The Touch

This chapter is the continuation of THE TOUCH a multipart series which was started a couple of years back and can still be found in the Literotica Novella section with my original author ID GreenFingers. The story follows straight on from the end of Chapter 38. The series ended rather abruptly when I needed to go into hospital for some repairs whilst working overseas and resulted in my having to spend many months recuperating abroad. I am now home in the UK and intend continuing with this story now that I have access to my original notes and story outlines.

I would like to express my sincere thanks to all those readers who have continued to send me get well messages and have expressed their enthusiasm for new additions to the original story.

How did it all start? A lot of readers have asked me what prompted the writing of this story. Back in the mid '90s I bought a box of miscellaneous books at an auction amongst which were new, blank desk diaries for the years 1986 onwards, it seemed a shame not to use some of them and so I started filling the pages with Jamie's story just for my own amusement as something to occupy my time whilst travelling on trains and 'planes between work assignments. After that it just snowballed and the characters took over and simply wrote their own tale, I just held the pen and bought new diaries each year. I had previously not ventured into writing erotica and revisiting this story after so many years has been an interesting experience. The original text for this story was written in the form of handwritten journal style entries starting over twenty years ago and often I would revisit and revise chapters after a few days and tuck the revisions into the bound diaries and so those original entries all require considerable editing so that they have continuity and hopefully some entertainment value. You have probably guessed that there is a lot yet to come and I will continue posting as long as readers indicate their interest.

My apologies! This chapter may meander even more than usual as it is part of a collection of several short 'day in the life' journal style entries which have been linked to make up Chapters 39-42.

Thank you to all readers who vote, leave public comments and send feedback, these things are important as it is the only indication of reader approval that an online author gets.

WARNING TO NEW READERS TO THE SERIES - This is a long, rambling story and VERY British which has been divided into several parts for ease of editing and reading. The individual parts will make more sense if read in sequence as they follow straight on chronologically and therefore new readers should start reading at NOVELS & NOVELLAS -- The Touch -- Chapter 1 -- Jamie's Story.

Most, but not all chapters contain some sexually explicit sections and the story has a strong incest theme which some readers may find disturbing and might wish to cease reading now...

*****

THE TOUCH Chapter 39 Finding Vera

With Emma away in France, Gwen and I intended to make the most of having the house to ourselves for a week. Gwen had managed to re-arrange her timetable so that she was working at Salisbury District Hospital most of that week which meant that she did not need to hurry off to work until eight o'clock in the morning and would be home early about six giving us the evenings together. The hardest thing about having an intimate relationship with your mother, an incestuous relationship, was the having to keep secrets, lie and hide away from those people that you both loved most, the other members of your family, knowing that the slightest error in judgement would hurt not just you but them as well. It was the heart-breaking, hateful price that Gwen and I had to pay for the joy that our special intimacy had brought us.

To be able to share the same bed ALL night, to be able to relax and enjoy each other's company without constantly being cautious that our body language might accidently betray our secret, or that an indiscreet word or comment might plant the seed of suspicion with the casual onlooker was a luxury that we did not often have and one to be treasured.

I think that we were now starting to come to grips with adapting our lives to our situation without having to totally hide from the outside world. In reality mothers and sons did do things together. Even before becoming lovers Mum and I had played sports together, taken walks in the country or on the beach, we went out for a meal or to the cinema, sometimes with and sometimes without Emma or family or friends. I had suddenly realised that nearly every time that I had encountered Georgia Craven out somewhere she had been escorted by her son Charles and all of a sudden I could name upwards of a half a dozen acquaintances or friends, mothers and sons who I had recently seen together shopping or dining out or walking the dog and nobody noticed them or considered their being together in the slightest bit strange or unusual.

We both had to work during the day but our evenings were blissful. Gwen was usually home a couple of hours before me and because of that on the first couple of evenings she had prepared me a super dinner and afterwards we just curled up on the sofa together with the remainder of the wine to read and just enjoy quietly being together. It had poured with rain both days and the evenings were unseasonably cool and so we were more than content to stay at home and bathe in the warmth of our mutual affection. Usually our gentle intimacy turned to desire and I would make both of us a large mug of hot chocolate with double cream and a slug of whisky which we took upstairs to Gwen's large, soft bed.

Perhaps because we knew that we could relax without having to watch the clock our love making was gentle and prolonged and I was able to explore every inch my gorgeous mother's fantastic body with hands and lips, both of us suspended in a pool of sensual joy centred on her soft mouth, probing tongue and gently rotating hips. We made love, slowly and tenderly for a long time our bodies almost motionless with just our loins moving gently in time with the low moans of ecstasy being drawn from both of us, her arms were tightly clamped around my neck and her legs entwined with mine until we both climaxed with an orgasm of total sexual gratification and emotional joy. Afterwards we lay in each other's arms still locked together with my prick still deeply embedded in her hot wet pussy, pecking at each other with small affectionate kisses until we were ready to make love again and again during the night. Our lovemaking was fabulous although it had a tendency to make both of us late to rise in the morning and I think we only managed breakfast at home one morning before rushing off to work with time for no more than a mug of coffee.

