The Way Back - Cover

The Way Back

Copyright© 2015 by Always Raining

Chapter 10

Mystery Sex Story: Chapter 10 - When Allan Jonsson came out of the coma, he had to start from scratch with a badly battered head and body, beginning with remembering who he was. It was to be a long journey of discovery: reclaiming his previous life and seeking answers to how and why he was nearly murdered.

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

On Friday I felt tired when I woke up. It had been an emotional few days and my poor old body was reacting against the strain. But I dragged myself out of bed, showered, shaved and breakfasted, keeping myself on the go. I drove to work and arrived before Geoff. I was looking through the specifications for the latest round of jobs when he arrived.

He was eager to know what had transpired in Sweden and I gave him the whole story.

"Well," he said when I had finished. "So the woman did not lure you to the mugging. I'm glad Jan Thomasson was able to give you a clean moral bill of health! Not that I ever suspected you of anything. So when are you going to meet Ann and acquaint her with the truth of the matter?"

"I've not thought things through yet, Geoff. I need some time to assimilate the new knowledge. My immediate reaction is to let her get on with her life. Facing her with the news that she was wrong about me can only hurt her."

"But Susan thinks you're going to have to meet your children. They deserve that, Allan. More, they are entitled to it, don't you think?"

"Yes, I want them to have me in their lives again, but I have to do things carefully. They aren't going to be too badly damaged by another few weeks. After the decree absolute I think would be the time to start thinking about it. David has already secured access rights, very open ended as well, so there won't be a problem. He says Ann has a strong sense of justice and doesn't want to deprive them of their father. That bodes well, but I don't want to mess Ann up in the process."

"You have some feelings for her then?"

"No, not really, she's a person and I wouldn't want to mess her about. I wouldn't mess anyone else about so why start with her?"

"OK, point taken."

We moved on to business and worked together for the rest of the day. I was going to cancel my physio when I awoke that morning, but after the day's work I felt better and went for my regular pounding. It did me good as it always did, I could tell by the aching joints!

On Saturday I rose late for me, about ten. I decided to go walking in the Peaks. I drove out there and walked onto Kinder Scout, remembering to walk for half the time I wanted to be there, so I could spend the same time coming back. It is all uphill going and therefore downhill coming back.

My intention was to spend the time thinking. In reality I hardly thought at all, but my body, especially my legs got a fine work out. When the air is freezing and the wind is so strong that you need to lean into it and then it begins to rain and the rain turns to sleet and hits you horizontally, you stop thinking and all attention is on the weather and the struggle against it.

I'd had enough of the great outdoors and drove home. It was only when I'd parked the car at the flat that I realised I had driven the route from memory without thinking. That felt really good!

As I sank into my favourite armchair and enjoyed the winter sun slanting across the room, I felt utterly content. I began to consider my life so far. Since I returned to Manchester I'd been the centre of the hopes and enthusiasm of my friends. I'd been sucked into the search for the meaning of my injuries; for the solution to the mystery. I'd been on the receiving end of a campaign to get me back with Ann who I still did not know.

Through it all, there was Trish. She had been the solid home for my spirit; my encouragement and support. The thought began to take shape that after all, the two of us might settle down together permanently. I had rehearsed all the reasons why this would not work, but after her guilt trip about Tim I wondered if she were ready for a totally committed relationship. Perhaps, I thought. The time away together in Wales might clarify things. But, I reasoned, I really had everything in life I needed as things stood. Of course I had completely forgotten about New Zealand.

I realised I needed to settle more into work. It was my company and I should be more involved. My physical health was improving; I hardly needed the stick except when I got tired. My limbs still ached, but the physio and gym work were countering the worst of it and I was physically very fit. Mentally my memory was returning in spurts, and my short-term memory constantly surprised me, though I still carried Geoff's little wonder as a back up.

The problem was getting some memory of Ann and the children. I remembered a family playing in the back garden at Cherry Tree it was more what they played: catch, frisbee, cricket etc. rather than what they looked like. I sporadically remembered things about their school life: Greta's exam results, or the older lad coming back from a school trip. It was again what happened rather than a picture of the event. What I did not have was any memory of my emotional life with Ann or even of any moments of affection. It puzzled me but I was confident such memories would return in time.

It was dark by the time my thoughts drew to an end and I felt much better. There is something satisfying about watching the winter sun set and the growing coldness of the night outside repelled by the warmth of the flat. I stirred myself to make a sandwich for my evening meal and a pot of tea. I had just finished when the phone rang. It was Trish phoning from work.

"Allan, I've something to ask you."

My heart sank. What disappointment was coming my way?

"Well?" I asked, my feelings evident in my voice.

"Hey! Cheer up! I wanted to ask if I drove over tonight you would mind?"

My spirits lifted at once. "I'd be delighted!" Now I was smiling.

"It'll be very late, one or two a.m."

"No problem; just use your key, I won't bolt the door."

I went to bed and was sound asleep when I felt a warm body slide into bed beside me. I vaguely wondered who it was, but was asleep again before I could answer my own muddled question. In the morning I woke early as usual to find her sleeping peacefully beside me, a half smile on her pretty face.

