The Boys in Blue
Chapter 37

Copyright© 2018 by Robin Lane

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 37 - Romance set against the war in Afghanistan

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Military   War   Cream Pie   Oral Sex  

At five he tapped Terry’s e-mail address on Skype into the PC in the study, after a few minutes Terry appeared wearing pyjamas. At the sight of his face, her lip trembled and a tear started to run down her face. “Bobby ... I didn’t think you would ever want to talk to me again.”

“Well it took me a while to think things through, but bottom line, I want to hear from you if we are over.”

“Over,” her face crumbled, “I never want it to be over between you and me; I love you, I always will.”

“But what about May, the papers seemed pretty sure of their facts.”

“That bastard,” she hissed, “and the tabloids are just as bad.”

“So what did happen?”

Terry began to explain. Her record company had wanted her to do a couple of duets with May on her new album, they already had him under contract so on paper it seemed a good idea.

They had done the duets, which completed the album. The record company’s publicity man who was in charge of launching the new album suggested that they should celebrate. Terry had worked hard to push the album along wanting it completed before he returned, so they could be together with no interruptions. So she agreed, the party consisted of John, her manager, and his wife, May and Terry, and the publicity guy with his dolly bird. He had booked a table at a well know nightclub for them. What she didn’t know was that the little shit, as she called him, had tipped off a photographer to be present, and had also spoken to May. The evening had started well, but as it drew on May was drinking more, and grew quite tipsy, when suddenly, he put an arm around her, kissing her hard his other hand clutching at her breast. That’s when the photograph was taken, although she was unaware of it at the time.

“I was so startled,” she said, “it took a second for me react; I slapped the bastard hard across his smug face and dashed out of the club.”

The next morning she was woken by hammering on her door. When she opened it, there were about twenty reporters and photographers their lights flashing in her face shouting questions at her. ‘Had she seen the morning paper?’ ‘Were she and May an item?’ ‘Did her husband know?’

“Bobby it was horrible,” her voice breaking. “I slammed the door in their faces and ran upstairs. I phoned John, he had only just seen the papers. I explained about the reporters outside. He advised me to get out of there as soon as possible, and go and stay with someone for a few days until the press lost interest.

I had no sooner put the phone down than it rang. It was a reporter from a daily, I just slammed it down. I was just standing there trying to get my thoughts in order when my mobile rang it was another reporter. “Bobby they had my phone and mobile numbers, I felt trapped,” she said sobbing. “I phoned for a taxi and arranged for it to meet me at the end of the lane on the main road. I threw some cloths on grabbed my handbag and just left, they followed me all the way up the lane asking horrible questions.

I jumped into the taxi and offered the man an extra twenty pounds if he made sure we weren’t followed. He dropped me off at Sue’s flat in Notting Hill, thankfully she was in. I never left the flat for three days; the papers were still splashing it, what they didn’t know they made up. The worst part was I couldn’t get in touch with you, I tried, Bobby, God knows I tried. But no one in the military would help, something about bloody security. Sue didn’t have a computer. And Carol and July were out of town.” She was wiping her eyes with a tissue.

“Three days ago John found out what he had already suspected. He confronted the little shit in the office of one of the executives of the record company. He quite willingly admitted that he had set it up, pointing out what great publicity it had created. May had gone along with it for the publicity and his ego. They made him write out a statement of what he had done and that I had not been involved in it, and then they fired him.

I managed to get through to Alan Carr and asked what time your plane landed, rather reluctantly he told me. By the time I got to Brize Norton, you’d gone.”

He looked at her, seeing her eyes red and swollen. “Darling you’ve been through hell whilst I’ve just been feeling sorry for myself.”

 
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