My love making with Gwen was absolutely the most wonderful experience but emotionally and physically exhausting and it left me more than content to sit in the office in the early morning a pot of black coffee to hand with nothing more arduous than pushing a pencil or drawing pen ahead of me until lunchtime. Grace and Suzan were surprised when each morning I came down to the restaurant about 08:30 and ordered a very large cooked breakfast, eggs, sausages, bacon and a fried slice; followed by toast and marmalade or rolls and cheese. I was not usually an early morning eater but this week I had a real appetite.

With Maggie and Emma both away I was pretty well confined to the garden centre for most of the working day. Tayler had turned out to be a brilliant addition to the staff and was perfectly capable of running the office unsupervised but everybody was more comfortable knowing that a member of the management team was on the premises, and I have personally always been a hands-on type of manager. In truth, whilst I enjoy getting out and physically participating in the manual labour of the gardening jobs, on that particular week, particularly as it was pissing down with rain on Monday and Tuesday, I was more than content to stay in the office and catch up on some of my paperwork which I had a tendency to neglect and spend some time working on the design projects which we hand in hand, particularly the background research into origins the Shelby House gardens and the provisional plans for Caroline's London roof garden. It was her party at her Bishopsdown house on Saturday and I had promised that I would attend and bring the rough drafts for the designs and so I needed to get something suitable onto paper by the end of the week.

Wednesday, the morning post delivered a couple of surprises. In amongst the usual business correspondence were a clutch of letters addressed personally to me. The first I recognised immediately and the sight of it scared me shitless... it was a pretty pink envelope with a hand written address ... The handwriting unmistakeably that of Kristen Olsen.

"Oh, Fuck!" I gasped, automatically looking over my shoulder to spot where Emma was before breathing a sigh of relief when I remembered that she was away...thank God!

"Is everything OK, Jamie?" Tayler asked, looking up from laying out the rest of the business mail on my desk.

"Yes, yes...everything is fine..." I lied. It was too late to hide the envelope and so I just muttered something about it being a thank you note from a customer and breathed a sigh of relief when Tayler just smiled disinterestedly and returned to her own office. She had become very matey with Emma since starting work at the centre and was probably aware of the dislike that my sister held for poor Kristen...and might even have been under orders to report back any enemy sightings.

In fact I was almost telling the truth. It was a short thankyou note from Kristen for the elephant soft toy that I had sent her as a gift and informing me that she would be spending the summer with relations in Sweden and inviting me to visit, with the address and telephone number in Stockholm. I folded the letter and tucked it into my wallet... I would lock it in my desk drawer at home later...I don't know why I decided to hang onto it as I had no intention of going to Sweden even though Kristen was a fantastic shag. I made a mental note to ask Emma to order one of those new electric shredding machines for the office when she returned...my sex life was becoming seriously complicated and I really did not need any sort of paper trail.

The second letter was more of a genuine surprise, a very pleasant one. The embossed logo on the envelope announced that the contents were from the local golf club, we did not have any real business dealings with the club at that time but had recently headhunted the best of their grounds staff, Colin and the new trainee Benson Pope. I had employed Benson on Colin's recommendation but knew that Emma would later have asked for references and suspected that this could have been their reply. In fact I was completely astounded when I read through the letter. It was from the club secretary and confirmed that my provisional membership to the golf club had been approved and was effective immediately and would become permanent upon presentation of a current Handicap Certificate, meantime I could play over the courses but could not participate in club competitions. There was a temporary membership card enclosed.

I was a bit mystified at first as I had not actually sent in my application for membership yet but reading on discovered that I had been put up for membership and sponsored by Georgia Craven and seconded by Maggie. Georgia had certainly not wasted any time after our conversation about my taking up golf again and she and Maggie obviously has some sway with the membership committee as there was long waiting list for new members. What really floored me was that my membership fees for the first year had been paid in advance. The membership fees were almost £1,500 far from the cheapest in the county. I was well able to afford the cost but was a little bit puzzled and rather astounded that Georgia should have paid the fees for me... I know that she was keen to have me as a future playing partner, although I suspected that she would have to compete with Maggie for my available course time... but she had already gifted me an expensive set of golf clubs and although she was a wealthy woman I was unsure about her sudden interest in me and why I was being showered with highly expensive gifts.

I needed to talk to Maggie about Georgia when she returned from France, she was not just my solicitor but was also a valued client of the garden centre and Craven Manor was one of our larger grounds maintenance contracts. Meanwhile, I knew that I was going to have to call Georgia and thank her... it would be churlish not to and the beautiful set of clubs and the membership were a fantastic gift which I could not help being overjoyed with. Perhaps, I thought, she had paid the fees with my money... as my solicitor she had access to my client account and was authorised to make payments on my behalf... but I did not think that she would do that without consulting me first... the fund was really for administration expenses and taxes.

