"I'm getting too old for this cricket lark," pronounced Tony Archer as he shambled into the living-room and flung himself down on a chair.
"You mean too old for the post-nets drinking," came the response, in a soft Welsh lilt, from his small dark wife, Pat.
"Not at all!" said Tony, grinning. "That's the only thing that keeps me going!"
Tony was medium-size, with fair thinning hair and a narrow face with a bony prominent nose. His work on the farm, and his cricket, kept him lean and tanned.
"Who was there?" asked Pat, with just a little more than the usual non-committal interest in her voice.
"At nets? Oh, just the usual – David, Eddy, Tommy, William, Sid, Neil - you know. And Roy, of course."
Pat registered the momentary shadow flitting across Tony's face at the mention of Roy Tucker. Tony and Pat's elder son, John, had died in a farm accident just over two years ago, at the age of twenty. Roy had been his best friend and, just three weeks previously, had married Hayley Jordan, a lovely girl who had been John's girlfriend – and, probably, his future wife – at the time of John's untimely death.
They had slowly come to terms with the loss of their son, but it had been hard to stand by and watch the growing love between Hayley and Roy, while their own close relationship with Hayley had slipped further and further into the background. They had attended the wedding, along with the rest of the village, but their feelings as they watched the radiant bride on the arm of her new husband had been very mixed.
"How was Roy – after his honeymoon?" she asked.
"Oh, full of beans," replied Tony, unable to keep a touch of bitterness out of his voice. "What man wouldn't be, after two weeks in a hotel bedroom with Hayley?"
"And what woman?" murmured Pat. Tony, narrowing his eyes, glanced across at his wife. In her early days, as a radical left-wing student, Pat had sampled most human experiences and had never tried to conceal her enjoyment, from her husband, of her not infrequent visits to the Isle of Lesbos. Like most men, Tony was aroused by the thought of woman-on-woman sexual encounters and had always encouraged his wife to describe her past adventures as graphically as possible.
"Meaning – someone not a million miles away?" he guessed, feeling a stirring in his loins as he spoke.
"Well, what do you think?" said Pat, unfolding herself from the settee and coming over to sit on the arm of Tony's chair. Her fingers ruffled his tousled thatch absent-mindedly. "She looked good enough to eat in that wedding-dress."
"Even better out of it, I should think," sighed her husband.
There was a short silence, then Pat took a deep breath and seemed about to speak, then lapsed into silence again.
"What were you going to say?" asked Tony.
"Oh, nothing," replied his wife, then, before Tony could say any more, suddenly left the room and Tony could hear her running up the stairs. A worried frown on his face, Tony stayed where he was. Pat had had a very bad time after John's death, which she had shared with Hayley, and Tony wondered if their discussion had sparked an emotional reaction in her. He felt even more guilty about the erection their speculation about Hayley in, and out, of her wedding dress, had aroused in him.
Then Pat appeared at the living-room door, clutching an envelope in her hand. The colour in her cheeks was high, and her eyes were bright. She went back to the settee and sat down, leaning forward, facing her husband, the envelope clutched in both hands.
"Tony," she said, a little breathlessly, then stopped.
"What is it?" he replied, also leaning forward in his chair. "What's in that envelope?"
She ignored his question. "How do you feel, now – about Hayley? I mean, now that we're no longer really part of her life – not her potential parents-in-law, any more?"
Well," said Tony. "I'm still very fond of her – and I accept she had to … move on, as it were, after John. After all, she's a young woman – and a very attractive one. We couldn't expect her to – well, you know. But things definitely aren't the same as they used to be."
"And what if you saw her now, for the first time? Say she walked into the Bull while you were having a pint? What would be your first thought?"
Tony gave a little embarrassed laugh. He knew only too well what the answer to that question would be. With her long auburn hair, her wide brown eyes, her full-lipped generous mouth, her high firm breasts, her narrow waist above wide, flaring hips, set at the top of long shapely legs, Hayley sparked the same natural reaction in every man who clapped eyes on her. Tony had had enough difficulty suppressing it when she had been his son's girlfriend.
