Renewals

I paced around the hotel room in frustration, checking the time on the TV. The bathroom door was partially open, allowing a cloud of steam and soapy smells to escape, overlaid with deodorant and perfume.

"Come on, the meet and greet kicked off at seven. It's five past already, and you're still messing about in there."

The loud roar of a hair dryer drowned out any answer that may have been forthcoming, still that was better than the silent treatment I'd been getting for what seemed like years now.

This holiday was supposed to be a kick-start, she had described it as a chance to move on, a restart on life.

That was all well and good, but if we were going to be late on parade then everyone would already be in their new groups, and we would be left with the dull estate agents from Coventry as our table mates.

Not that there was a dull estate agent from Coventry, well there probably are hundreds, but I meant on this holiday.

I stuck my head into the bathroom.

"Oh, for Christ's sake Abbie, you're not even dressed yet."

I paused for a moment. Twelve years married and I can still appreciate my wife being naked, deep brown hair, cut fairly short. Pixie cut I think they call it. Brown eyes, cute small yet pointy nose, sad eyes, and full red lips. Further down her 34c boobs were still perky, a nice golden all over tan with pink nipples, flat stomach, toned thighs hiding a pussy that she used to keep trimmed and waxed but since the silent treatment started had become more unruly, these days looking more like a wild garden than a play area.

I leaned closer and spoke over the sound of the hair dryer, "Please, can you get a move on?"

She shivered, turned towards the door and, looking right through me reached out and slammed it shut.

I skipped out of the way and gave an indignant squawk.

"Hey, mind out. Look, shall I go down and grab us a seat? I'll let you know what you miss."

I listened, but all I could hear was the roar of BaByliss's finest doing its work.

Down in the Mary Shelley conference room a group of forty to fifty people were milling around, clutching their complimentary cocktails. Their ages seemed to range between thirty and fifty-five, so I was smack in the middle of that demographic at forty-five and Abbie was in the younger third at thirty-six. I tried making small talk with a few but no one really seemed to engage, so I hung around on the edges, checking them all out.

Who looked as if they had way too much knowledge of the state of the housing market in Coventry? That guy looked like he knew his way around a sunny aspect or a property with promise. Tall, blond, looking too smug by half, with his designer suit, black T-shirt, and white trainers.

Abbie chose that moment to arrive, she was wearing something I hadn't seen before. A Burgundy two piece, with a flared skirt and a jacket cut low enough to show off her cleavage. Except there was a black round necked silky shirt underneath ruining the view. The ensemble was rounded off by a pair of four-inch black stiletto heels that I also didn't remember seeing before. She did look particularly good.

I pointed at the complimentary cocktails, which she found and selected something long and fruity.

I was about to brief her on the estate agent when a door opened at the far end and a woman in her mid-forties wearing a Navy and Cream two-piece suit over a navy silky t shirt top stepped in and clapped her hands.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to 'Renewals.' I'm Serena"

"Of course, you are. Bloody Serena." I muttered into Abbie's ear, "Couldn't be Jane or Sharon. No Bloody Serena. I bet her colleague's called something like Jocasta or Luciana."

The silent treatment continued.

"I'm Serena and my colleague Allegra is over there."

"Hah. Bloody Allegra. I knew it." Unsurprisingly the silence continued.

Serena pointed to the main entrance where another similarly aged woman in the same navy and cream ensemble waved.

"We are here to make sure you have the best time possible, so if there's anything that you need or there's anything you need to know, just ask."

I shouted out "When's the bar open?" and was completely ignored. Tumbleweed blew through the room.

The Estate Agent called out "When does the decent booze come out? I'm not really a cocktail kinda guy."

My dislike of him increased with the ripple of laughter. That and his Italian accent.

"Twat" I muttered.

Abbie looked around, catching his eye she gave a little smile.

Allegra fielded the question, "Don't worry mister."

He smiled, "Batista. Nico. Nic."

She continued, "Don't worry Nic, we have a fully equipped bar, what would you like, and I'll go and fetch it for you."

He smiled back, "Only if it's not too much trouble," which of course it wasn't, "Do you have an English Pint? Preferably Golden Champion?"

Bastard, my favourite pint. I was not going to find it hard to continue hating him.

She scurried off.

