Ch. 10 to 13

This follow-on from Satisfaction Parts 1 and 2. Chs. 1-9 puts Glen in contact with Daphne and later Carol. Their stories are shared.

All my caveats expressed the start of Part 1 continue to apply this part.

You'll get a context to this by reading Part 1 first. Enjoy.

Chapter 10

Daphne

"I hear you aced your first assignment." Wendy sounded pleased.

"Yes. Ruth is quite a character. I like her very much. I can understand why she is so popular."

"I bet. She has two lovely daughters, and the grandchildren are delightful. Did you meet them?"

Glen had to keep a straight face. He couldn't let his shit-eating grin come through in his voice.

"No. I didn't meet them." He decided to slip in, out of wickedness, "But Ruth thought I'd get on well with Amy. Who's next?"

"How about Abby?"

"Whoever."

"I'll get her to call you."

Glen worried, "Do you know if Daphne contacted and briefed Janice?"

"Why don't you call her yourself? Maybe go with her next. And we'll slip Abby down in the rotation."

"Sounds like a plan. Give me the number."

Wendy looked up the number and relayed the information.

Glen called Daphne. "Wendy gave me your number. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"First off, have you been in contact with Jan?"

"Yes. We've been back and forth by email. She's now in Egypt, would you believe?"

"I'm prepared to believe anything about Jan. Did you tell her about the stories?"

"Yes. She was very surprised and delighted." Daphne was silent for a brief time and Glen wondered if the connection had been dropped. "For a moment there I must admit that I thought of keeping you on the edge about that. I've somehow lost my ability to tease without Jan being around. I usually paint her portrait in the summer and have a good time."

"Talking about flirting...oops teasing, I am due to have shot at which is your story. Can I come over sometime?"

"I'd prefer to get out of the house. Can we meet for dinner or I can come over to your place, or both?"

"I like the idea of dinner with you and then coming back here for dessert and a private chat, bearing in mind the subject."

"The day after tomorrow would work for me. Text me. You can send me where we will meet and at what time."

Glen nodded to himself, "Got it. I'll be in touch."

Immediately after they ended their conversation, Glen contacted Luigi's and made a reservation for seven o'clock. He then conveyed the details to Daphne. He received an immediate reply.

"Luigi's, wow. Excellent. Can we make it for six instead of seven?" Glen made the adjustment with the restaurant and advised Daphne the date was for six.

They met outside Luigi's. Glen arrived ten minutes early, just beating Daphne who was also early. Glen gave her a quick greeting hug. The maître d' recognized Glen and welcomed him back before escorting them to the same discrete table he had given Glen before.

After the wine waiter had descended on them and taken their order, Daphne straightened her back for moment and asked, "Which one?"

"Which what?' Glen was momentarily off-kilter.

"Which story was mine? Let's get this over with. If you are wrong, I will not confirm, and you can have a second go later after dinner. I'm giving you a free pass. Please tell me what you think. How you went about deciding which was whose?"

"Well. It's tricky. First off there are two stories involving artists. I looked at each story again and try to get a sense of the mood of the story, if that's the right term. Then I look at the characters and what they do and where the story is located. By a process of assigning one of the stories with an art teacher in it to another of your cohort by a process of elimination I narrowed one story down to you."

Daphne leaned forward. "What did my story reveal?"

"First off there's the strong artist connection. That shows up in the title. And a page-boy haircut just like yours. You can see that?"

"Sure."

"I was puzzled by Elly's take-charge element, though. I never saw you that way. On the other hand, if you are not the one giving the orders maybe you are one to take them. A mild submissive. I went with this idea. My question: did I get that right?"

"Submissive. Don't think so. Never thought about it. Certainly not in the classroom. The kids would eat me alive. Although I have been accused of being a pleaser. Not a great fan of confrontation. I'm a go with the flow type. Does that make me submissive?"

"Maybe submissive is too strong. Pleaser sounds about right. My clincher was the fact your hubby is an accountant."

"How could you possibly know that? You been stalking me?"

"Don't underestimate the chatter in the staff room. I remember a couple of our fellow teachers talking about using your husband to do their income taxes. Dada...my big reveal is that I'm pitching your story as being

For Art's Sake

. Am I right?" Glen's heart sank as he looked at Daphne's stoical expression. He so wanted to be right.

