Chapter 11

By the beginning of March 2008 I knew, without any lingering doubt.

Actually I knew by the middle of February. The niggle of worry left over from the New Year's Eve party just disappeared one morning, and I gave it another month to be absolutely sure. By March I was.

I looked back on our time together since we arrived at the house just before the New Year, and it was, as always, as if we'd been together for years. Rather, it was as if we'd both been adrift for years and now we were home. That was it, we were home for each other.

What was it that I knew? That I could not live without her. That I was in love with her. Hopelessly in love, though from her attitude to me, very hopeful.

Now as I once said, it is becoming more and more common in this Britain of ours for people to live together for many years, have children together and sometimes never get married, but I wanted to say to the world that this woman was the one and only: I wanted to get married.

After the intensity of the first weeks of the new year we had settled into life together. I worked on my consultancy when people or companies commissioned me to do so, but they were few and far between. Everyone was keeping their heads down as the banks tottered. Those who came, I saved from too much disaster, or even made them some money. I was at home most of the time.

Nicola got herself some translating work from the London firm, working from home, and got some more modelling jobs which took her away from home for a short periods. I never gave her assignments a second thought. However, generally we were together at home all the time. If you can grow closer when under each other's feet for months, then you are probably very well suited.

And the sex? Are you kidding? We had lots of fun, we had times of great tenderness, sometimes she 'took' me aggressively, and sometimes I did the same with her. We did sanctify every room in our house, and the entrance hall, stairs and landing. She did dress up, but we didn't do role play well and gave it up. Mind you, she excelled in sexy underwear, and knew how to model it professionally! She didn't want any intrusion into her back passage beyond a lubricated finger, and I had no particular yen to take my cock in that direction. Suffice it to say we were active, very active.

Aside from sex and its foreplay, we were very affectionate. We couldn't stop touching each other, patting, stroking, kissing, hugging – all the time. We loved to sit cuddled together reading our books, or watching a programme on the television, or lying in bed wrapped round each other, tired out.

OK, you cynics, two months! You'd say it's not surprising we were like that. Early days. In one way it was, but in others, we were friends from way back. Even way back we were easy friends, and if not physically intimate, we had been deeply so in the exchange of ideas; so it was a natural thing for us to be close.

I bought a diamond cluster ring, sale or return. I'm romantic but also a trader! Then decided that the Sunday before we went back to Sunderland for Easter would be the day.

That morning I broke with our usual tradition of spending half the morning making love, and the second half eating a breakfast of croissants and pains au chocolat with coffee. Actually the proportion was usually more seventy five to twenty five percent.

That morning, I rose at eight. I made some tea, brought it to her side of the bed, woke her and then showered and shaved. Then I went downstairs in my dressing gown and waited. There was a pause of about half an hour and then she came down into the kitchen in her dressing gown, holding her mug. It was nine fifteen, and I switched on the radio, low.

"What's the matter, Kevin?" she said with a worried frown. "You didn't come back to bed."

"Get some more tea," I said shortly, "Then come and sit down. We need to talk."

She did and sat down at the table. "Kevin, what's the matter?" she asked. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," I said solemnly, "Nicola, we've lived together for two months, and I'm sorry, I've realised that I can't go on like this."

"I don't understand," she was getting upset.

"It's been very nice, Nicola," I said with a frown, "but I'm afraid it's just not been enough for me."

"But we've been so happy together?" Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "You've never said anything before."

"Well, it's time to sort things out now," I said seriously, and hearing what I wanted on the radio, I turned it up. It was 'Sunday Love Songs'. Again.

The presenter was saying "Nearly a year ago, Nicola Grayson wrote in to get in touch with Kevin Connors, late of Sunderland."

Nicola's head jerked up, looking completely puzzled. Just as I expected and wanted her to be.

The presenter went on to tell the story again. "Well, they did get together, and their relationship has been a bit up and down since, but now, Nicola Grayson, I hope you're listening, because Kevin wants to ask you this question. He says, 'What we have is not enough; please Nicola, will you marry me?' And Nicola, it would be great if you'd get in touch and tell us all what your answer is!"

The look of utter surprise and puzzlement as she tried to make sense of it all was priceless. Then there was dawning realisation and a smile began to form. I'll remember it to my dying day. I took the ring box out of my dressing gown pocket and opened it, offering the sight of the ring to her.

Well, the tears came, and the biggest smile I've ever seen on her as she looked at the ring and then to me, then back at the ring again.

"Well," I said, "will you?"