Meanwhile Serena was waffling on about how there were some introductory games to help break the ice and get everyone talking.

I gave Abbie an unimpressed look, but she seemed determined to go ahead with it.

Allegra returned with what looked remarkably like a pint of Golden Champion.

I turned to my wife and whispered "If you're determined to do this I'm going to go and find one of those pints. See you back here in a while."

Without looking at me, she said "Yes, that would be great" and walked over the room to join a group of seven at one of the round tables. Nico the Estate Agent was in the same group. Why wouldn't he be?

I wandered around the complex for about an hour searching for a decent beer but was out of luck. I did notice that there were no other guests at the hotel, which probably explained why it was so cripplingly expensive.

The complex was extensive, there were at least three pools, one Olympic size set out for lane swimming, one that was made to look like a rocky lagoon and one that included a long lazy river that ran around the bars and terraces, passing through what seemed to be a section of rain forest, although as we were in Cornwall that seemed to be unlikely.

The building itself was an old Victorian manor house with a modern annex behind it holding about fifty bedrooms. We had one of the bedrooms in the main part which were all very plush, fourposter beds, roll top baths, separate sitting areas and big walk-in wardrobes, there were also lots of dark nooks and hidden corners filled with comfortable looking chairs and sofas around the place.

The new annex was less luxurious, the rooms were more along the lines of a four-star business hotel than an Uber-posh boutique getaway. It did have a fully equipped gym with steam room and jacuzzi in the basement, so it wasn't the worst hotel I'd ever seen.

All the large meeting rooms and main building bedrooms were named after Women, some prominent, other less so there was the Mary Shelley suite where the meet 'n' greet was going in, there was a Mary Anning room, a Marie Curie room, and a Margaret Alworthy room. No clue who she was, but I'd heard of most of the others. We were in the Mary Jackson room. The Annex rooms were numbered. I don't know if all the rooms in the Main building began with 'M,' but I didn't notice any that weren't.

After an hour or so I still hadn't found a beer, so I wandered back to the Meet 'n' Greet. Things had progressed, everyone had name badges on and had split down into groups of four.

Abbie was with the Estate Agent, who had a badge saying 'Nic' alongside a tall woman with grey hair, but in a deliberate, quite attractive way, highlighting her green eyes which went nicely with her black dress. She hadn't hidden her cleavage which while small was on display to good effect. She had a name badge with 'Sally' on it.

Alongside Sally was a shorter slightly overweight guy in a grey pinstripe suit, his name badge said 'Roger,' so I assumed that was his name.

I tried joining in, but they were heavily involved in the conversational icebreaker, so I backed off and listened in. They chatted away for about five more minutes, Nic seemed to be giving Abbie his attention, Roger and Sally were hitting it off as well.

Shortly Allegra clapped her hands and announced that there were activities organised for each day, a morning session, and an afternoon session. Each person had to choose their own with no referring to anyone else, Allegra explained that this was to help ensure a good mix of different people at each one and so that everyone got to meet everyone else. Four days, so choose eight from the sixteen available. Details were in the Mary Seacole room.

We took around ten to fifteen minutes checking the activities, which ranged from Archery to Zombie Hunting. I couldn't find where to register what I wanted to do so I decided to just follow Abbie, bollocks to their rules.

Time had done its inevitable thing, and everyone was called through to the dining room for dinner. I watched as Roger and Nic escorted Sally and Abbie in, the sight of the Italian twat with his hand resting on my wife's shoulder sent a twist of anger through my stomach, but there wasn't a spare seat at their table, so I didn't have a chance to break them up.

Fuming I found myself sat with four total strangers, their name badges said "Colin" "Linda" "Gerry" and "Winnie" but may as well have said John, Paul, George, and Ringo for all the interest I had. I spent the meal staring across the room, my eyes boring into Abbie's head as she laughed and flirted through the evening. What made it worse for me was that she hadn't looked so happy or alive for... well, a long time.

I was in a foul mood by the time the last of the plates were cleared away, I couldn't tell you what we had, in fact I'm not sure I even remember eating.

Serena appeared to announce there would be a band playing in the Mary Anning room until twelve thirty so there were two hours to trip the light fantastic.

