Never Mind The Face Pt 08

Part 8. The Dragon's Lair

Chapter 19. Fulfilling An Obligation

Sylvia had packed up and emigrated to Brussels with indecent haste. My parenting commitments meant that I hadn't been able to see her before she moved. She was keen to get away from some bad memories, but I also suspected that she was deliberately drawing a line under our ambiguous relationship.

Her plans to sell her house all moved surprisingly smoothly. She hadn't even asked for my assistance.

I took her departure personally. Her eagerness to get away felt like a rejection. I knew that I didn't love her. How could I? Despite her flirtatious behaviour she had been emotionally unapproachable. But she had meant a lot to me, as a friend and sometimes confidante. Thoughts of her had occupied so much of my waking thoughts for so long that she would leave a vacuum behind her, me knowing that I could no longer see her.

When Rita, the saddle-maker, contacted me, I had assumed her motive was arranging the delivery of Sylvia's personal effects. It wasn't. Rita had come to see me, but she hadn't brought Sylvia's boxes with her. She left it to me to return the compliment and visit her to collect them.

"Hello? Is that Rita?"

"Yes, I know that voice; it's Simon, isn't it? What can I do for you?"

Her voice sounded sexy, particularly since I could put a face and body to it. I felt an immediate urge to see her again, perhaps to repeat our first encounter.

"We have some unfinished business. When can I see you?"

Her next words dashed my hopes, if not my urges.

"Oh Simon, that was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I warned you not to get any ideas about you and me. It was fun at the time, but it's over."

She didn't intend to let me down gently. Had the sole motivation for her visit to my house been to see the videos? Had sex with me just been the icing on the cake, an opportunistic experience never to be repeated? I pressed on, now somewhat humiliated.

"Yes - well - OK - but there's still the matter of Sylvia's possessions which you wanted me to deliver to her mother. When can I collect them?"

"I'd rather you came whilst I'm away. Call at my neighbour's. She'll show you where they're stored."

So, Rita not only didn't want a repeat performance, she wanted to avoid me as well. What had I done to deserve that? I felt as deflated as a punctured bouncy castle or an ex-balloon.

I tried to disguise my disappointment and agreed to meet up with her neighbour to go and collect the boxes from Rita's stables.

I sat at home, staring for weeks after that, at the boxes piled up in my living room. They weren't sealed, and I glanced at the contents. One box contained Sylvia's office clothes, including those dreadful striped blouses. I stared at them, and imagined her firm, bra-clad breasts almost bursting out of them. Briefly touching them with my fingers gave me an unwanted erection, so strong were my recollections of her, so redundant was my physical reaction.

I had to rid myself of those potent reminders. I telephoned Ruby. I felt queasy as I dialled her number.

"Mrs Willcocks? My name is Simon. Your daughter asked me to contact you."

"Simon, you say? Sylvia's friend? What does she want now?"

Ruby's voice was not dissimilar in register to Rita's contralto, but it was cold, disparaging and imperious. I didn't know the full history between mother and daughter, and at that moment I felt like piggy in the middle of a relationship quagmire.

"Sylvia phoned me just before she left for Brussels. She asked me to collect some boxes of her personal possessions from storage that she couldn't take with her. She asked me to deliver them to you for safe-keeping."

"Why should I take them, after what she's done to me? You are her boyfriend. Why don't you look after them?"

"I'm not, and never have been her boyfriend. I was simply a friend who tried to support her when she was down."

There was a harsh, forced laugh in the earpiece. "A friend with benefits from all I heard. I suspect you were well paid for your services."

Ruby's biting sarcasm hurt Her tone sounded harsh and dismissive. Contacting her suddenly felt like a bad idea.

"Mrs Willcocks, I don't want to come between mother and daughter. I did my best to support Sylvia, but I know nothing of the differences between the two of you. Sylvia didn't confide in me."

"No, she was a dark horse. She nearly came between me and Sebastian. Still, that is none of your business, I suppose. So what do you want of me after all this time?"

"I want only to fulfil Sylvia's wishes, to deliver some of her possessions to you to look after for her. I'm sure she values them. Perhaps they would provide a possible bridge between you both in time - if you want to see her again."

"This is a nice try, but I fear that boat has sailed. Well, if you must, you can drop them off at the weekend. I gather you know all too well where to come."