In fact, one of his first thoughts, once he had accepted the fact of John's death, had been a fervent prayer that his son, before he died, had had a full sexual relationship with Hayley. It was dreadful for any man to die a virgin – to have missed out on a stunner like Hayley Jordan would have been too sad for words!
"Well?" demanded Pat, her eyes glittering. Tony shrugged and smiled, weakly.
"OK," she said. "I'll make it easy for you – I'd be thinking exactly the same. I'd be wondering what she looked like – stripped naked. I'd be wondering what her tits would feel like in my hands, whether her nipples would rise as I kissed them, what her pubic bush looked like, whether she had a responsive clit – and how she would sound when she had an orgasm with my fingers plunging between her open thighs."
She had crossed the floor by now and was kneeling in front of her husband, her hand caressing his erection on top of his trousers. Tony was groaning, his hand dipping down Pat's open shirt, squeezing her small, hard-nippled breast.
Not looking at him, she resumed talking.
"I always hoped John had screwed her, you know. It would be such a shame if he had died, without ...... "
"Me, too," muttered Tony. "I'd hate to think Roy Tucker had been the first."
"Well, he wasn't!" announced Pat, triumphantly. "Our boy gave her a bloody good seeing-to. Roy's got a lot to live up to!"
Tony knew the envelope held the key to this pronouncement, but he bided his time. Pat would tell him in her own time, in her own way. He was overjoyed to hear her say that she, like him, had prayed that John had fucked his lovely Hayley before his life had been cut short – and that she knew that he had.
"You remember when we redecorated John's room just before Christmas?" Pat went on. Of course Tony remembered – it had been a symbolic, cathartic gesture which had caused them both no little pain.
"Well, when I was clearing it out beforehand, I dismantled an old chest of drawers and … and I came across those in the back of it," Pat said, her hand clutching her husband's groin tightly. "Before you look at them, though – just, be prepared. They're photographs, and John's in them. They were taken on that Greek holiday they had the summer before – before ...... "
Tony nodded and, hand shaking, took the envelope from Pat. As he did so, she stood up and retreated to the settee, her eyes fixed on him. Tony took a deep breath and lifted the flap of the envelope. It was not sealed. Two photographs slid out, face down, into his hand. He checked that the envelope was empty and it fluttered down to the carpet.
He turned over one of the pictures and his eyes widened in shock and astonishment. The setting was hotel bedroom. His son, John, was standing, naked, supporting himself by his hands leaning against a dressing-table. He was smiling down at the camera. Kneeling in front of him was Hayley. She, too, was completely naked and the top third of John's erect penis was in her mouth. Her face, too, was turned towards the camera and her lips were parted in as wide a smile as she could contrive, under the circumstances. One hand was holding her hair back from her face, the other lightly gripping the base of John's penis. Her breasts were obscured by her elbows, but her delectable bottom jutted enticingly towards the camera, milky-white against the golden tan of her thighs and belly.
"Jesus!" he breathed. He was conscious that he ought to be affected by the hitherto unseen picture of his dead son, but he could not pull his eyes from the delicious form of the lovely girl in front of him. Tearing his eyes away, he turned over the second photograph.
It featured the same dressing-table but, this time, it was Hayley who was using it to support herself. She was bent forward, thighs spread wide, hands on the dressing-table, arms straight. Once again, her head was turned to the camera and she was attempting a smile. Behind her, John was leaning forward, his hands clasped round the girl's breasts, his rock-hard penis halfway into her spread vagina. He, too, was turned towards the camera, but his attempt to smile was doomed to failure. His mouth was forced open in a mirthless grin and he was obviously in the grip of an imminent orgasm.
Tony spread the pictures on his thigh and looked back and forth at them. Somehow, Pat had re-crossed the carpet and was sitting on the arm of his chair again.
"Jesus!" he said, again, his hand reaching up and clutching hers.