After holding her face motionless and shaking her head from side to side for at least ten seconds, Daphne broke into a wide grin. "Gotcha. Spot on. I'm so glad you identified it. What do you think?"

It was Glen's turn to play possum for a few moments before bursting into laughter. "Bitch. That is one hot story. Clever too. I picked up on the fact you did not use one dirty word. Very prim."

"Oh, I modelled Elly in the story on a friend. You know her."

"Jan. No?"

Daphne made herself clear. "I thought you'd experienced her take-no-prisoners approach, clueless."

"She told you?" Now Glen was further blindsided by Jan. "Is nothing sacred in this town?"

"We are closer than you realize. She told me about the best-ever end-of-term party you had together. You're lucky I didn't drop in on her end-of-year solitary bottle of wine consumption as I have on many occasions in the past. Sorry I didn't, now."

"Really?" Glen wondered if she was saying what he thought she was saying.

"We'll get to that. Let's order." The waiter had arrived at the table.

The conversation drifted onto their common ground -- school and teaching and all that makes for an education. As they wound up their main course Daphne inquired, "Dessert and coffee at your place?"

"Yes. Almost. Cheese and coffee."

"Better still."

Daphne turned to Glen as soon as they closed his front door. "I have to be home by eleven at the latest. That's why I asked for the earlier meal. I'd like a quick coffee and maybe a corner of cheese. Then I 'd like the same no commitment treatment you gave Jan. Nothing fancy, just hard and fast. No rationale, no questions. Deal?"

Glen thought this was getting weirder and weirder. He thought about Jan and Ruth jumping his bones after years of abstinence. He found it incredulous that here was another church going woman wanted him for sex. "That's not necessary. Why would you want to fuck? You're happily married. Just so you know, it's not part of the quid pro quo. You really want to?"

"Look. I have a happy marriage that's gone stale in the sex department. Once a month, if I'm lucky, with a wham bam thank you ma'am session. He's a great provider, does the dishes, cooks some meals and even vacuums occasionally. He's either got a girlfriend somewhere or he's getting impotent. I get horny and my toys leave something to be desired. That something is a man with a good cock. You're him buster."

"Oh, I get it. I think." It was Glen's turn to put some tension in the situation. He paused and looked dour before breaking into a broad grin.

"Ok, you have a deal. It's seven fifteen now. Finish our coffee and cheese by seven thirty and then we go to my bedroom and fuck for almost three hours before you shower and leave to drive home." His necessity to structure the evening for Daphne flowed from his unease. He shook himself and thought "what the hell".

"If you think you're good for three hours you should be magnificent for two and a half hours. I'd like to leave a bit more time to clean up and get home before my self-imposed curfew. And nothing is said about this except to Jan. I'll be telling her anyway. It's great doing business with you. At some point I'd like to paint you, naked." She was grinning like a cat who'd gotten the cream. She leaned into Glen and kissed him full on the lips.

"Coffee first."

The evening went totally according to their mutual plan. They screwed and licked and sucked until each was fully satisfied. Glen lost himself in the animalistic rutting until he was sated. As Daphne showered and dressed, he experienced a passing wave of guilt about cuckolding her husband. He knew he could have declined the offer but didn't.

The only surprise was as Daphne turned back on the front step as she was leaving and said over her shoulder, "Until the next time."

Chapter 11

Daphne's story

For Art's Sake

Arthur was momentarily puzzled as he entered the living room when his wife, Vicky, exclaimed, "Ah, he's here." She looked to be alone in the room.

The baffling comment was quickly explained as she continued, "Meet Eleanor."

A tall woman rose from her hidden position on the wing-backed chair that faced away from the door. The first Arthur ever saw of Eleanor was the sweep of a pageboy cut of light blonde hair as she stood with her back to him. As she turned, she smiled with her head leaning slightly to one side. She navigated her way around the chair, held out her hand and spoke, "Call me Elly. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

Arthur's attention was immediately caught by the sparkle in her light blue eyes. Her relaxed smile showed perfect white teeth. He shook her hand feeling the firm grip of a confident woman.

"A pleasure to meet you too. Please do sit." Arthur gestured and sat on the sofa between the two women on the chairs either side of him. He looked over at his wife, "How do you know each other?"