I left her sleeping and went to buy a newspaper. I was doing the crossword when I heard her go to the bathroom, and made a pot of tea with which to greet her when she went back to bed. I took it to her and had begun to undress to get back into bed when she insisted we get up and set off for Wales as soon as we'd had some breakfast. I was a little disappointed but acquiesced, and within the hour we were on our way, with the winter sun at our backs and the early Sunday roads relatively empty.

The hotel was good, the food excellent and the weather mainly dry if cold, the wind being from the north off the sea. We had a leisurely few days, touring in the car to places where we could hike. We went to the coast and, suitably muffled against the biting wind, walked along the beach enjoying the sight and sound of the breakers. It was, she said, almost as cold as Tynemouth!

We got back to the hotel mid afternoon each day and spent the time before dinner making relaxed and sensual love in the huge newly made bed. There is a peacefulness which arises between couples who fit well together and have no need to impress. We talked about all sorts of things, but often were silent with each other and the silence was comfortable.

I think that was what clinched it for me. We were comfortable together; our love making left nothing to be desired; she had said that she was past the stage of one-night stands and wanted loving commitment in her love making. Ann was marrying Derek and was settled. Our ages were disparate, true, but if she didn't mind neither did I.

So it was at dinner on Tuesday night, our last night before going home, that I decided to take the plunge and ask her if she would like to make our relationship permanent when she forestalled me.

"Allan?" I looked up from the excellent seafood platter.

"I need to tell you something. You know I said I wanted to join my family in New Zealand? Well, now you're settled back at your hometown, I've decided that I'll make plans to emigrate. I've begun the process already but I felt I needed to tell you as soon as possible."

It came as a body blow, or shall I say my stomach sank? Or the bottom dropped out of my world? Well not quite, but the shock on my face was obvious.

"Oh God, Allan!" she cried softly, "I never meant to hurt you! I thought–"

I found my voice – and my self control.

"No Trish. It's just come as a shock, you telling me out of the blue like that. I suppose it would always come as a shock now we've become so close. I know I should have expected it; after all, you did say that it was in your plans, but somehow it was always going to be a wrench. I just wasn't ready for it to be so soon."

"Allan, if I thought you would come with me, I'd be looking at marrying you. You don't mind me saying that, do you?"

I shook my head.

"But you won't leave here, I know. You care too much about your business and the people who work there. And there are your children. I know you want to get to know them, but I need my family around me as well; my parents are getting old and will need me. My father has already had a slight stroke. Will you be all right?"

"Trish, my darling, I think I was shocked because we were getting, have got, so close. I have to admit I thought of marriage myself, but here, not New Zealand. You're right; I can't leave the life I've just rediscovered, though it will be awfully empty without you. You're so much part of me now and I owe you so much."

At this the tears came for both of us and we ate the rest of the meal in silence. Then we made for our room, stripped each other and fell into bed and hugged our nakedness together hard. Our hands roamed over each other as if to commit to memory every part of our bodies. I was hard and all she had to say was 'please', as she rolled on top of me. I was more than ready as she put me inside her and sank down until we were totally meshed together.

Then she fell forward and put all her weight on me. That in itself was symbolic, because for many weeks she had been unable to put weight on me without causing me pain. She was telling me that I was as whole as I'd ever be but that she too would always miss me.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her more tightly on top of me, and there we stayed for a long time, until she felt my erection begin to subside and sat up to ride me back to hardness, and then on to her own orgasm and to mine, her breasts swinging to and fro as she rose and fell, until I caught them and tweaked her nipples. It was enough and she cried out as she came, and I came after, sent over the edge by her own climax.

Afterwards she resumed her prone position and when my cock slipped from her, she in turn slipped off me and we cradled each other in our arms, rocking each other gently to and fro.

"Allan."

"Yes, my darling."

"It'll be some weeks before I go. Can we go on like we are until then?"

"Making love, you mean. Visiting each other?"

"Yes."

"Of course. I want every bit of you I can get until you slip from my arms."

She snuffled, and her face was wet, "There's one more thing."

"Yes?"

"If someone else comes along, you know, another woman, don't keep her at arm's length just because of me. Promise me you'll take her on."

"Trish," I half laughed, "I think that's most unlikely, don't you? Beauty and the beast is a fairy tale, you know."

At this she laughed through her tears.

"There's very little of the fairy about you, my boy. Believe me, I think you'll be surprised. You know, you are a powerful man: you own a company. Power is very erotic to women. Why do ugly politicians end up with stunning wives and even more stunning mistresses? It's power, and of course you're also very rich!"

I giggled. "You mean they'll only want me for my money?"

"Allan, once you've bedded them they won't be bothered about your money," she reached forward and tweaked my penis. "Believe me. You're a talented lover but your money and power will get them into your bed!"

I laughed. "We poor men are no match for you scheming women, are we?" and she slapped me gently.

"Go on with you," she scolded. "You can hold your own."

"I might have to after you've gone!"

"Dirty boy!"

And our joined laughter lightened the atmosphere.