I really enjoyed golf and was looking forward to playing regularly again. As a boy I was sports mad, I took golf lessons through my school until I was about fifteen, and spent time on the driving range when Maggie and Gwen were out on the course and often thrashed round the pay-and-play course with friends from school on 'junior's evening'. Emma could play but wasn't keen although she was a good tennis player and played with Mum a lot during those carefree summers. Expensive sports lessons and fees rather went by the board after Dad disappeared, Gwen had given up her golf club membership and I had sold my prized golf clubs to buy family Christmas presents that year. I was sorry to give up playing as I was beginning to become quite good and had just got my junior Handicap Certificate... that would have now long expired and I would need to arrange to bring my game up to scratch and get some handicap qualifier games organised if I was to be playing on the main club course. Golf was also something that Gwen and I could do together without attracting attention, I needed to talk to her about getting her own membership renewed at the club.

The last envelope contained a formal invitation card from Caroline Brookes for her party on Saturday, for Mr. James Riley & Companion, obviously sent out by her office but also contained a small handwritten note asking me to call at the house Friday evening and reminding me that my 'companion' was to be Becca Hill. I needed to call round or telephone Becca... I knew that she had completed the new painting for Caroline but wanted to make sure that she did not sell her talents short when Caroline wanted to discuss her fees for the paintings.

The same packet also contained the report that Caroline had commissioned from a structural engineer and official confirmation that separate planning permission would not be required from Westminster Council for the proposed roof garden at her London flat. Once the designs were approved by Caroline I would be able to meet with the engineer to get final confirmation of the weight bearing and waterproofing limits of her apartment roof before proceeding.

I decided to get the telephone calls made straight away. Georgia was not in her office but her secretary recognised my name and suggested that I might find her at her London house later in the day, she assumed that I had Georgia's home telephone number. Until that point I had not been aware that she had another house in London but it did seem right that she would not wish to commute back to Salisbury each and every day that she was at her London office, and I remembered her telling me that her father, a High Court Judge, had a house in central London somewhere.

I managed to catch Becca just as she was leaving her house to go into town and suggested that we met for lunch somewhere. "Oh, I would love to, Jamie dear..." She replied. "Why don't I pick you up around 12:30 at your office... we can try that new bistro on the Stratford Road... I've been looking for an excuse to go there..."

"That's great..." I knew that I would be bloody starving again by lunchtime. "...but lunch is my treat, OK..."

"Alternatively, you could always come over to my place... we could settle for a bowl of soup and hot rolls... Then make love in my little studio all afternoon..." She teased...at least I think she was teasing.

"Behave Becca," I scolded, laughing. "You are becoming decidedly wanton these days..." the idea of shagging with Becca all afternoon was very tempting, but... I really did have work to complete and so it would just have to stop at lunch.

"It is all your doing, Jamie dear..." She giggled, "You awakened my sexual desires...now you have to take the consequences...see you at lunch time..." We said our goodbyes and she put the telephone receiver down.

Thinking about making love to Becca Hill had made me a bit restless and so I took a walk around the garden centre, exchanged a few words with regular customers and touched base with all the team members who were working that morning and collected a mug of coffee from the restaurant then made my way to the growing area in search of Jack.

When the garden centre was re-modelled a row of custom designed tool and potting sheds had been built and Jack's old original wooden shed became redundant but the little building was retained as Jack's own 'cubby-hole', in which he could keep his personal tools and clothing and Maggie had donated an old armchair and an electric kettle so that he could take his breaks in comfort without the noise and bustle of the using the staff room. In his usual gruff manner he had called it 'a load of unnecessary stuff and nonsense' but was secretly as pleased as punch and had even brought in an old rug from home for the floor. The only person privileged enough to get space in his shed was Emma; Jack moaned about her 'cluttering his shed up' but still allowed her to put her bicycle in there during the summer and would have been offended if she had started to use the new staff bicycle racks.

I had brought down the first pass plans and sketches that I had made for Caroline's roof garden and spread them out on Jack's bench. My basic design incorporated putting in a false floor, with the garden area partly suspended above the existing roof so that much of the weight was directed to the surrounding parapet walls transferring the load downwards to the core structure of the building rather than onto the elderly raftered roof itself. Not only did the roof need to be able to support the additional weight of the plants and containers but there would be considerable traffic of people walking about and using the seating areas. A plastic drainage system would be installed which would direct rainwater and any addition moisture to the existing downpipe system. In order to reduce the weight and preserve moisture the planters were to be made of non-porous materials and would be filled with a mixture of specialist lightweight soil and compost over polystyrene drainage crocks. I had found a company at Slough who could cast fibreglass containers to our specifications which were lightweight, attractive and easily bolted into place and linked to the drainage system. Maggie had helped me with the structural designs; I never ceased to be amazed at her knowledge of the technical aspects of landscaping, not just the plants themselves but the building works, plumbing and electrics that all went to make up the more complex garden designs. I had pencilled in my ideas for the plants and shrubs to be used but wanted Jack's opinion as to the best varieties which would make a good all year round display and still be drought and frost resistant, and very importantly low maintenance.