Never Mind the Face

Part 9. Christmas Party Games

Chapter 20. A Formal Invitation

My once staid life with a cheating wife had altered out of all recognition since our break up. I had had an affair of sorts with an office colleague; had sex with a naked woman on a horse; filmed her and her mother naked on separate occasions, riding a saddle containing a dildo; oh, and seduced an ambivalent lesbian. It seemed that many of the values I had cherished from my upbringing had been swept away by opportunity and experience. And I had not been sorry for the compromise of some of my former values. My outlook on relationships had changed beyond all recognition.

And it had all started with Sylvia, the sort of woman I wouldn't normally look at twice. Should I be happy for having had these exhilarating experiences? I was, but they had taken their toll on my love life. No other woman showed anything like the promise of those three extraordinarily entrancing women. My fleeting experiences with them had left me lacking any enthusiasm for meeting other women. I had enjoyed thrills not given to many men in staid '80s Britain, and I could not face the mundanity of an ordinary relationship.

My daydreams were filled with erotic recollections of Sylvia, Ruby and Rita. Those memories were replenished by each fresh viewing of their freely bestowed porn videos of them in action. It might have been better if I had deleted the video files and started life afresh, for my son William's sake. I was a single parent and I felt that our partnership lacked a feminine touch. But most of all, I was feeling sorry for myself despite the richness of my sexual experiences.

I was desperate to speak to Sylvia again; to hear her voice and catch up on her new life in Brussels. Sylvia didn't want to speak to me, though. I had been told that she wanted to give her new life a fighting chance.

I telephoned Ruby instead. She had inveigled me into filming her fantasy, which had been inspired by her daughter's desire to solve her own sex problems. Ruby had used me to replicate her daughter's experience on horseback, on the slim hopes that it might bring them closer together once Sylvia viewed the tapes. That remained to be seen since neither of them had seen the very explicit videos I had shot of them naked on horseback with a dildo saddle. Sylvia was unaware of her mother's intended digital olive branch.

Ruby owed me, too. I had suffered the frustration of filming her superb, naked body under stress, and not received my reward of sampling her corporeal delights. I hoped to get an invite to do so now.

She picked up the phone.

"Hi, Ruby?"

"Hello? Oh, hi Si - er, I'll take this in the kitchen."

I heard her footsteps echo in the receiver. She must have had an unwanted audience for the telephone conversation. She picked up the kitchen extension.

"Right, now we can talk."

"Hi Ruby, is Sebastian at home?"

"Yes, he is, so we should be discreet."

Her tone was guarded

"Did you tell him about your ride?"

There was a hint of caution now in her voice.

"I did not. I thought about it, but it begged too many questions. He didn't want to meet you, remember? Whatever adventures we have, we normally have them in full view of each other. This was something I did behind his back. I didn't want to share it with him.

"So, tell me Simon, why are you calling me now?"

She sounded exasperated at the contact.

"As you know, Sylvia didn't give me any contact details. I'd like to speak her. Do you have her phone number?"

"Oh, is that all, that's fine then." She seemed relieved that the call was about her daughter.

"I do have her phone number, but she asked me specifically not to give it to you. It's quite clear that she wants to make a clean break. So I can't help you, I'm afraid."

"Oh, but can you pass on a message then, that I'd like to talk to her?"

"I

can

do that, but don't get your hopes up."

"Have you spoken with her recently. How is she?"

"The fact that I have her contact details doesn't mean that we're in regular contact. I haven't spoken to her in quite a while. Nor has she telephoned me. Look, Simon, I know you were good for her, but it's unlikely that she will want to speak to you in the foreseeable future."

"OK. What have you told Sebastian about me - or more specifically about our meeting?"

Her tone became more guarded now.

"I haven't, yet. I've been waiting for an opportunity in the natural course of conversation. Look, if there's any change on that front, I'll call you."

"Ruby, I rather hoped I could show you the video of your ride. It's quite something to watch, but nobody else has seen it. Can I come over and premier it with you?"

"I don't think that would be appropriate. It was an error of judgement on my part. I think you should delete it, don't you? I think we should leave it there. Please don't call again."