I don't dance at the best of times and in my current mood I was as likely to punch someone as dance. I stamped across the dining room to Abbie's table and was about to say I was going to bed and she should come with me if she didn't want to be locked out when she looked around her group and said, "Lily and I are dancing, which one of you gentlemen wants to join us or will we have to go girl on girl?"

Scandalised drunken laughter rolled around the table, Roger asked if he could be first, and would they mind if he did it with them both. Lily asked if he meant together or sequentially, more laughter burst out when he said together would have been a dream twenty years earlier but at fifty-three one at a time was all he could manage.

Lily stood up and held her arm out for him to hold and escort her through. As he stood, she looked across at Abbie and said, "I'll try not to tire him out for you, if you give it ten minutes after I finish, I'm sure he'll be ready again." Then she gave a wink and glided away on his arm.

A tall, slightly balding man in a polo shirt and chinos coughed and asked if Abbie would mind joining him on the dance floor. She smiled radiantly and said, "Of course I will Patrick, I would love it."

So, there's my answer then.

It was nearly two before she came back to the room, I heard her outside saying "Well, this is me. I um, would you, er... no. Not yet. Sorry." Then what sounded suspiciously like a kiss and a 'mmm' and the door opened and shut quickly.

She leaned against the door on the inside, her hands clasped to her head. I could sense some turmoil in her eyes.

"Oh, Jason. I just don't know. I had such a good time. The were, are all so lovely, but you...."

I sat on the side of the bed and watched as she took off the burgundy jacket and hung it in the big walk-in wardrobe, followed by the skirt and top.

She unclipped her bra and walked out in just a thong, still wearing her four-inch heels, and stood in front of the mirror checking out the view. She turned side on, then tried to get a view over her shoulder at her backside. As she faced me it was obvious she'd done some extensive tidying in the party area, the front of her thong was sheer, see-through in fact, and I could see she just had a tiny patch of hair at the front and everything else was completely smooth.

Taking a final look at her reflection she said, "Still got it. Looking good for thirty-six. I'd do me."

I called over "But you're not into girls, you'd best come and do me instead!" but the silent treatment was being prolonged, most likely because of the strop I'd thrown down in the meet 'n' greet.

She slipped into bed, a smile still on her lips. I was surprised she hadn't put her nighty on and was just lying in her thong. She gave a contented sounding groan, one hand slipping up to stroke her breasts. Slowly and sensually, she caressed her nipples, bringing them to sharp points. She twisted one, then the other, her eyes closed in delight.

Her back arched, her shoulders hard against the mattress, her bum taught and firm. As I watched longingly her other hand slipped down and pushed under the sheer front of her thong, I could see her slowly striking at the pink bud, watching it grow.

A sudden bend and twist and she was naked, fingers dancing across her swollen lips and clit. One, two dipped inside bringing out some wetness to enhance the sensations above, her hand moving faster as she started breathing more heavily, panting and sweating.

I leaned closer, she had two fingers driving deep into her pink depths, the folds bulging as she drove in, clinging to her as she pulled out, her other hand rubbing hard on her clit. Two fingers stroking, one each side, squeezing hard.

She gave a sharp squeal of pleasure and collapsed down, a delighted smile on her face. I crawled over to be next to her.

"Mmm, cold," she mumbled and pulled the covers over her.

I woke to a blinding flash and a hammering explosion, Abbie was awake and out of bed with the golden light streaming through a gap in the curtains, birds were chirping, and the skies were blue.

What was I dreaming about? Nope, gone.

She threw the curtains open, relishing the warmth as the sunlight hit her, silhouetting her body through the thin lacey nighty, I hadn't seen that before either, how much shopping had she done for this trip?

I lay in bed, hoping she might come back and show me again how much work she'd put into her waxing regime, but she looked at her watch and exclaimed, "Oh. Shit, breakfast. I'm due to meet them in ten minutes."

Proving she can get a move on when she wants to, eight minutes later the door clicked shut and she positively ran towards the lift, opting to trot down the stairs rather than wait. I followed in the lift, muttering about priorities and why couldn't she be as eager when it was something I wanted to do.

Things went downhill again when I got into the breakfast room (Mary Quant room). Nic, Roger and Patrick were at a table with a big sign in the middle saying "White Water rafting - All Day" and Abbie made a beeline for them.

