This is the third story of the Bangor series, but a standalone story in its own right that does not require you to have read the previous instalments. The first two stories involved Mark's sexual discoveries. Here, we focus on his wife Jean and her visit to her friend Rebecca.
**************************************************
The satnav in the car directed Jean to a row of Georgian redbrick houses, quite close to the centre of Bangor. Jean knew that Rebecca and Peter were financially comfortable, but she never expected such a fine residence.
The drive had given Jean plenty of time to ponder why it was her that Rebecca had called in her hour of need. Yes, they were very close when they were in college, but that was fully a decade ago. The truth is that both women had moved on with their lives, been married, moved from their homes. Surely Rebecca, the bubbly thin blonde with the outgoing personality to match her looks had gained new friends since those days.
It wasn't that they had lost contact. Jean and Rebecca spoke on the phone a couple of times each year, swapped Christmas cards, birthday presents, and even met up most summers. But for Jean at least, she would no longer consider Rebecca a confidant. Her closest friends now were probably her workmates Sinead and Emily, or maybe her sisters in law Elaine and Kyra. She wondered; how difficult must Rebecca's life be now to have to go back to her old college roommate for support?
Near the end of the tree lined street, Jean turned into the grey pebble drive. Unsure of quite what she was walking into Jean steadied herself before opening the car door to get out and take her bags from the boot. She had packed several different outfits, from the most basic casual wear to formal evening wear, she was prepared for all scenarios.
Jean had been into the office that morning trying to clear her desk before the week off. She was still wearing her office attire, a white blouse under a fitted black ladies suit jacket, the black and white complimenting her Auburn hair that draped and curled over her shoulders. She wore a charcoal pencil skirt over a pair of transparent black tights, with the office look rounded off by a pair of shiny black pumps. Jean liked this outfit simply because it fitted her at size 10. Having quite a curvy figure she often needed size 12 to fit her chest and hips.
Jean walked up to the glossy royal blue painted front door, finding it slightly ajar, and rang the doorbell. She waited. Rang it again. Waited. She knocked, called Rebecca's name, but no answer. Finally, Jean pushed the door and let herself in. With no sign of Rebecca, she checked the living room. Coffee cups, plates with crusts of bread, clothes strewn on the floor, the place was not quite upside down, but for Rebecca, who had always been meticulously tidy, this was a total mess.
Jean made her way back to the front door. As she did, she heard a call from the top of the stairs.
"Jean! Sorry I was having a rest!"
At the top of the stairs was the short, thin figure of Rebecca, silhouetted by the light from the window on the upstairs landing.
"Rebecca, thank heavens, I was worried. Did you know your front door was left open?"
"Eh...," Rebecca stumbled with her words, "yes I left it open for you".
Jean knew that she was lying, the girl was clearly a bit of a wreck. Jean moved towards the stairs and held her arms out.
"Come here to me," she said.
As Rebecca descended the light balanced out on her visage and it was then she noticed the changes in her friend. Rebecca was always petite, but she had clearly lost weight. She had also cut her hair, now sporting a blonde pixie cut. Worryingly though she could see the yellow marks of a fading bruise above her eye and down the side of her face.
"Oh hunny!" As Rebecca came closer Jean placed a hand on the bruised side of the face, took a brief moment to examine it, then pulled her friend into a tight hug.
Holding Rebecca's body tight to her own, Jean could feel Rebecca's ribs through her grey cotton tracksuit.
"Have you been taking care of yourself, have you been eating?" Jean questioned, with a clear concern in her voice.
"Yes, I.., well I haven't been that hungry," Rebecca replied.
"Well tonight I am making dinner," said Jean, pulling the slight girl tight again and giving her a peck on the cheek in a reassuring way. Rebecca blushed.
"There's no need, really".
"I insist," Jean answered back quickly. Then parting from Rebecca, she started up the stairs. "Which room am I in?"
"The large room at the back. Do you mind if I wait here while you get settled?" Rebecca enquired.
"Of course, I will be down in a while." Jean smiled back.