The line went dead. Her tone had become increasingly impersonal and dismissive as the call had progressed. Our horseback adventure had apparently counted for nothing.

I took her at her word, and crossed her off my Christmas card list.

~*~*~

It was all the more surprising therefore to receive a notelet card of a pastoral countryside scene a few weeks later. Inside was a handwritten message.

'Dear Simon, I talked the situation regarding Sylvia over with Sebastian. We had a frank and revealing discussion. I also told him something - but not all - of our horse-riding conversation. He received the news very well, in the circumstances. The upshot of the discussion was that he suggested inviting you to lunch after Christmas. I think he is intrigued enough to be willing to meet you. He wants to help find a way to mend fences with Sylvia as well. We think you can help us. We agreed on Boxing Day. We won't be entertaining any guests then. Would you oblige me and accept? I meant what I said before about not phoning me, but you can reply in writing. Best regards, Ruby.'

The note was curiously formal but informative. Would I oblige her? I must not telephone her. I should keep my distance, but I was invited to lunch on Boxing Day. It stacked up as if she was asking me to do her a favour. She expressed no desire to see me again for her own sake. And now Sebastian knew 'something', yet it wasn't clear how much. He had still agreed to me coming to Boxing Day lunch, which suggested that he was curious to meet me, or at least to learn what I knew of his step-daughter. Surely that could not be so bad? Perhaps he was intrigued about me and Sylvia? I imagined a council of war being planned about how to re-engage with their estranged daughter.

I mulled the invitation over for a couple of weeks, then broached the subject of Christmas with William's mother. She was adamant that they would celebrate Christmas with her parents "as a family". That was an ironic phrase to use, given that William and I were a family unit for most of the year, from which she had opted out as a parent. Still, it left me no good reason to refuse Ruby and Sebastian's offer. I wrote back, formally accepting the invitation.

Ruby replied a couple of weeks prior to Christmas with a note to confirm the arrangements, stating that dress would be smart casual. The tone of the note felt oddly formal and distant, even to how she addressed me, as 'Mr'.

Chapter 21. A Festive Welcome

I decided to present Sebastian, whom I had yet to meet, with a bottle of fine Napoleon brandy. For Ruby, I selected a fancy box of expensive chocolates, and a winter bouquet. From what Sylvia had told me about them I expected smart casual to mean impeccable clothing. I rang the bell feeling somewhat over-dressed, and not because they were nudists.

She opened the door dressed in a housecoat and apron. It seemed that I might indeed be over-dressed.

"I'm so pleased you could come, Simon," she said, her manner distant and formal. "Please excuse my outfit, but I prefer to dress suitably whilst cooking. I will change for lunch."

I presented her with the flowers and chocolates, and she led me into the kitchen. Sebastian stood at a sink in an island kitchen unit, apparently preparing vegetables. He was casually dressed, also with an apron around his waist, over a shirt and jeans. I felt as if wasn't being treated as a lunch guest as much as an informal caller. It felt welcomingly low key. He approached with outstretched hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Simon. You won't be surprised to learn that I've heard a lot about you, from Ruby and Rita - all good, I might add." We shook hands. His grip was firm and he stared me out with piercing eyes.

Sebastian was undeniably handsome: early fifties, tall, impressive physique, with a healthy tan. Like Ruby, he appeared not to have an ounce of excess fat. He carried himself with an air of confidence and bonhomie.

"I'm just topping and tailing the sprouts then I'll be finished. Ruby, why don't you open a bottle of bubbly, to whet our wicks?"

Rock music played at low volume from a radio on a light oak dresser. The kitchen was a large and impressive space of exposed red bricks and aged oak beams. It was large and well furnished with dressers, hand-crafted wall cupboards and worktops, a large elm round table and matching chairs, all resting on an ancient red tiled floor. A feature of the room was a large chimney breast within which a large wood burner with a glass front pumped out furnace-grade heat. Illumination was by a combination of recessed ceiling lights and table lamps on various cupboard surfaces. Despite its great size, the room felt cosy and intimate.

Ruby smiled weakly, politely rather than warmly. "Did you have a good Christmas, Simon?"

I shrugged, perhaps a little off-handedly. "Thank you. I dined at a pub with some friends. My son stayed with his mother's family."

