Romance Is Not Dead

Chapter 1

The late spring sunset painted a large area of the hills surrounding two-thirds of the city and, as the setting sun dropped below the horizon, the disappearing multi colours on the hillsides faded in an enchanting restful display.

Kate Jones (31) drove her small German car into her designated side of her parent's garage and sighed, thinking it was nine days since her developing friendship with Steve Dunlop had ended.

Unexpectedly, he'd called on his pub night with the boys and said bluntly in a recorded message, "Sorry Kate, can't date you any more, another young female has tagged me and I'm besotted. Bye."

The brutality of that message had cut into Kate's heart. But she was now almost over it completely, aware that she and Steve hadn't professed their love and commitment although they'd been shagging furiously two nights a week and at weekends, therefore what was there to beef about?

Nothing, really apart that she had been thinking that Steve was the man for her and one naturally assumed that loyalty usually loyalty had a part to play.

Omigod, this meant she'd have to start all over again. Was it worth it? Was romance dead?

Actually, she rather believed she couldn't survive comfortably for too long without nooky and having the guy reaming her while whispering sweet nothings into her ear as if he meant it was rather comforting to the ego.

She groaned and considered another possible path ahead: There were always females around keen to find another female to cuddle, and perhaps engage in more. She just has to wait for such a connection with one of those women and be secretive about it.

Kate was aware that these days her parents didn't appear to take a great interest in one another, and some of her girlfriends had expressed similar opinions about romance being apparently absent in the lives of their parents.

Did it matter?

Well her parents appeared reasonable happy in their mundane co-existence,

At this stage in her life, Kate wasn't focused on becoming a mature person who was finished in maintaining personal fitness and was de-energising and slipping into armchair existence totally unaware of being awash in boredom.

"Save me," she muttered, thinking life was too short to fall into zombie-like living.

She wanted a life rich in dating, glamour, oozing with enjoyable sexual opportunity and the feeling of she had it all.

She rolled her eyes when imaging her report card to check on how she was progressing with those solid aspiration.

The sigh was heavy.

Her latest dumping was rudely committed but the second guy with the name of Steve. Also, she hadn't done splendidly in the romance stakes with Charles, Johnny and Anton. Tiger had been one of her not excessively, in her opinion, one-night-stands who'd gone before she'd committee his real name to memory.

Her mother Irene occasionally called her as 'a sweet girl' and yet Kate worried that she was a slut.

Kate frowned, thinking something just didn't add up. Were modern guys only interested in having access to pussy, or was there a secret process designed to retain any guy who kissed you, if that was your wish, that she didn't know about?

She'd asked several of her girlfriends for the secret but they'd denied there was one, as did her happily married older sister.

As for her mother, she told Kate that she had nothing to worry about, that she 'had it all' and frowned, claiming that she had to wait until two nights before her wedding to lose her virginity.

"Who was it, granddad?" Kate had asked in awe.

"No, you fool, it was your father-to-be. He claimed that excessive horniness was killing him."

Aware that masturbation as a weak answer to horniness had long been extensively practised by males and females long before her mother was 22, Kate was left pondering what one was the truth, which one of her parents-to-be had been excessively horny?

She sighed and went down for breakfast before going off to her usual Sunday morning run, rather later than other days.

The scene in the kitchen added heaviness to her heart. Her mother Irene stood staring out of the kitchen window, with a hand resting along on the back of a plump hip, while her father Peter was seated at the kitchen table with his head buried in the morning newspaper.

"Hi guys, what excitement is in store for you today," Kate said brightly.

Her father grunted good morning and her mother turned, displaying misty eyes and she said tiredly, "Hi dear, a great sleep?" as if great sleeps routinely eluded her.

"Hi, mum. If you are not sleeping well, you should try going for a run at evenings while it's still light outdoors."

"What, and ruin my back. No thank you. Porridge or muesli."

"Muesli please."

Same question, same answer, Mondays to Saturdays.

Whenever Kate was home on Sundays, she would take a cooked breakfast to her parents lazing in bed, and had done so for years. Their reaction remained the same: her father would grunt had she remembered the Sunday newspaper and her mother would exclaim as if it receiving breakfast in bed had never happened to her before. She would say, "Oh my word, breakfast in bed. What a surprise."

