Chapter 6

Cassie was all smiles as we walked into the flat. She was clearly expecting some information as to what passed between us. After all, she had pushed us together.

Rachel smiled at her knowingly, and tucked her arm in mine, pulling herself against me.

“He wants to date me!” she told her. “I’m so happy!”

“He’s pretty slow on the uptake,” confided Cassie to her, “but he gets there in the end, with a suitable push.”

The two looked at me and laughed. I shrugged and went to get some wine. From the smell there seemed to be some sort of chicken casserole, but I needed red wine, so I found a nice Australian Merlot and a Sauvignon Blanc for those who wanted white.

The girls were gabbling away together in the kitchen, so I made Gin and Tonics for us all as an aperitif, and joined them.

The chicken dish was quite spicy, with peppers, olives, garlic and oregano, to say nothing of tomatoes; buttered baby potatoes were also much in evidence. Delicious. Everyone had red wine!

I rustled up a treacle pudding for dessert, quickly done in the microwave oven, and served with ice cream. Then we retired to the living room with a brandy for Rachel and me, and a liqueur for Cassie, to have with our coffee. Of course, Rachel sat on the sofa and it was obvious where I was expected to sit. She cuddled up to me and stayed that way, throwing smiles at me from time to time. It was unnerving.

After one brandy, Rachel asked for whisky, which I was delighted to provide and even more delighted to learn it was Rachel’s favourite spirit. After she had sampled a few of my malt collection, there was no serious talking at all. In fact, we giggled and laughed the evening away. In a sense that was better for us than a deep discussion about our feelings; we were just naturally happy together. And drunk!

At eleven, I pointed out we all had work the next day, and Cassie with a knowing grin asserted that Rachel could not possibly drive home in her state of inebriation! Neither could either of us take her.

I was about to protest that Rachel and I were not going to sleep in the same bed, when Cassie, seeing my expression, told Rachel that she would see her to her room, which I later realised she had prepared while I was out at Rachel’s place. Rachel came to me and hugged me.

“Thanks!” she said, gazing into my eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I replied. “Sleep well.”

There was a chaste kiss on the lips and she was off to bed. I was left as if in the aftermath of an earthquake, after that hug and kiss. She had that effect on me, I remembered. That and a certain hardening down below.

All the more reason to be very cautious about the growth of any relations between us. I blessed my foresight in obtaining a three bedroom flat! I certainly was not ready to be pushed into bed with Rachel anytime soon, no matter how my body might scream at me to bed her immediately! In any case, she was still technically a married woman, at least I assumed so. I made a resolution to ask her how the divorce was going.

There was a knock on my door after I got into bed. Rachel? I steeled myself, but it was Cassie.

“I borrowed one of your dress shirts for Rachel to wear in bed. OK?” she asked, her head round the door. It was OK.

When I arrived in the kitchen the next morning, I found that Cassie had laid the table for a cereal breakfast with grapefruit. I set the kettle to boil and began to cut and segment the grapefruits. I was intent on this when a feminine presence made itself known.

“Morning!”

I looked up. Oh my sainted aunt! Rachel stood in the doorway. Her legs! My shirt hung from the sharp tips of her breasts and more to the point came just fractionally below her sex, and for the first time I could see all her legs. She had worn short skirts before, but never that short! I must have stared, because she laughed.

“Roddy,” she reproved me, “I said ‘Good Morning’!”

“Oh, er, Good Morning,” I blushed, having been caught out. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well,” she said, “and I’m glad you like my legs.”

“Like the rest of you, they’re perfect, but quite a distraction.”

She walked over to the teapot and kettle, and having checked that tea had not been made, but the kettle boiled, proceeded to make it. She went to the fridge, bent to pick up the milk bottle, giving a perfect view of her sheer high leg briefs and a hint of what lay beneath.

This time I was not going to be caught out.

“Nice knickers,” I said, and returned my eyes to the grapefruit in hand.