***********************************
It was 7pm and Jean was busy putting the final touches on the Moroccan lamb stew that had been simmering away on the hob for the past few hours. A good filling meal is just what Rebecca needed. Rebecca appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, still clad in her ill-fitting grey cotton tracksuit. "I have the fire lit now I am just going to shower and change before dinner," she said.
"You are fine as you are Rebecca. Here, sit into the table we can eat now."
Rebecca did not need a second invite. She sat up at the kitchen island and Jean duly placed her dinner in front of her. The moment the plate was put in front of her Rebecca grabbed the spoon and dived into the food. By the time Jean sat in beside her the plate was half cleared.
Rebecca only stopped to ask, "Are you sure you are comfortable?" She looked down to see Jean's tight skirt riding up her thighs as she clung to the high stool. She did not look comfortable.
"Don't worry about me, you eat up." Jean smiled and placed one hand on Rebecca's upper arm. Rebecca responded by smiling and placing one hand on her thigh.
Jean was a little surprised by Rebecca's touch. Looking up she locked eyes with Jean. "Thank you. Thank you for everything." Rebecca smiled then lifted her hand and continued on with her meal.
After dinner the two women sat on the sofa. Rebecca fetched them both generous glasses of Irish Cream Liquor. Sitting in front of the blazing fire Rebecca opened up about the torment that she had been through, Peter's physical and psychological abuse, how it had worn her down to a point that she felt worthless. Eventually Rebecca was close to tears, and Jean pulled her in close once again so that she could rest her head on Jean's chest. Jean stroked her blonde hair and reassured her that things would get better.
Rebecca was joyed by Jean's reassurances. Jean had always been so calm, so wise in stressful times, she was the first friend she called when Peter left. Indeed, she was the only friend she could think of. Without noticing, her circle of friends had shrunk since she was married. She had blamed herself for not making enough effort, but with Peter gone, she was starting to get perspective. It wasn't that she didn't have time for friends, but that Peter did not allow her time. Part of the reason she now felt so lost was that she had unknowingly become used to his controlling, domineering manner. He was gone now, and while she could feel a weight lifted, she was unused to being free. Her life, her interests, her personality, all of which had been buried, were slowly re-emerging, and in truth she was not sure how to handle it.
Rebecca actually felt herself relax slightly as she rested on the cushion of Jean's large round breasts which slowly lifted with every breath. It was a tender moment the like of which she had not enjoyed in years. The feeling of Jean's soft fingertips on her scalp. How nice it was to have this kind of physical contact instead of the violence that had come to dominate Peter's nature.
It hadn't slipped Jean's notice that for the second time that evening Rebecca had rested her hand on Jean's satin clad thigh. What had slipped her attention was that Rebecca was slowly drifting off to sleep.
Looking down at her sleeping friend Jean could see past the changes. She did not see the new haircut, the shapeless clothes or the fading bruise. Instead, she saw the cute nose, the full red lips, the perfect cheekbones- the pretty face of her old college pal.
Jean gave Rebecca's arm a gentle stir. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
***********************
With Rebecca back in her own room, Jean set about dressing the bed in the spare room. It was clear that Rebecca hadn't changed the sheets in some time, but Jean didn't mind.
Lying in bed drifting towards sleep she thought about how pleasant it had been to embrace her friend. She thought of her husband Mark and their lack of intimacy. Her encounter with Rebecca had reminded her of the kind of intimacy that they used to enjoy every day, but was now rare - not the sex - that had reduced too - but the close physical contact.
Jean drifted off to sleep, but woke up again, this time with fright as the sound of a shriek carried through from Rebecca's room. She jumped out and ran straight for the other bedroom. She was met with the sound of moans as she found Rebecca tossing and turning under the duvet.
Jean bent over the side of the bed and rubbed Rebecca's arm. "Shush, shush..." she repeated. Rebecca's eyes opened.
"What, where am I, where is he?" asked Rebecca in her confused state. "Jean, oh Jean I'm sorry did I wake you? I was dreaming, I'm so sorry."