Kate would say something cheerful and walk out thinking for fuck sake folk, get a life.

On this Sunday morning, feeling particularly fit as she hadn't been out the previous night drinking and hopefully expected to be, err, tumbled, she ate her plate of stewed fruit on muesli slowly; left her cleared plate and coffee cup in the sink and instead of jogging around the perimeter of the park, she went on a power run to the centre of the park and slowed during the long haul up Spencer's Hill to the lookout.

It was only just after 7.45 and few people were about.

Near the Spencer's Lookout at the summit, she felt she was practically floating as she overtook a struggling guy almost bent over in half.

"Good morning, what a beautiful day," she panted lightly and the dedicated young drunk or brave asthmatic mumbled a gasping reply.

She stood, breathing a little heavily, one running shoe up on the top of the low stone wall admiring the scene below and taking in the glitter coming off Sunderland River from the still low-rising sun.

It was a favourite resting spot for runners and staggering older walkers tackling the summit ascent and the guy she'd just passed came up and sat, blowing like a beached whale.

"Asthma?" she asked sympathetically, choosing the kinder option of the two earlier thoughts.

"Nah," he wheezed. "Wild party last night."

She scolded that he ought to drink less.

"Three beers are enough per session for me

"What was it then?"

"The girls."

"What, did they beat and rob you?"

"I would have been left in better shape if that had beaten me. No, these two randy women had their way with me."

"Omigod, you should keep away from wild women."

He nodded and said that had been his thought that morning.

"My problem is nice younger women are a scarcity these days, you know, ones that you can comfortably take home to meet the folk."

She nodded understandably and asked how old he was and he said 26.

"Oh, too bad."

"Why?"

"Because I'm 31 and possibly fit the category of being nice."

He sniffed and said yeah, that was a pity.

"Got your phone on you?"

He nodded.

"Hand it to me and I'll enter my number in case you have a rethink about me."

"Okay," he said dully, and spent time frisking himself and finally found it in the logical spot, back right-hand pocket of his running shorts.

She handed it back and asked saucily did he require mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"Do you mean a kiss?"

"Bye," she said, turning and running off and called, "Little wonder those two females double screwed you last night. Your ambitions are obviously well amiss and you got what you deserved. Lean backwards to open your lungs fully, and breathe deeply and expel slowly."

He replied, sounding confused, "Ah, right. I apologize for being whatever you said."

The guy watched the female glide away, thinking great swinging butt. After gaining quite relief from deep breathing, he pulled out his phone and opened Contacts and groaned. Where would whoever be among the huge number of entries. In desperation he made a stab and looked up Nice Girl, knowing he had no such entry.

It was there now, Nice Girl.

Wearily he eyed her name, Kate Jones. Oh, a no-nonsense name for a no-nonsense bearer.

He took the plunge and called the number.

"Kate speaking."

"I'm still on the summit."

"Oh, it's you. Your voice sounds clearer now."

"Yeah, thanks to you. May I date you Friday night?"

Surprised, she said, "This is a bit sudden?"

"Apologies, I'll call you back next year," he said and cut the call and stared at his phone woefully. God, he could be so impulsive at times. And stupid.

The phone in his hand activated.

"Yes."

"It's Kate, was that you being impulsively stupid?"

He couldn't believe that she could be so accurate.

He said his name was Steve Whitman and added, "Um, you judged me as possessing misplaced humour, yes?"

"Actually, I could have throttled you as being the architect of your mindless misery and then I thought at least you have dry humour and decided to give you a shot at me, with me being a nice girl. Perhaps capable of being endearing, might best describe you."

"That's probably rather accurate, Kate."

"And that's well expressed for a guy stupid enough to allow two women to monster him. Meet me at Gloria's bar, around 6.30 this Friday."

Click.

Staring at the phone nonplussed, Steve thought wasn't it the guy who was supposed to make the date? Oh well, she appeared to have everything going for her. On the other hand, the brief meeting and then phone conversations with her had left him feeling somewhat confused.

* * *

Steve walked into the bar apprehensively. It was rather quiet, as most of the noisy office workers had left for home.