She made a noise at that, and I could not tell whether she was pleased or annoyed. Not my problem: she could have dressed, but obviously chose to flash me. There! I could be guilt-free about staring.

Cassie arrived and glanced at Rachel’s back, then looked again, and grinned at me. She knew the dynamics of Rachel’s ‘dress’ or lack of it. She winked and ran her tongue suggestively round her lips. Rachel turned round, aware something was going on, and Cassie put on an exaggerated air of innocence.

Breakfast was consumed in relative silence, except for Cassie asking with in impish grin, “So what are you both planning for the weekend?”

I looked at Rachel and she looked at me, then we both burst out laughing.

“Rachel, would you like to come here again this evening, and we can talk about things and even make plans?” I asked her.

“Thank you, yes, I’d like that,” she smiled that hundred watt smile. “I need to go home to change though.”

“You’re going to stay the night again, I hope,” said Cassie, with a knowing look.

Rachel looked at me apprehensively.

“Yes,” I said, “that would be a great idea.”

Cassie giggled, “Well, I’m going back to my flat, so you’ll have all the privacy you need.”

“Why should we need privacy?” I asked in Rachel’s direction.

“Can’t think,” Rachel said with a grin. “I’ll bring some nightwear this time.”

“Spoilsport!” I whined, and we laughed again. Being happy seemed to be growing on us.

We all retired to dress and then met in the hallway. I gave Rachel a key to the flat, and told her the PIN for the door to the block, then with another chaste kiss, and a mutual smile between Rachel and myself, we went off to our respective jobs.

It was fortunate that on that particular Friday all the computers in our area of influence were working perfectly, so the phones were largely silent. I needed a break from the big project, which seemed to be motoring along reasonably well. It meant that I could check over all the assistance the boys and girls in the main office had given to our other customers. It kept me busy and mentally occupied until lunchtime.

Then it was that the events of the previous few days impinged on my conscious mind, not to mention a certain woman’s arrival in my life.

The first reaction was excited elation that Rachel Grantham, the Rachel Grantham (except she was now Rachel Trowbridge), was intent on making me her boyfriend and who knows what else?

The next was that she was different from the other women I’d met, dated and/or bedded. Rachel was Zoë material, someone whom I already wanted to be more permanent. I could not see this as being a transient fling.

Then came the misgivings. She had gone with Gary for two years, then married him and the marriage lasted four years – six years in all. She said that after we’d been together she realised that Gary and she had little in common. After six years she realised that they had little in common? Could I believe that?

So I was different from all the other men including Gary? Perhaps it was true that it was the absence of sex coupled with the evenings and days out that enthralled her. The problem was that for six years according to her, sex was what kept them together, and according to her was practically the only thing.

So what if my performance was not up to Gary’s obviously high standard? What if someone came along in, say, eight years time and she had found in the meantime that I was lacking in some department? She did it once, why not again?

From elation to despondency in two minutes!

The rest of the day was not passed in a euphoric haze as I anticipated seeing her again that evening. I was no longer confident that this relationship would work out, and I would have to tell her that.

Having completed everything for that day and organised work for early the next Monday, I had already arrived home and had begun to prepare the evening meal, when I heard her key in the lock. I went to meet her and was rewarded by a dazzling smile (I did mention her teeth before?). Instantly all the worries I had entertained during the day simply evaporated. She dropped her cabin bag and came to my arms.

The kiss was not in the slightest a chaste one: it was a full on invitation to strip her gloriously naked and have my way with her, right there in the hallway, right then. There was an open mouth, soft lips nibbled and a tentative tongue which invited mine. Needless to say, I did not strip and ravish: there was still cooking to finish. Rachel sighed and went off to her room to leave her case, while I returned to the kitchen.

We ate opposite each other at the kitchen table, which meant I could gaze at her loveliness. She for her part gazed right back, her eyes showing love and affection: open, without guile or doubt. No furrowing of the brow, just peaceful relaxation. She was clearly contented and already feeling at home with me in my flat.

