friends as he had left for the haven of Catherine's arms returned to plague him.

'She's honest and faithful, '

'If Zak had not been there, would she have gone with anyone else?'

'Running away, '

'She's a victim like you, '

'You're totally self-obsessed, '

'Zak did all the harm, why are you loading onto her?'

'You're so wrapped up in yourself you're going to make the mistake of your life, '

'She'll find someone and have his babies, '

'A second best life.'

It decided him. His own life would be a second best one if he did not act. He must see her and put things right. This time they would talk and there would be no angry recriminations, rather an earnest apology to her for being so heartless. Then they would see how to set about getting together again.

For the first time he felt optimistic about them, and there was a growing desire for her. He searched in a cupboard for her framed photo, took it out and placed it on the mantlepiece in the living room. He looked at her smiling face from a time before trouble befell them, and she was so beautiful.

He felt happy and contented that all the trauma was going to be put behind them and they could look forward together once more. Her divorce would be final sometime in October and they could get married as they always should have done.

Forgetting that Cassie had not replied to any of his messages or phone-calls he phoned her number, and again it went to voice mail.

"Cassie, my darling," he pleaded. "Please ring me back and arrange a time to meet and talk. I've been a fool, and I want to put things right between us. I'm sorry we've been shouting at each other each time we've met, and I guarantee it won't happen again. We need to set things straight between us. Please ring me."

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