"Oh, that's a shame, but at least it gives you time off to yourself."

She chatted politely but inconsequentially until Sebastian pronounced his chores finished. Then she shooed us both out of the kitchen, saying, "Give the cook room; go and occupy yourselves in the lounge."

Sebastian led the way.

"She's quite a woman, isn't she? Just wait 'til you see her dressed up."

The lounge was a large, mostly modern addition to the farmhouse, consisting of an existing room of rough plastered walls inset with hefty darkened oak beams, and a modern extension with two sets of tri-fold doors onto a well-groomed rear garden. This room, too, had a large fireplace, with a lustily burning open fire sitting on an ancient tiled hearth.

"This is a fine house, Sebastian. Has it been in your family long?"

He smiled proudly. "Centuries. We did well to hold onto our wealth during Cromwell's time, being staunch Catholics."

I admired the spaciousness of the lounge. "How did you get planning permission for the extension?"

"Didn't need it, then. The room was first extended before the War. I just modernised it later."

The room was zoned, by careful arrangement of three long sofas positioned on three sides facing the fire; an adjoining entertainments area with more sofas and easy chairs; a large glass-fronted drinks cabinet and a bar; and a large, lacquered cherry wood dining table and traditional style chairs.

The floor was plushly carpeted in a light neutral colour, with sockets inset strategically under polished brass flaps. The room was impressive in scale, yet the various zones felt intimate. That was because of the way that they had been laid out as discrete areas, with zonal lighting from lamps on occasional tables.

"This is where we do most of our entertaining. You'll see in the panelled ceiling, an inset panel. If I press this remote control ... a section of the panels withdraw into a recess and a screen descends. We watch widescreen movies on it from a projector, which comes down from another ceiling recess behind us. I won't disturb its slumber just now.

"But our allotted men's task for now is to move the dining table and chairs out of the way, to that back wall over there. The table comes apart in sections, but we should be careful not to mark its surface. There are protective covers folded up on the chairs in which to wrap the table sections."

I looked around. "Where will we take lunch, then?"

He smiled knowingly. "Ruby has been planning this for weeks, from before you accepted our lunch invitation. Under that large cover over there, near the tri-fold doors, is her brainchild, to create a special atmosphere for lunch.

"What did you think of the lunch invitation?"

"Er, it looked very professionally produced. It must have cost something to have it printed just for us."

"Ah, that's it, Ruby did it all. Look on the walls. The artwork is all hers. She has her own art and design studio upstairs under the eaves. We hold regular dinner parties. She produces bespoke game cards and props that look good enough to be sold in shops. But we live comfortably so she doesn't need to earn her own money. She keeps herself busy anyway.

"Now, we have an hour before lunch to get the room ready, so we should start by dismantling the main table."

As we laboured, Sebastian plied me with questions about Sylvia.

How did she first receive you as her new boss? Was she depressed at all in the office? What was your first reaction to her? What attracted you to her? What do you think of her figure?

We had drunk enough champagne by then to loosen our tongues, so his questions didn't disturb me. His questioning was direct and probing - and quite intimate at times. He assured me that he and Ruby had lived with Sylvia's mental health issues for years, and got to know them intimately. She had had a period of severe depression before meeting me.

His occasional observations suggested great concern for her state of mind. But he was also aware of his own effect on her.

"She struggled as a child growing up. She had a low self-image. So when her body started to fill out, she was embarrassed and she retreated into a shell. This began before I knew her and Ruby. I don't know the full history with her uncle and father, but it undoubtedly impaired her mental well-being. The rest you know: her problems with her loathsome husband, her libido, frustrations, etcetera.

"She left home as soon as she legally could. We saw little of her until she met you. She was keen to establish contact with us then, for a while. That's how we deduced that you were having a beneficial influence on her. Her spirits were much improved. Tell me, Simon, what did you see in her?"

That question would have ordinarily seemed unduly personal and intimate, but I was getting to know Sebastian. I was surprised to find him so likeable and compassionate, particularly as regards Sylvia's welfare.