"Through the book club. Frances introduced Elly to our little group. You remember Frances? She taught English at the high school, retired and then came out of retirement to teach for a couple of years at the new girl's Academy up on the hill. That's where Frances and Elly met. Elly teaches art at the Academy. She's an artist. Being new to town, Frances took Elly under her wing."

Victoria paused for a moment half realizing she was rushing and overexplaining. "That's how I met her," nodding towards Elly.

Arthur somehow felt he was being patronized by the involved explanation but set it aside and turned to Eleanor to push the conversation forward. "Elly, how are you finding it here?"

"No complaints at all. In fact, I'm loving it. Lovely location -- I love the sea. The surrounding area is also very pretty. I've met so many great people already. I feel I've landed in a very good place."

"Renting?" Arthur was curious as to whether Elly was just passing through before moving on. He wondered if Vicky was just wasting her time and effort on picking up another casual stray friend. He always worried that she did not develop deep friendships.

"Renting? No. Never. Bought a small place near the sea, just out of town to the west. One of the rooms is perfect as a studio."

Arthur looked closely at Elly. She was here to stay. He reassessed.

He quickly scanned her more closely. The pageboy haircut was swept behind her ears. She sported two piercings with studs in the helix of each of her small ears. Heavy hanging silver, or maybe platinum, garnet earrings tugged on her ear lobes. She was wearing a wide-necked white, embroidered peasant blouse that was drooped low over one shoulder. He noted no bra strap. A large weighty necklace, which matched the earrings, rested between what appeared to be generously sized breasts. A full floral skirt hung well below the knees covering most of her long legs. She wore flat heeled red shoes on her small feet.

Elly knowingly smiled to herself under the appraising gaze. This was not new to her.

Arthur pulled his attention back into the present with a manufactured cough before inquiring, "May I ask what you like to paint? Watercolor?"

Elly did not seem put out by the scrutiny she had been under. She quickly shot back. "Never watercolor. Ever. Just oils, acrylic and encaustic. Oh, some charcoal as well ink and graphite sketches. As for subjects: almost anything. Not too keen on regular or even urban landscapes. Love marinas and boats and will consider characterful houses and barns though. Mainly portraits including pets, figurative work, some abstract and, of course, still life."

"Wow. That's quite a range."

"My work is considered a bit too eclectic for most galleries. They tend to like a singular voice. If that style sells all they then want is a repetition of that artistic voice."

Arthur listened to the small insight Elly had just given into gallery practices. He paused as he debated with himself before saying, "Did she tell you? Vicky paints." He was proud of his wife's efforts.

Arthur looked his wife. She frowned and shook her head. Wrong move.

Vicky blushed and jumped in with touch of exasperation in her voice, "Oh, Arthur. I'm no artist. I'm a rank amateur. I just splash around in acrylics."

Looking at Vicky, Elly smiled, "It's likely no one has ever told you that you cannot be wrong in art. But it's true. Really. Believe me." She looked Vicky in the eyes and nodded her head for emphasis.

She continued," You must show me your work. I'm a bit of a hard critic about the technical side ­-- but not content -- you'll find I'm forthright and honest. Maybe I can give you some hints, if you are interested, that is. This is not a freebie though, as payment for coaching, you can sit for me. How about that?"

Arthur saw Vicky's earlier blush deepened to a noticeable red flush in her cheeks. He found that strange. He couldn't recall the last time she had blushed like that.

"No. I'm not good enough to be considered anything like an artist." Vicky sounded flustered.

Arthur pressed with a slight edge to his voice, "Come on Vicky. You're much more talented than you are making out. Anyway, Elly promised an honest appraisal. Let her be the judge."

Elly felt the tension rising between her hosts and was uncomfortable. She looked at her watch and stood. "Oh, my! I'm sorry I have to go. The time has passed so quickly."

She addressed Vicky, "I insist on getting a look at your work Vicky. I'll call you to make a date to come over again, if that's alright with you. I'll also bring a sketchbook, if you'll sit for me. I'll call you to set up a time. OK?'

Vicky gave a resigned sigh, "OK. You two, you win."

Looking at Elly, Vicky offered, "Give me a call. Art stuff aside, I'd like to get to know you better."

They all rose. Elly shook Arthur's hand and gave Vicky a hug as they made their way outside.