"Oh, yes," she sobbed. Then, "You pig! How could you do that to me?"

"Easily," I said, a little smugly. "A little bit of payback!"

I took the ring and she extended her hand to me. I put it on her ring finger and it fitted. I would have been surprised if it hadn't, since I got the size from her other rings.

Then she stood, and so did I. I made to go round the table to her, but she put up her hand to stop me. As I stood there, she went to the phone, looked up a number, and keyed it in.

Then another key press. Then "This is Nicola Grayson."

There followed some identification questions, for the old Beeb to be sure it was really her.

Then she gave the message, "The answer was Yes," and she put the phone down, and ran to my arms, as I turned up the radio.

We were rather involved in an extended kiss, our hands on the naked flesh inside our dressing gowns when the record playing on the radio finished and the presenter gave the news to the nation. He was crowing about the success of the "lost loves" slot. We stopped listening and went back, our arms round each other holding tightly, to bed.

Our love-making was not extravagant nor particularly athletic, but gentle and thoughtful. Wordless, except for the meaningless sounds as one or other of us orgasmed. We revelled in the feeling of skin on skin, of breasts rubbing across chests, of female mound against penis root, of hands and fingers tracing over buttocks and over backs, over faces, nibbling at fingers as they touched lips. Kisses on eyelids, on necks and shoulders, gentle bites at earlobes, and after we were sated we lay in each other's arms in peaceful rest, gazing deep into each other's eyes. Perhaps heaven was there that morning, and we wanted it to go on for ever.

However, this is earth, not heaven, and all things come to an end. We eventually had to get out of bed and get on with the everyday business of living. That evening we went by taxi into the city to the club, and Nicola was able to flash her ring, to the squeals of the women in our group. The men looked at each other and shrugged; there are some things about women we will never understand.

According the other women, Nicola was a 'jammy cow', a 'lucky bitch', and those were the cleanest epithets. Beth was delighted for her, and July said she would miss me, unless Nicola fancied lending me out. The answer to that did not need to be given. From the men I was told I was a fucking winner, a lucky bugger, an undeserving sod. Neither of us was allowed to buy a drink all night, and we were well beyond merry when we taxied home.

The taxi arrived at the gates, and Nicola immediately dived out and began to swagger up the drive. By the time I got out and went round to the cabbie's window to pay him she had unzipped her dress and was allowing it to fall, whereupon she bent and picked it up, her body lit perfectly from the drive lights.

The taxi driver was transfixed, gazing at her scantily covered bottom sensuously swaying along the drive.

"Don't bother with the tip," he said, "that's worth more than I've made all night!"

I had to agree, we laughed and I set off to follow her, keeping out of the line of vision of the cabbie, who for some reason did not immediately drive off. Nicola opened the front door, turned and waved at him, affording him a fine view of her barely clothed assets. Then she ran giggling into the house. I followed to find her inside the door, a wicked smile on her face.

"Like it?" she asked saucily.

"The cabbie did!" I laughed, "said it was his best tip on the night."

"Come on!" she ordered. "Get your kit off! I need you!"

I shed it all in the hallway, and we slammed together in a frenzied embrace. Somehow she had lost all her underwear!

She sank to her knees and then lay back on the wooden floor, legs wide apart. She immediately fingered her sex smiling at me all the while.

I dropped to my knees, leaned forward and felt her hand grasp my rigid cock and lead it to her. She pushed, I pushed. She was impaled. She gasped and groaned. She twitched her hips against me in an unspoken command.

So I obeyed and fucked her, resting on my hands and straight arms, until she pulled me down onto her. So on elbows and crushing her breasts beneath me I gave her a thorough workout until she made a guttural sound.

Then "Oh fuck! Oh, Yess! Aiee!" as her eyes went wide and then shut tight, then widened and rolled up into her head as she came.

Thanks to the excess alcohol I had imbibed I was nowhere near, but continued more gently but thrusting more deeply and withdrawing more fully. In such manner we continued until she grimaced.

"Hard floor?" I asked redundantly.

She nodded.

"Bed?"

She nodded.

Now teetotallers will be delighted with what happened next. I pulled out and we raced up the stairs, her tits and my cock swinging wildly. We fell onto the bed and she lay back expectantly, legs akimbo.

However, my cock had softened just enough to be unable to penetrate her. She tried with hand and then talented mouth, but thanks to the alcohol my soldier would not come to attention. She shrugged, and we climbed under the duvet and hardly had time to cuddle before we both fell asleep.