"I know what you're alluding to. I thought her quite plain looking at first sight. I suspected that she dressed intentionally to keep men at bay. I had no inkling that she had such a good figure. That was, until she turned up at an evening foursome badminton game in the most unbelievably brief, tight badminton shorts. She told me later that she had dressed to impress me, and that it had been for 'my eyes only'. She confided all in Rita, whom I think you know, so I suspect you know the rest."

"Um, perhaps. She refused to discuss her 'psychosexual problems', so Ruby and I sought specialist advice. The psychologist thought, theoretically, that it was possibly a phase from which she might grow out in time. Bizarrely, we were urged to support her, including facilitating her sexual openness. I broached the subject on one occasion, only for her to storm out, declaring me to be a pervert."

We were treading on dangerous ground, but I was keen to find out what her knew of her history before he met Ruby.

"She confided in me that she had had problems with her mother growing up. What do you know about that?"

Sebastian's face went blank. He wasn't aware of that, but his expression showed interest in learning more. I had gone too far to stop there.

"She told me that she heard her parents many times, having sex very noisily. The walls of their house must have been very thin. It frightened her because she thought he was being violent to Ruby. I got the impression that it contributed to her fears about sex. You must know of her difficulties in that respect, which Alfie only compounded by his thoughtless and selfish abuse of her body."

Sebastian looked startled by my revelation. He sat down heavily on a dining chair and uttered a very expressive, "Phew! That indeed explains a lot, but why did she keep it from her mother?"

"I didn't know that she had. I suspect she believed that Ruby enjoyed being the victim of sexual violence; a concept so horrifying to her that she couldn't bring herself to discuss it with her mother. It took her a while to confide in me. Even Rita didn't know about it. Sylvia talked a great deal about trust, and that she felt uniquely that she could trust in me."

Sebastian was puzzled. "Why was that?"

"I can only guess. You probably know now, or can suspect, that she set out to seduce me. She found it hard work because I wanted to be faithful to my cheating wife. But Sylvia succeeded in arousing my interest, so she grew to believe that she knew me well enough to trust me."

Another voice intruded.

"You two shouldn't be sitting about gassing. What about the dining table?"

Sebastian leapt up guiltily, and turned. I stared - we both stared.

Ruby had changed into a glittering dark blue cocktail dress. It had an impressively revealing low-cut top, revealing her magnificently deep cleavage and much of two very naturally shaped orbs. It clung to her waist, and pear-shaped hips, but with a split overlapping front from the waist, the two sides cutaway to expose her right thigh and lower legs. The colour of her outfit went well with her hazel hair and matching eyes.

"Do you like my dress? I bought it especially for today."

Sebastian chuckled with pleasure. "You look captivating, darling. Keeping secrets from me?"

She glared at me, demanding an explanation. Had I been telling tales?

I ignored her unspoken query. "Should I be complimenting the hostess openly in front of her partner? Well, ok, your dress looks absolutely stunning. You're a very sexy lady, Ruby."

Sebastian chuckled again.

"That's my boy, tell it how it is. We're all adults here. Now, we better get on with preparing the new dining table."

Ruby led the way across the room to the covered item of furniture. My eyes followed her curvaceous bottom as she walked; its pleasing shape was highlighted by the tightness of the dress across her hips. It had an open back down to her waist, which didn't allow for a bra to be worn. That was all woman under there. I wondered whether she had even allowed room for panties.

She gathered parts of the table cover in each hand and pulled it away with a flourish, like a magician.

Sebastian clapped enthusiastically. I just stood motionless with my mouth gaping. Ruby had evidently been very busy organising this lunch event.

The replacement table was large and circular, its top made entirely of glass, and resting on small circular light grey discs that topped slender tubular stainless-steel legs. One table leg was positioned next to an inset socket in the carpet. Placed equidistantly around the table were four clear Perspex chairs, with small seat cushions on top.

She stroked the glass surface lovingly with her fingertips. "I've always wanted a table setting to be minimalist. So, I plan not to have any unnecessary clutter on this one for this meal. Can you both bring in some side tables from the kitchen and place them near the windows, please?"

I left the room with my head spinning. From a distance the table was virtually invisible, save for its thin steel legs. It occurred to me that I would be able to admire Ruby's legs through the transparent table top as we dined. I chided myself for such saucy thoughts, but perhaps that was the intention?