This is written in British English.
Some sex in this part.
All characters engaged in any sexual activity are well over eighteen years old.
Decree Nisi: the first stage in a British divorce procedure. It's the court's directive that the divorce can take place. After six weeks the petitioner can apply for a Decree Absolute, the actual divorce.
Lavatory=Restroom/toilet.
Rumpy-pumpy= Come on! Use your imagination!
*****
Chapter Five
The town in which Mike worked and outside of which he lived was quite large, about 200,000 people, on the outskirts of the City of Manchester. It had long since been assimilated to become a satellite town within the greater Manchester area. When Tom was out looking for women, it was to Manchester City Centre he would go, and it was to Manchester Mike now went to meet Tom in a club.
It was a large club, with a very good restaurant, a bar and a large dance area, and it was known as a pickup joint. Many women went there to get drunk without paying anything - in money. They expected and usually seemed to enjoy getting laid later in the evening by whoever paid for the drinks.
Tom had made reservations for dinner there, and was already at their table when Mike arrived. Mike made his apologies and Tom immediately picked up his mood.
"Someone get up your nose?" he asked as they perused the menu.
"Women!" Mike said with feeling, "or rather, a woman."
"Not Cheryl?"
"No," Mike laughed. "Haven't seen Cheryl in ages."
"Claire?" Tom looked shocked, which surprised Mike. Mike didn't think Tom would ever be surprised by a woman.
Mike nodded.
"Tell all," Tom ordered. So he did.
"I just think it was most ungrateful on her part not to tell me about getting the Decree Nisi," he finished, "and thoughtless in the extreme to leave me waiting for a call all night."
Tom looked up at him and smiled. "You have got it bad haven't you?"
"Um?"
"God, Mike," he expostulated. "You're thick sometimes."
"What?"
"You're in love with the woman," Tom patiently explained. "I told you when you started with Cheryl she was a good fuck but not to get emotionally involved, but you did.
"Now you're doing the same thing with Claire. If you were miffed at her staying out late you'd be over it by now, but you were miffed as well by her not telling you about her Decree. You didn't try to find out why, did you? You were too uptight! Face it matey, you're in love with the woman."
Mike shook his head but began to wonder. Tom cut that short.
"Let's order, and then you need some pussy. You've not had a shag since Claire arrived - significant? You're frustrated old son. Time for some good old fashioned no strings rumpy-pumpy."
They ordered. As always, the food was superb and they conversed in grunts and moans of satisfaction. Once they had finished, Tom paid.
"My treat," he said. "In return you can do as you're told, and take the girl I select for you to bed for the night. Then see how you feel in the morning. Let's face it, if you are in love with Claire and she's fucking someone else, you need to get her out of your system."
Mike shrugged in resignation.
Tom, Mike had to acknowledge, was a babe magnet. What it was about him Mike didn't know. Perhaps he had a nose for available pussy, perhaps he exuded the right pheromones, perhaps it was because he was six foot three and blond, had a cheeky boyish face and a body that repaid the hours of the gym work he did. Whatever the reason, it was true: he was a babe magnet.
Now Mike would also acknowledge that while he wouldn't know how to use a pick up line, Tom had the gift of the gab. However because Mike was a personable kind of bloke, had the gentlest of Scottish accents and perhaps also because he was loaded and willing to splash the cash, it was true that of any pair of women Tom charmed, the one who didn't get Tom usually ended the night more than happy that she got Mike.
Now there is a common joke in films and folklore that when girls are in pairs, you always get a really pretty girl with a rather plain (or even ugly) best friend. Not with Tom. He always made sure both girls were fit. Mike always got a good deal out of being his 'best friend'.
That Friday was no exception. They went into the bar area looking for their mates; none were there that night, but there were two absolute stunners sitting at a table for four. Mike got the drinks in and Tom's antennae were active. The women eyed Tom; he eyed them. They smiled; Tom smiled. It would seem that that was all it took.
This was reinforced when a couple of other lads went to the women's table and got the brush off. As the two wandered off, tails between their legs, the women gave Tom another brilliant smile. Yes, it was all that it took.
Mike and Tom went over, Tom asked to join them and was accepted, of course. Mike and Tom bought them drinks; they drank them. Mike and Tom flirted; they flirted. Both women were wearing the minimally legal party wear, low cut crop-tops, clearly bra-less, the shortest of short pleated skirts and very high heels. No stockings or tights. Knickers? Who knew?