He spotted her, leaning back in her bar stool against the bar, staring at him. Her dark short hair was now frizzy, a large gold ornament hung over the gold and black top, resting between the cute twin humps, belly bare, and she wore white mid-calf tights.

He admired her for dressing young, looking about his age of 25, although she was his senior by five years. He wondered what his parents would say it they met her before she dumped him. He recalled his mother Courtney was panicking a few months ago when he began dating a girl who'd just turned 19.

Dressed in blue jeans, opened-neck white shirt and a tailored jacket, he said hi and was ignored.

Startled, he said, "Kate, it's me, Steve Whitman."

"Omigod, forgive me. You were red-faced, panting and looked a little haggard when we last met."

Steve was suspicious, wondering was she serious or was that the shadow of a smile he could see lurking. If she was teasing, then she was accomplished at it.

"This is me at my best, Steve Whitman of Pleasant Point, leading-hand boat builder."

"You must be well-heeled to be living at Pleasant Point."

"I live with my parents who manage more than okay financially. They own Prestige Financial Consulting Services and also Johansson Point Boatyard, where my older brother, the boat building manager, and I are employed."

"Please sit and order," she said, turning to face the bar. "Are there other brothers and sisters?"

"One sister, who's almost your age. She's a hairdresser at Crosscut."

"Omigod, she must be good," Kate said. "Crosscut does the hair for this city's rich and famous."

He shrugged and said it helped her to land that position that their mother was half-owner of Crosscut in partnership with Claire St John.

Steve ordered a Vodka on ice and Kate said to the bartender, "Charge it to my tab Felicity; he has trouble looking after himself."

Steve's hands on the bar clenched slightly to indicate a strangulation motion too obscure to notice. But he was wrong.

"Do you have arthritis in your fingers?"

"What, at my age? What prompted that misconception?"

"Oh nothing. I suppose my mind must have become diverted."

He flushed. Fuck, she had picked up on him subtly mimicking a strangler.

"Why aren't you a boss at the boatyard like your brother?"

"Rex has had tons more experience than me, going to the yard straight out of high school and completing a largely on-line trade training course over his first three years. I took a 4-year study course and gained my Yacht and Marine Design degree and then and then spent 18 months working in a boatyard in Denmark before returning home and joining my brother's team."

"Impressive, and so what do you wish to do after a couple of drinks?"

"Oh, I'm easy."

"I'm sure you are, as those two females found out last weekend. What about dinner?"

"I-I might head home instead."

"For goodness sake, Steve, get used to it; you gave me the ammo by telling me about being with those two wenches. Teasing comes naturally to me and in your case, I'll try to bite back on it."

"Thanks, dinner would be great and please don't become too restrained with your teasing as I'll become used to you. You must understand, I've been rather on the left foot since we met on Spencer's Hill."

"Yes, and I accept I have helped by adding my sly jibes to the mix."

She went to explain and saw the fool couldn't conceal his grin.

"Touché," she said, and pressed her knee against him and was surprised that he almost fell backwards in shock.

"What is it?"

"You touched me, intimately."

"Yes."

"I...I..."

"What?"

"I hadn't expected any intimacy so soon, that's all."

"Oh, you expect intimacy, if any, to run by the clock or perhaps the calendar?"

"Um, no, of course not."

"Then press your knee against mine, Steve. That's if you feel up to it."

He thumped a knee against her knee, and held it steady.

"Kate, you are like no other nubile female I've ever met."

"Is that good?"

"It's wonderful and I feel good about it?"

That was the end of intimacy for the time being and after two drinks, they decided to eat at a Thai Restaurant and, because it was still early, they had the choice of several tables to sit at and choose the rear-most vacant one.

After their tangy Gewürztraminer wine was served, Kate said she owed Steve an apology.

"I've perhaps pressured you a little."

Grinning, he said perhaps a little.

"The truth is, I've been keen to make a favourable impression and quickly. And yet I have difficulty holding on to any guy who dates for long and I have no idea why this is so."

He nodded sagely and said, "Do you feel that those who move on rather quickly might feel you are too much for them?"