Luckily, I was free of parenting duties that following weekend, which is why I had chosen to telephone her then. Her last comment suggested that she knew quite a lot about my antics at the farm with Sylvia, in her absence. It would be awkward having to meet her under those circumstances.

~*~*~

I didn't realise until I put the receiver down how tense I'd been during the telephone conversation. I was trembling with stress. Sylvia had said her mother was formidable. I felt every bit of that steeliness, and her contempt for me in her tone of voice.

I conjured up an image of a prim lady of a certain age, who probably disapproved of Sylvia's dissolute behaviour with me. From what Sylvia had said about Sebastian, who had not sounded at all starchy, her mother did not sound an ideal mate for him.

Ruby telephoned me later that week to postpone my trip.

"There's no reason for Sebastian to meet you, so I'd like to rearrange your visit to a later date when he will not be here. He will be away abroad on business then. He agrees with me that he has no reason to want to meet you."

So Sylvia's stepfather apparently preferred to avoid me, along with Sylvia and Rita. I suppose I shouldn't have taken it personally, but I did. I was beginning to feel like a pariah for being Sylvia's friend. The prospect of the rearranged trip to her mother was beginning to fill me with dread.

I drove to Gloucestershire on a fine early autumn Saturday morning. It was a pleasantly warm day, but the weather did nothing to dispel my unease at a potential confrontation with the dragon lady. I had left home early in case of heavy traffic, and was reduced to an almost crawl in order to arrive at the appointed time and not before. Ruby had insisted that I make an appointment, and make sure that I kept to time. "Punctuality is politeness," she had asserted. It made me feel no more significant or welcome than the taxman.

Memories of my time with Sylvia at the farmhouse did nothing to make me feel better at being there again as I pulled up in front of the charming, mediaeval farmhouse mansion. I pulled on the chain in the rustic porch, which rang a distant bell in the interior.

The door was opened several minutes later by a very glamorous looking lady. It had to be Ruby Willcocks. How could it have been anyone else?

The woman was large-framed, with a powerful body, but a compelling shape. She was unlike Sylvia in almost every respect. Whereas Sylvia's face had been plain, Ruby's had a timeless beauty etched into her faint, mature lines. She had perfect features and a sensual mouth. She had a full head of glossy hazel hair which she kept from flying in the breeze by a multi-coloured head band tied around her forehead.

She stared at me appraisingly for several, very long seconds. They felt like an eternity. I was too nervous to break the ice by speaking. I was also intimidated by her sheer physical presence. She was almost a match for Rita. She was about my height, but her body was very imposing for a woman.

At last, she spoke.

"So you're the legendary Simon. I've heard a great deal about you. How much of it is true, I wonder? Not a lot, judging by the sight of you."

Her put-down intimidated me instantly. But it didn't sound as much cruel as dismissive, as if I was of no importance. She stood aside in the doorway and gestured with a proprietorial sweep of her arm for me to enter. I did my best not to stoop as I passed her. She overtook me and went ahead with expansive strides and cupped hands that spoke of proprietorship and utmost self-confidence. She led me to the large kitchen of red bricks and exposed oak beams. She indicated a tall bar stool at an island bar.

"Have a seat. I can offer you refreshments, although I suspect you already know where to fetch them from."

Yet another dig at a supposed history about me. She poured us both freshly brewed coffees and gestured to a plate of shortbread biscuits.

I studied her in more detail as I sipped on the refreshment. Her body was impressive for its size and shape. There appeared to be no wasted fat anywhere on her exposed limbs. She sported a large bust, slim waist, and attractive hips. She was wearing a flowing green kaftan dress or tunic, with a plunging vee neck, secured at the waist with an interwoven green and yellow rope belt. She wore beige toeless sandals and had matching green painted toenails. The thin kaftan material clung to her body in drapes but hinted at an enticing shape beneath.

She wasn't at all as I had imagined her from her telephone manner. Her clothing style spoke of a carefree free spirit.

"You must forgive me, Simon. I was unreasonable to you on the phone. I took it out on you, but you were only the messenger. You can take your car to the stable yard after your coffee, and unload the boxes into the empty stable block.

"Thank you. I won't detain you longer than necessary." That was my polite proxy for my actual thought: I'd prefer to get away just as quickly as I can.

She considered my meaning, then emitted a half-chuckle.

Then she set off on a rambling stream-of-consciousness speech. There was nervousness lurking there under her practised exterior.