Two other women had already joined the group. One was a short, quite well-padded woman with a low-cut top, massive cleavage, black bob, and bright red lips wearing a name tag that said 'Hannah.' The other was taller, around five-six. I'd have put her at early fifties but still looked fit and attractive, blonde highlights over a round face with bluey-grey eyes and a nice figure, although her arse was a bit on the generous side.

Feeling a bit better at (1) being judgemental about complete strangers and (2) Abbie being the most attractive one there, I cheered up a bit, until Nic leaned over, kissed Abbie on the cheek and asked how she'd slept, and he hoped she wasn't too lonely on her own.

"She wasn't on her own you twat," I hissed but Abbie had already jumped in saying she'd slept very well and hadn't needed anyone else to keep her company.

We stood in slightly awkward silence then the taller woman broke the spell by announcing "I'm Penny. So sorry, I forgot my name tag. Bad Penny, ha ha."

It seemed everyone was happy enough to take this as an excuse to gloss over Nic's faux pas and laughed along.

"What do you do Penny?" I think it was Patrick or it may have been, Oh I don't know, it just wasn't Nic.

"I'm a journalist, industrial mainly. I write for trade magazines mainly, with a bit of stuff in the business pages of the Guardian and BBC Online."

Wow she managed to be both interesting and dull in one move, smooth. I stuck my hands in my pockets and mooched off, as I went, I heard Abbie asking what magazines she wrote for, pricking my interest when she mentioned "Under Pressure" which was the trade mag I got at work, I'm Safety Manager at Bashir Hydraulics UK.

We manufacture presses and the like; HQ is in Rawalpindi, and I have a constant battle trying to get the senior management to accept that being in the UK means we must follow UK Health & Safety laws. I mostly win on the grounds that killing people in Britain is frowned upon by the courts, and the processes we use, if they went wrong, could take out half the building.

I was about to pipe up when Abbie did it for me. "Oh, I've still got some of them at home. I must check if there's anything by you in them, maybe you could sign a copy for me." That brought more laughter.

Full English was consumed by all present, a debate went around the table, and it was decided that white water rafting probably needed carbohydrate loading, although Hannah joked, she had been building up to it for a few years.

As lingering conversation dragged on over tea and toast Allegra turned up with an annoyingly handsome man in his mid-thirties, designer stubble, unkempt hair, Arran Sweater, smelt of wood, leather, and outdoors. The girls all melted and I'm not convinced Nic didn't flutter his eyelashes a bit as well.

"Hi, I'm Jake. I'm looking after you all today. We've got a couple of Land-Rovers outside to take you down to the river, Caroline's driving the other one. I'd like to be away in ten?"

Penny raised a hand, then looked embarrassed and took it down and asked, "What do we need to bring, or wear?"

Jake smiled an annoyingly attractive smile and said "Swimsuits is all you'll need. We've got towels, food, hot drinks and showers with shampoo and soap."

I crammed into the back of the second Land-Rover, Abbie was in the lead with Patrick, Nic and Roger. No surprises there then. The girls were chatting in the back, I listened in, not wanting to draw attention to my presence.

"Do you think they chose him because he's got that Ross Poldark windswept and sexy look about him?" mused Hannah.

Penny giggled, "Windswept and sexy? Do you fancy a bit of Jake? What was that song, Jake the Peg with his extra leg?"

Hannah gave a low grunt, "Too right. Well, that's why we're here isn't it? Find some prime Cornish beef?"

"Cornish? I was thinking I might like a bit of Italian."

A snort from Hannah echoed my own sentiments, "You'll be lucky. He seems to be homing in on Abigail. Not that I think she's that keen, but you know, younger, great figure, wealthy type, shame she's so nice or I could really hate her."

I was a bit taken aback by that, I mean, Hannah had missed the important thing getting in the way of Abbie being carried off by Nic. Married. To me, I'm right here for fuck's sake. Also, wealthy? I mean, I'm not poorly paid, but wealthy? No."

I sulked for the next twenty minutes as the four by four rattled along ever narrower roads until we reached a pair of caravans and a forty-foot container by a steep sided gorge.

We parked in front of the caravans with a squeak of brakes. Jake and Caroline called us into a semi-circle and did the standard routine of 'who's done this before (No one), who can't swim (Again, no one), who hasn't made a will yet,' (which fell surprisingly flat. I thought it was funny.)