Wednesday morning dawned wet and windy. We breakfasted early, I paid the bill and we were on the road home by ten. I drove. Trish had driven to Wales and indeed had driven the car everywhere while we were there; she loved the automatic car but she had a three hour drive back to Newcastle later in the day and I insisted she rest. So we were able to have some lunch at home before she set off.

"Don't forget, Allan," she smiled, as she settled into her car, "if a pretty young thing hits on you, go for it! It's an order!"

"Same for you. Don't feel guilty if you have another fling with Tim."

Her face clouded briefly before the smile resumed its place.

"No more flings for me. You'll do until I go, but I'll be hunting once I get down under! If you do find a woman you won't ditch me completely before I go, will you?"

I assured her that she would have first place in my affections and my bed until she went and she looked relieved. I bent and kissed her and she kissed me back hard, pulling my head down to her hungry lips. Then she was gone.

I felt at a loose end after she'd gone, so I got back in the car and went to the gym and had a strenuous workout. My trainer expressed his satisfaction at my fitness and my progress, and I went home feeling relaxed and satisfied.

On the way home I got a curry from my local take-away. While I ate, I watched the evening news, muttering at the poor use of English and the clear editorial bias in some of the reporting, but after it was over, I turned the TV off and put on some music, reaching for a novel I had bought in Conwy.

Geoff phoned before I could open it, asking if I was going to grace them with my presence on the morrow, about which I reassured him.

"And Friday, as well. You'll be sick of the sight of me, I'll be cramping your style."

After he had rung off with a few friendly insults about absentee landlords, I opened the novel, but couldn't settle to it. I thought of Trish and her new life in NZ.

She had been my support and my security for a long time, all my recent life. She was the bedrock on which I had built my confidence and pertinacity. She supported me when depressed, laughed about my disabilities when everyone else looked hesitant and pussy-footed around me, and afforded me all the love and sexual release I ever needed. Now she was going and I began to feel apprehensive about surviving on my own. In my head I knew I would manage, but my heart was nearing panic stations.

Though Trish always bolstered my confidence as a sexual partner and had always been there for me, I had never considered until she told me of her going, that I might be alone without a lover for the rest of my life. Trish had been my partner. I might never have another. She might be confident that women would fall at my feet; I had no such illusions.

So I began to feel depressed that she was leaving me. I felt deserted, almost betrayed, but immediately berated myself. After all, I thought, until last week I never really felt that we were a permanent fixture. At least we both knew where we stood. She'd done me the favour of giving me time to adjust. I felt a surge of love for this woman who was so thoughtful; though it made her departure all the more distressing.

My thoughts turned to work. Geoff wanted me to take care of contracts and indirectly of sales. I thought about that. My face would not improve much more. It was scarred and ugly. No eyebrows, a peculiar nose. At least I had my own lips, and a fine set of false teeth, mainly crowns, but my head was a different matter.

I had long been embarrassed at my patchy hair, and the bald patches where the scars showed through, until I realised that they would always be visible whether I had the rest of my hair or not. So I had shaved my head and usually wore a hat or a skull cap.

My knees were tender without being painful, but I could live with that. Thanks to physio and the gym my muscle tone was superb. I had a six-pack, though it was crossed by a scars from an operation early after my admission to hospital to sort out some internal damage caused by the kicking I'd received.

Mentally, my short-term memory was getting much better by leaps and bounds, and the very patchy long-term memory was getting closer to the present except for the lack of images, which I mentioned before.

My speech was slightly slurred, and my thought processes were slower than I would have liked, but they worked. I was absent minded; I mislaid things; forgot what I was looking for. I'd lose my train of thought and wonder what I'd been talking about.

These 'qualities' were not conducive to a good sales technique. Where I shone was in drawing up contracts and tightening them up. I was a hard bargainer, I remembered that. I decided I needed to talk to Geoff about this before I made a real mess of a negotiation. His confidence in my abilities was a source of pleasure but needed a dose of realism.

So the next morning I relayed all that to him and then sat back and waited for his response. He looked thoughtful and sat back in his own chair. Eventually he spoke; carefully, I thought.

"Really, what you need is a bloody good personal assistant. Someone who can handle things by themselves, and would therefore be in the best position to, shall we say, remedy your deficiencies. Right?"

It was my turn to think.

"That's roughly it, but a consultant wouldn't warrant a PA would he?"

"No, that's true, but you won't be incognito for much longer, and let's face it, though it may look odd, as managing director I can do what I bloody well want!"

He laughed his trade-mark short barking laugh (how did I know that?), then became serious. "Of course, your PA will have to know who you are – and be able to keep it a secret."

"So?" I asked.

He seemed abruptly to change the subject.

"How's things with Patricia?"

I gave him the full story, and finished by explaining that we were freeing one another up while keeping our relationship going until she went.

"No chance of getting back with Ann?" he asked.

"I don't see the relevance of all this," I said, rather tersely, "but since you ask, I remind you she's marrying someone else! So no."

He seemed relieved, strangely I thought, since he seemed to be part of the 'get back together with Ann' campaign.

"The relevance is that I know just the person but it's a she. I just didn't want any complications with Patricia or with Ann, that's all."

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