Gentlemen prefer blondes. Not blond Tom. He was a dark hair man, so Mike got the honey blonde. At first he could tell she was disappointed her friend got Tom, but by the second drink she had got over it. Mike said something humorous, she laughed and touched his arm. She flirted; he stroked her hand. She moved closer; he put his arm round her. She lifted her face for a kiss; they kissed. And again.
While they were all chatting, Mike saw Tom stiffen, lose track of the conversation and then relax.
"What's up doc?" Mike quipped, failing in his Bugs Bunny impression. "Seen someone?"
"It's all right," Tom muttered. "I think it was Cheryl and a man; she's gone now."
Mike looked round but couldn't see her, and promptly forgot about her.
His golden blonde was called Bryony, and Tom's brunette was Sharon. It turned out that Tom knew both of them, which made the ease of Tom's pick-up more understandable. Mike needed the lavatory, and when he returned there was a look of compassion on Bryony's face.
"Tom tells us your wife walked out on you," she said.
"That's right," he said with some acidity. The acidity came from the fact that Tom had told things Mike didn't want to share. "You need to know I'm a boring person."
Tom looked briefly uncomfortable, but they all took the hint and they went on to talk of other things.
Bryony was a generously endowed young woman. Her breasts were large and firm but well shaped and in proportion, and she assured Mike without any prompting when she caught him looking, that they were natural. Her waist was narrow, and she had a wonderful hour-glass shape. As she repaired to the ladies with her friend, her bottom was rounded, neat and full, swaying under the pleated skirt which swung enticingly to and fro, and her legs were long and perfectly formed. Mind you, four or five inch heels help any girl's legs.
"Sorry, Mike," said Tom when the two women were out of earshot. "Bryony doesn't do married men, so I had to tell her you were divorced."
"You had to say she walked out on me?"
"Sorry," he repeated. "Stupid of me. I know how sensitive you are about it, but she might not have liked it if she thought you had dumped your wife instead of the other way round."
When the women returned, Tom suggested going to his place. Mike suggested to Bryony that he book a hotel room. She looked uncertain, until he took out his mobile and booked a four-poster room in one of the largest (and most expensive) hotels in the city. No uncertainty then, especially as he gave his name, knew the receptionist by name, passed the time of day and asked for his 'usual' room.
They parted from Tom and Sharon, who now looked a little disappointed she was not getting the hotel treatment as well, got a taxi and had a drink in the hotel bar before the lift took them to their floor. She loved the room. She squealed, and bounced onto the bed, showing her purple lacy boy-shorts, looking behind her and grinning at Mike's appreciation of her underwear and rounded backside.
Mike was hard. It had been a while since he had had a woman, and Bryony's enthusiasm showed she would be a satisfying lay. He went to the living area and beckoned her over.
She came over and went to sit on his knee. He shook his head. She stood before him. He leant forward and traced a finger up the outside of each of her legs at once. She leant forward and put her hands on his shoulders. As he passed her knees he strayed behind them, and she shivered, her head back and her eyes closed.
His fingers traced her thighs, still on the outside, under her skirt until they reached her knickers. Then it was round the twin orbs of her bottom, round and round, until she began to squirm. Quickly he hooked her panties at the waist and began to pull them down until they reached her knees, where he left them at the top of her calves and again caressed her knees. She buckled and fell onto him, then went down on her knees before him. He slipped off her top.
Your tits are brilliant," he whispered, "so firm and natural, and your nips are to die for."
The girl actually blushed.
"What's the matter?" he asked, laughing.
She shook her head, but thrust her tits out, and giggled.
He lifted her up, and unclipped her skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, and then pushed her knickers down from their place on her calves, until she delicately stepped out of them. Now she was naked except for her high heels. She opened her stance so he could see her sex. Not shaven, though it might as well have been; her downy blonde pubic hair, already sparse, was trimmed short.
"You like?" she asked.
"I like," he said, pulling her towards him. Thanks to her heels, her pubic mound was at tongue height and she widened her legs even further, before taking his right hand and putting it to her sex. He allowed his third finger to slide under her to her anus, parting her cheeks while he traced through the cleft over her rosebud and perineum, then with the lightest touch over her outer lips, feather-light over where her clitoris lay hidden.
"Yes," she groaned in frustration. "Touch me baby."
"I have," he said, straight faced.