"I understand that you rode Honey when you were here. She's my horse, a docile creature. But now I have responsibility for two. Marshi was Sylvia's. She is more spirited, but very sensible. She needs to be exercised daily. I often ride her and sometimes take Honey along on a long rein. I let all three horses out in the paddock to socialise. Master's Mate is a gelding so he enjoys the mares' company. But the ladies seem to enjoy human company more. They can be demanding emotionally. Honey, particularly, calls out for attention sometimes. I also know that Marshi misses Sylvia."

She was filling a potentially awkward silence with whatever came into her head. Suspicion dawned, that perhaps she had been putting on a front. Would the real Mrs Willcocks reveal herself?

Her next words were tentative.

"Perhaps you would ride Honey again today? I can take Marshi. They don't often get ridden out together. It would be doing me a favour."

She had wounded me with her off-hand openers.

"Are you sure you can tolerate my presence?"

She stared at me, pensively, then she tried an ineffectual smile.

"Yes, I was rude, wasn't I? I saw you as the enemy, succeeding with my daughter where I had failed. I'm sure now it wasn't you she was running away from when she fled to Belgium.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot. This meeting could have gone one of two ways. I was prepared for both. Seeing you now, I think I would enjoy to spend some time with you, if you would oblige me? The mares need exercise. You could accompany me, and we could talk?

"Oh, yes, of course, Mrs Willcocks. I enjoyed riding Honey, and I admired Marshi's intelligence and instincts. She's a remarkable horse."

After the briefest of pauses, she smiled, confidently this time. The ice was broken.

This was a different woman from the ogre I imagined on the telephone. Her initial demeanour at the front door had mellowed in minutes in the kitchen. But it felt like an act. She now wanted some help in exercising her horses so she had changed her tune.

I was torn between irritation for her apparent game playing and curiosity about her potentially sumptuous body beneath that kaftan. She had stood up, apparently to show me some photographs of the family. But I got the impression it was her body she was drawing my attention to. It was a means to an end which seem to involve using me.

"That was Sylvia as a girl. She was very shy then. She couldn't bear to stand still for a picture. There she is at sixteen at Weymouth. I talked her into her first bikini. Sebastian was very impressed. That's him there, in that one."

She handed me a photo of a very confident looking man, middle aged but with an exceptionally youthful, well-developed body. He was the sort of man I wished I could be: strong, muscular, tanned and exceptionally attractive. Whereas I was the sort of man to whom she wouldn't look twice.

"There isn't one of you, Mrs Willcocks."

"Call me Ruby. No, they're my pictures. Sebastian doesn't care about such things. I suppose you would have liked to see one of me in a bikini?"

I tried to meet her gaze and not appear as embarrassed as I felt at that moment. She let me off the hook.

"I know that Sylvia liked you very much. If anyone could persuade her to return, it would be you. If the opportunity arises, would you try and persuade her to come back for a visit, at least? If she contacts you, can you tell me what she says?"

"I would be pleased to do what I can to help, er, Ruby, but I wouldn't betray a confidence."

"Of course not. I wouldn't ask you to be indiscreet. Sylvia wants a reconciliation every bit as much as I do. I'm sure she would want you to be forthcoming to help me understand her thinking. Now, I want to make it up to you for being so rude before. I'm going to be exceptionally nice whilst we ride the horses. I think you will find it quite pleasant.

Now, I'm going to change into riding clothes, whilst you stow away Sylvia's boxes in the stables."

~*~*~

I waited in the stable yard for her arrival, and she made quite an entrance.

Like Sylvia, she had a knack of choosing tight clothing that emphasised her shape. But whilst tight riding gear was captivating on Sylvia, on her mother it was devastating. If anything, she was instantly sexier, even than Rita, due to her perfect figure. Her riding pants, predictably, hugged her firm flesh like a second skin. They suggested that the body beneath was smooth and shapely, with generously flowing curves. Sebastian was a lucky man. The two were physically well-suited. She made me feel like an intruder, merely spending time with her, when she could attract the company of just ab wanted.

I considered complimenting her on her outfit, then thought better of it. We were still strangers, and she might have considered it presumptuous flirting.

I helped her saddle both mares. Honey remembered me and nuzzled my cheek. That didn't go unnoticed by her mistress.

Ruby had chosen a shallow saddle for herself, but a conventional one with more support for me. She turned to face me when the horses were ready.

