Chapter 12
The months passed and the seasons changed, yet the passion and love between Beth and Allan merely grew, their relationship strengthening like your grip on the arm of the dentists chair. Infidelities were ignored and love blossomed.
Interestingly enough, the fantasies and role plays continued, although with a more subdued approach but the consequential result was the same. Fucking good sex! Who needed soft swing anyway?
Beth and Allan shagged as though their lives depended on it, that Oxygen was second only to ravishing each other's bodies at any conceivable opportunity. And they took most opportunities. The sauna at a well known plush hotel in Hinckley was probably their most adventurous, the glass door from the pine-wood sauna room allowing passers by wandering to and from the pool an ideal angle to see Allan enter Beth from behind, lifting her bra top over her globes and fondling her tits whilst pounding her cunt.
Or the event of a quiet drink one Sunday afternoon by the river Avon when Beth had given Allan a hand (or a hand job to be more precise) under the picnic table at a local pub.
Beth had grown in confidence, wearing skimpy underwear was once something kept simply in the bedroom but recently, Beth had taken to wearing many of the items of lingerie Allan had bought her as everyday underwear items. These, combined with her usual wardrobe of sexy clothing, had increased her sexuality, made her even more of a sex icon as they wandered round the Bull-ring shopping centre on a Saturday or as they strolled around many of the local beauty spots. She even looked dashing when she went with Allan to watch the football, despite her teasing Allan that his favourite soccer team should be called "Aston Villa nil!"
It was their similar tastes to life in general, their similar sense of humour and their total devotion to each other that set them apart from the crowd. Their relationship had become stronger, their love had evolved into total bonding and they were inseparable. Not to say they didn't have their own friends and socialised separately, but they needed each other as much as a junkie craves crack. Except Allan craved a different sort of crack! Beth's!
Sure, they had their spells of bickering as well, which is normal and healthy in any type of relationship. It only added to the strength of their relationship and their love flourished.
It was a cold and miserable Saturday morning and Beth had surfaced from her slumber, donning a dressing gown and picking the post from the door mat.
She opened the white envelope because it didn't look like the brown envelopes which were usually a demand for money. It was a wedding invitation. A cousin was getting married in Jamaica. Wow! Both she and Allan were invited. Beth had yearned to go to the Caribbean and this was the perfect opportunity.
Beth's mind began to wander, visions of silver sand and crystal clear water, the sound of jet ski's and the taste of coconut rum, a gentle breeze blowing in over the Gulf cooling the effects of the sun on her scantily clad body. Heaven!
It would be as far away from the Midlands of Britain as she could want to be, a week or two of relaxation without the local pressures of work and routine. She'd heard there were some pretty good clubs out there, too as the locals were so chilled out which was in total contrast to the climate. Visions of tall local lads dressed in sleeveless shirts playing basketball flitted into her mind, the taste of freshly caught local fish. In Beth's mind, she'd already landed and cleared customs!
A change of scenery would be just what she needed right now, a chance to catch up on some reading, writing letters, re-assembling her thoughts. The last few months had been a period Beth would rather not have happened yet somehow, she was pleased that it had, the result having moulded her attitude and approach beyond previous belief. What the heck was wrong with her? Nothing was wrong. But she did feel different. Mentally different, that is.
Confidence was always part of her personality yet she seemed truly confident, more definite in her total approach to life. Had she just been putting on an act, pretending to be confident? Beth still couldn't work it out in her own mind, but whatever the result, she felt a million dollars. Being totally infatuated with her husband may well have had something to do with it.
Beth placed the invitation back in the envelope as she padded into the kitchen and absent mindedly switched the kettle on, almost like she was on auto pilot. Her body was here in the kitchen but her mind was thousands of miles away, soaking up the sun on the beach.
She sat at the breakfast bar, gazing out of the window, the dull overcast clouds making the Saturday morning gloomy, the remnants of the previous shower still dripping down the kitchen window, endeavouring to bring Beth back to reality. She pulled a mild grimace on her face as her warped mind mulled over the weather forecast from the previous evening, the forecaster describing the general synopsis as a large depression over the region. She laughed to herself but the laugh had no humour in it. Depression summed up not just the weather but her emotions at that moment. Beth turned the envelope in her hand over and over on the surface of the table and her smile returned but this time, with genuine delight.
"Jamaica" she whispered to herself. "Jamaica". Her eyes glazed over in her daydream, the rivulets of rain on the window pane no longer visible, her mind saw beyond the glass, beyond the visible horizon. Palm trees and lush hills, the sound of distant reggae music and motorcycles rung through her ears, drowning out the sound of the electric kettle boiling and switching itself off.
Allan surfaced half an hour later, the vacant space in his bed forcing him to go in search of the woman who told him "I do". By this time, Beth was in a buoyant mood, swanning around the kitchen like Torvill and Dean. The CD player played a selection of classic Bob Marley tunes and Beth joyfully busied herself in the kitchen, creating some form of ginger cake judging by the aroma.
"What's all this, then?" Allan asked, scratching his testicles as he yawned.
"You sure know how to turn a woman on" Beth joked, taking in his unkempt hair. It's never like that in the Hollywood movies, everyone has perfect hair and make up, even after a night of passion. And she certainly couldn't imagine Patrick Swayzee or Hugh Grant rubbing their balls!
Allan grunted and sat at the breakfast bar, wishing he could reach the CD player and turn the music down a bit. He'd had a few drinks the night before and maybe one or two too many.