"Omigod, Kate said, looking at Steve as if he'd just revealed next week's winning lotto number combination to her. "You probably are right. I mean I've already unnerved you a couple of times, perhaps more. I've been super competitive since me early teens, at school and university and in three of the last four seasons, I've taken the same award presented by the social women's soccer team I play in four times, being named as the Most Competitive Player."

"Ah, well with that information perhaps my assumption about why you may have scared off some of your dates is correct. You know, ironically, I've been dropped by females I've dated for being too woman-shy and being too eager to please and even too-well mannered."

"Omigod, we could end up as regular dating partners because isn't it said the opposite attract. Steve, you could end up regularly placing your shoes under my bed."

"But not too soon," he said nervously, his eyes appearing to enlarge.

"Don't despair, help is here," Kate said. "I promise to 'tai ho' on my eagerness to have sex with you and telling you what to wear and all that other stuff I believe any guy would find helpful."

"I enjoy having sex, Kate."

"Okay, just remember to push the pace on that one and keep in mind that I'm not shy about having sex."

"Great, I'll put that as a daily reminder on my phone calendar."

"Good boy."

He said being called a boy for any guy from their late teens was considered by the recipients to be unacceptable.

Kate said not to worry and for parity, he could call her a girl as an endearment.

They had a lovely evening, and enjoyed kissing when they settled into his pick-up for the short drive to her parent's gated community, called Kingsland. Kate said she would walk in to avoid him having to go through security.

Steve said fine and touched one of her breasts tentatively and said they appeared real.

She ignored that and said, "I've enjoyed your company immensely."

"I have perhaps enjoyed it even more so," he said. "I feel it's been a new awakening for me."

She guessed what he might mean by that and said, "In that case don't masturbate too wildly tonight otherwise you might keep your parents and sister awake."

"Kate, I really don't think..."

"I know, sorry," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek and jumped out and used her cell phone to open the footpath security gate and disappeared after turning to wave.

* * *

Steve entered the family home at Pleasant Point and found his parents and sister Cassie watching a fashion parade on TV.

Courtney sniffed after greeting her son. She said she could smell expensive perfume and asked had he been on a date with a woman who was a bit classier than those he usually ran about with.

"Yeah."

"Please say yes."

"Yes, and she's probably the best date I've ever had."

"Did she allow you to have sex with her?"

"No, she's too classy to allow that. I'm thinking I'll have to wait weeks if not months before I can get that far with her."

Steve's father Vincent entering the room and hearing that, said it was time that Steve had met a female who had style and sounded if she could make him toe the line.

Courtney asked, "What's her name."

"Kate Jones."

"Well the name is common."

The slumping Cassie sat up with a start and said, "Omigod, how old is she?"

"Thirty-one."

Steve's parents glared at him and then looked astonished when Cassie said excitedly, "Then if she is who I think she is she's probably the best women's soccer player within a least 100 miles of here. Does she live at Kingsland?"

"Yes."

"Then she is Kate Jones the outstanding soccer player and she's finishing off her part-times studies for her doctorate for her business studies and doing research for her thesis. What's more, her mother Irene is one of my regular clients. Mum, you probably know Irene Jones as she reputedly the best divorce lawyer in the city and is bound to be a member of your professional and business women's club,"

"Yes, I know her well, she was my vice-president and has succeeded me as president of the club. He husband Peter is leading blue water yachtsman. We must invite them over with a request that they bring her daughter so I can look her over."

"Don't bother mum, she's 31 and you'll say she's too old for you."

"Nonsense, I only made that fuss last year when I discovered you were dating that girl not long out of school uniform."

"Well, you have been warned mum. She won't be bullied in the manner you have treated most of my girlfriends who have been invited here and who ignored my pleas not show up. If you won't back off when she asks, she's likely to tell you to get fucked."

Courtney turned white, looking horrified and Vincent bellowed, "How dare you talk to your mother like that. Apologise immediately."

"No way dad, adults in this house have always been permitted the freedom of speech and I was only saying how it's likely to be. Mum, I plead with you, don't invite Kate here."

"Go to your suite, you brute. I make my own decisions."

Cassie had laid back pulling a cushion over her mouth and was laughing herself silly.