Elly bent over and pulled the back hem of her full skirt forward between her legs to tuck it into the front of her waistband. She mounted her bicycle and pedaled off waving with one hand.

As they returned to the living room, Arthur and Vicky looked at each other as both spoke at the same time, "Interesting lady." The earlier tension was gone. As usual, they laughed as they shared a common thought. In chorus they uttered their mantra when that happened, "Two minds but a single thought."

Vicky continued, "Dearest, you didn't have to embarrass me about my painting. I looked up her website. She's a really good artist. I'm not in the same league."

"You don't do yourself justice. I know you are not exceptional as an artist, but you are good for someone who is mainly self-taught. Here's a chance to get better. Take it. Anyway, I wouldn't mind having a painted portrait or even a sketch of you. Work with her quid pro quo."

"Why on earth would you want a portrait of me?"

"Because you're beautiful, and I love you. How's that for starters? Hey, she also said she does figurative work as well." Arthur winked.

Vicky rolled the magazine she had picked up and swatted Arthur. "Oh. You." She let the rest of the sentence go unsaid. Inside she was flattered to think her hubby still thought her fifty-three-year-old body, which she proudly kept in shape, was still worth looking at. She could not help but smile when the thought occurred that maybe she could interest Elly to do a portrait of Arthur as well.

Arthur had a twinkle in his eyes as countered, "Figurative can be clothed, you know." He paused to let that thought sink in before continuing on a different tack. "Speaking of clothes, what did you think of her outfit?"

"Bit arty. Rustic chic?"

"Good one. Yes. Rustic chic. Do you think she wears a bra?"

Vicky laughed and shook her head, "Oh. Men! I have no idea. Why don't you ask her?"

"Married?"

"Men never notice if she wears a ring but are all over it if she doesn't wear a bra. There was no ring. Means nothing these days."

"Just asking. No need to get all huffy." Vicky groaned.

"I'll throw a salad together for supper." Vicky took off to the kitchen.

* * * * *

A few days later Vicky and Arthur were sitting having breakfast in the kitchen when Vicky asked, "You're away at that accounting conference the weekend after next? Right?"

"Yep. I leave early Friday morning and return latish on Monday. Why do you ask? It's on the calendar I think."

"Oh, I forgot to look there. Elly called. We're trying to set up a date. We agreed to have lunch then come over here to look at my paintings."

Arthur raised his eyebrows as he teased, "You don't want me around when she's here?"

"You've got that right. It's embarrassing enough that she is seeing my paintings let alone having you look over my shoulder while she is doing it. I'm going to make our get together on the Saturday when you are away."

Arthur would have liked to be around when Elly visited but let it go. He heard the resolve in Vicky's tone and knew to leave well alone.

"One more thing, sweetie. Will you help me sort out what we consider to be the best five of my paintings? Elly's suggestion."

"Sure. I don't have to be at work for another hour or more. Let's do it now." Arthur was the senior partner in an accountancy firm and made his own timetable.

* * * * *

Arthur felt he was being hustled along by his welcoming wife when he returned from his conference. He no sooner entered the front door than Vicky was onto him and gave him a passionate full-lipped kiss. He registered that it had been decades since that last happened.

"You've five minutes to wash yourself. I'll put the omelet on, I've set it out in the kitchen. Go. Go. Move."

Arthur did as he was told. When he came down, the herb and ham omelet was already on the plate with a fine mixed salad on the side. Glasses of white wine complemented the meal. They chatted as they ate.

"How was the conference?"

"Generally forgettable. Few useful and interesting points came up. One aspect was a bit confusing. Three of the large firms sought me out to schmooze with me. I'm not sure if they are trying to raid me to their organizations or they are considering a takeover. We'll see how that develops."

Arthur saw Vicky was not paying much attention and seemed to be pushing him along with her gestures and by whipping his plate away as soon as he had finished. He also sensed something was different about her but could not quite place it.

He had hardly finished when Vicky said with a sense of urgency, "There is something upstairs I want you see right away."

Arthur thought that a toilet had become blocked or something had fallen down and broken. He followed Vicky as she skipped up the stairs and into their master bedroom. He looked around the room and saw nothing out of place. As he looked back, he saw Vicky had pulled off her top and was already lowering her skirt.