We chatted about our day. She had told me all about her job and what it entailed when we were ‘cheating’ Gary out of his cuckold status, and I had done the same for her, so no further descriptions were needed, though some of the characters needed putting in context.

After the meal we washed up and dried the pots and pans together, she begging to wash rather than dry, since I knew where everything went. Then I made decaffeinated tea and we went to the living room and sat together on the sofa.

I realised she hadn’t changed out of her business suit. The skirt was three inches above the knee standing and showed a lot more thigh than that as she sat with me on the low sofa.

“Music or TV?” I asked.

“Music,” she stated, and getting up, moved to the music player below the TV. She bent over and searched the play list, selecting a number of pieces.

Now if I had been programming the player, I would have knelt down or squatted. Not Rachel. Straight legged, she bent more than double from the waist and her skirt climbed higher and higher until I could see she was wearing stockings. Stockings! Who wears stockings to work when she could wear tights? In Winter! Did I remember her saying on one occasion that she never wore stockings?

There in front of me, low as I was on the sofa, were a pair of stockings on the most deliciously shapely legs, and above them pale, naked thighs, slim, tight and firm. The most delightful thing was that the skirt did not allow even a glimpse of her knickers! So tantalising! So erotic!

The soft strains of Mozart began and she straightened up and turned towards me.

“Will this do?” she asked, with a smirk. Not a smile – a smirk. She knew exactly what she had done.

I had a memory flash of that very morning, so I was not going to be embarrassed at looking at those gorgeous legs.

“The music or your sexy stocking clad thighs?” I asked innocently. Her smirk broadened, if such a thing be possible.

“I chose the music for me; I chose the stockings for you. I changed when I got here.” she said huskily, and the smirk softened into the most loving smile. She came and stood over me, legs apart on each side of mine, and leaning forwards, kissed me hard, holding my head to keep the contact as long as she wanted it, which turned out to be long enough for my penis to become fully erect and push painfully against my trouser leg.

She let go of my head, and knelt up onto the sofa, still either side of my thighs. This open stance pushed up the tightly stretched skirt until once again her milky thighs were on view, and this time a lot nearer to my face. Her thighs were flawless, tight and slim, begging to he stroked and kissed.

Her hand swooped to my belt and fly, both of which she undid with consummate skill. I stiffened (by which I mean the rest of me stiffened, my prick was already pushing out my boxers and was as stiff as it could get).

She kissed my forehead, and my eyelids, and my cheeks, while her hand delved into my boxer’s fly.

“Touch me!” she whispered. “Push up my skirt and touch me, please, Rod?”

I froze. Everything in me wanted to do just that, but this was wrong, it was too soon, too quick. It simply wasn’t right. I think my misgivings earlier in the day dictated those feelings; it was certainly not my body’s urgency.

As I said, I froze, and she felt it, darted a glance at my face, pulled her hand rapidly out of my underwear and stood off the sofa. She pulled down the hem of her skirt.

“Oh, shit!” she said, her face beet red. “Shit! I feel so ... humiliated. So embarrassed. I mean I thought ... It’s too soon isn’t it?”

I simply nodded. I held out a hand and she took it. I pulled her to sit with me, and hugged her, kissing her forehead, and stroking her hot cheek. Then a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I’m so sorry,” she began.

“Don’t be,” I replied. “A misunderstanding.”

She hugged me. “Can I try to explain?”

“You don’t need to, you know.”

“I’d like to. I feel such a relief that at last we’re together. I’ve missed you for so long. All that time after I started the divorce and I’d seen Cassie, I would feel so lonely and you’ve no idea how many nights I cried because I’d missed my chance with you again.”

“Again?”

“Well, school at first, then fooling Gary, I think I really began to fall in love with you then. And now, here we are, together, alone in your flat. Everything turned out right at last. It seemed natural to make love. I want you so badly Roddy darling.”