"What do you think of my outfit?"

"Oh, I didn't like to presume by commenting. Since you ask, you look extraordinary in it."

"But would you say sexy?"

I sensed a trap. Where was this leading?

"I hesitate to make personal comments about someone I hardly know."

"But I am inviting your comment, as a man. I know you like to admire women's bodies."

"Well, you are quite unlike Sylvia. One thing you do have in common, though is knowing how to show your bodies to their best advantage."

"Well said, but do you notice any differences between us?"

I hesitated, not knowing how to express what I observed without being overly personal.

"Well, er, Sylvia has a slim frame -"

"With good breasts, I know."

"Yes, whereas your body type is quite different. Your frame is bigger, I might say almost Amazonian. It's hard to credit that you are mother and daughter."

She chuckled. "Well, we are. Sylvia has never seen me dressed like this. It took Sebastian a long time to bring out my self-confidence. I would like Sylvia to see just how far I've come. You will have to tell her the next time you speak to her."

She went to a stable store cupboard and took out a digicam. "You know how to operate one of these, I believe. I haven't seen your handiwork, but Sylvia said you are quite proficient with a digicam. The battery is fully charged."

"But she said she hadn't told you about us."

"That's true, she hadn't. But she confided in Rita, our saddler. Rita and I were good friends once; that is how she and Sylvia met. When Sylvia went to Brussels, we renewed our contact."

"But Rita said you weren't speaking."

Ruby chuckled.

"That was a ruse we agreed on, to get you to come and see me. We settled our differences long ago."

"Did Rita betray Sylvia's confidence?"

"No, of course not. She told me no more than Sylvia gave her permission to do. And I wanted you to come, to talk to me about my daughter - help me understand her better. How better to do that than in the saddle, enjoying this lovely weather!

"Now, I would like you to film me riding in my fetching new gear. You can take the video tape with you and show it to Sylvia the next time you see her. But for now, I think you should first get acclimatised to riding again. Then, later, you can start filming me."

That set my brain buzzing. What sort of filming did she have in mind? Ruby was very attractive, but not at all flirtatious in her manner; in fact she was curiously stand-offish. I could believe that she had dressed to impress Sylvia on film. It certainly didn't appear to be for my benefit. Yet filming her would be an intimate act, that would inevitably draw the viewer's eye to her body. She must be aware that it would excite me to be so close to that spectacular body.

"Do you mean dressed like that?" I asked, probing her intentions.

"Why?" she answered, "would you prefer I change? I'm quite comfortable like this, thank you. This is my new image. I want Sylvia to see me like this."

Her tone had frosted. I wondered just how much, or how little, Rita had told her. That response suggested that she had somehow taken offence at some supposed presumption.

She had packed Honey's saddle bags with essential supplies and found a strap for the digicam to hang from my neck.

She led the way out of the stable yard on Marshi. I followed, staring in astonishment at her firm bottom in the saddle. It spread little more than Sylvia's had, and didn't lose its compellingly rounded shape when seated on the saddle. When she rose in the stirrups, her thighs showed lithe strength.

We rode for about five minutes along a woodland track, then she halted Marshi.

"OK, that's far enough. Are you feeling comfortable again in the saddle? Good. Now, I want you to film me close-up, mounting Marshi. I will take my time so the camera can linger over my lower body. I want Sylvia to appreciate it."

Those words forced my blood to ultra pressurise the already present bulge within my jeans. I suspected now that this wasn't just about Sylvia at all. It would be me she was showing off her body to. She was every bit as sexy as her daughter, though probably without Sylvia's physical hang-ups. I wondered how one earth I could compete with Sebastian, though. From his photograph, he looked like a fine physical specimen.

There was something compelling about focusing a camera's attention on a woman's body, even when it was clothed. Ruby's body was even sexier than her daughter's, and Rita's. This was going to be an interesting ride.

We dismounted and I set up the shot for her to place her foot in the stirrup and propel her body upwards, pausing for an action shot as her right leg was in mid-swing over the mare's back. Her pause, just long enough for me to film her taut leg muscles and stretched bottom within her stretch pants, was somehow all the sexier in its own way for what it implied. I dismissed as inappropriate, thoughts of her mature pussy imprisoned in those tight breeches. But it did not escape me that it was much the same shot as I had previously taken of her naked daughter.