Back To Bristol Ch 18

The meal that evening was fairly desultory, although the food was good. We talked about neutral things, we agreed that maybe we should start talking in earnest about private schools for the boys from September, especially as she now lived outside of the proper catchment area for their current school. Then we talked safely about old friends and acquaintances, ones we'd lost because of the divorce, or because I'd moved away, or because they'd moved away.

And that led to my mentioning that I'd met up with Keith and Anne Walters, and that they were now living in San Diego. Which in turn led to a conversation about life on the West Coast of the States. Which in turn led to Molly talking about how she had always wanted to visit Las Vegas.

Now my first visit to Las Vegas was about nine months after our divorce. And my memory was of a really charming and quite beautiful girl who I picked up in a bar at about eleven o'clock one night, and by two o'clock she was in my bed at my hotel. She really was a nice person and the sex was good if pretty vanilla. But my real memory was of me coming out of the bathroom the next morning, and she was just waking up, with her long brunette hair splayed across the pillow, and she opened her eyes and saw me and smiled. A pretty, soft and loving smile. I just looked at her coldly, and told her that I was off to a breakfast meeting, and that she was welcome to call room service for some breakfast, and that I'd see her around. My very last memory of her was with a tear rolling down her face, as I walked out.

And so Molly got the full benefit of my bitter lecture on how her fucking stupid thoughtlessness, her selfish lust, lead to hurt and pain for others. "Throw a pebble into a pond and there are ripples, Molly. Just because you wanted to be fucked by Peter Davies one afternoon, some poor girl who you don't know, haven't met and probably will never meet, ends up in tears in a hotel bedroom in Las Vegas."

Molly turned and looked at me, her eyes were blazing, "No, Chris. No. I'll take the blame for what I did wrong. I'll go to my grave feeling guilty about that. But I am not going to be blamed for what you did some eighteen months later and some five thousand miles away, to some girl who I've never met. That was your choice, Chris. You were a grown man and a responsible adult. I didn't reduce that girl to tears, you did." Her voice was full of anger and choking with emotion, her eyes were streaming tears. She stood up and stormed from the room, heading for the front door.

I caught up with her in the hall. I grabbed her arm, "Don't go....."

"Why not? So that you can find an argument that you can hang on me. I've heard it Chris. I know it Chris. And I don't need it, not anymore."

"Because.......Because...."

Because what? Because I loved her? Or needed time to say sorry? Or because we couldn't end this way? I was just choosing my words, and looking at her with tears in my eyes.

She took one step towards me, and put her arms around me and simply kissed me, fully on the mouth. And I kissed her back. And on the second kiss, my arms went round her, and I kissed her harder.

Eventually, our heads parted and I looked into her eyes, "Let's go to bed." was all I said, and I took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

She didn't say a word, but she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. Under it she was wearing a matching bra and thong in coffee silk and cream lace, and hold-up stockings and high heeled sandals. And she looked fabulous.

I can't say we made love, but it was hell of a lot more than just fucking. There was no foreplay, no oral either way. And it was all missionary position. I changed with the waves of emotion that rolled over me, sometimes I pumped very, very slowly, and watched her, propping myself up on straightened arms above her. Other times, I hammered into her, with my face pressed into her neck and the pillow above her shoulder. I did notice that whenever possible, she watched me. I've never made love to Molly before when she hasn't shut her eyes, but except for when she rode her orgasms, she watched me, looking into my face whenever she could.

Eventually, I came in a sweaty, thumping, pile driving final couple of minutes. And I rolled off her.

As we lay quietly, getting our breath back and staring at the ceiling, Molly asked in a quiet voice, "Why? Why now? Why as I was about to walk out?"

I paused to choose my words, "Because I suddenly saw something that I hadn't realised was missing, but I need so much." I propped myself up my elbow and looked at her, "For a big part of my life I'm a professional managing director. Its what I am, its who I am. And I become the team leader, the businessman; the man who watches for effectiveness and efficiency; who cares about use of assets and how markets are moving. But, I never have a true in depth knowledge or experience of the industry I'm in, it's not the ITI way. So, it's very easy for me to talk absolute crap. To say something that I think is brilliant and very profound, but actually is total bullshit. And very few people will tell me so. Piers probably would. Carole definitely would, if she got to hear of it. Neil might, if it was something professional about HR and Group policy. But the others, I doubt it. They might suggest that we revisit the idea later, or that maybe a consultant should be called in to look at it, but not actually say to me what needs to be said, that it was a crap idea." I paused and put my arm across her body, just below her breasts, "But, suddenly I saw the old Molly. The one who wouldn't take crap from me. And I need that, deep down I need it a lot."

I flopped back down to stare at the ceiling again. But then a thought crossed my mind, "You were dressed rather nicely under that dress tonight. Did you know this would happen?"

She laughed, "No. If you'd made this move on any of the evenings we've had together in what? Eight weeks? You'd have found me in nice bra's and thongs or strings or lacy panties, and stockings. Tonight, when I showered, I wondered, should I bother? I really thought we were through. I think I dressed as a one last show of bravado for my own sake."

"I'm glad you did."

"I could do it again, if you like."

"Have sex or wear sexy lingerie?"

She knelt up alongside me, looking down. "Both." She said, with a smile. She looked down at my cock, and there appeared to be some hesitation about her.

"What is it?" I asked, concerned she'd seen something nasty.

She looked back at, right into my eyes, "Are we talking again? Are we going to be doing this again?"

"I hope so. Why?"

"Because I was about to do something that I've wanted to do for so long. I was going to suck you. Do you know, I realised that I can't really remember what you taste like, what you smell like? And I've wanted to be able to do that for so long. I know I used to love sucking you, it really was important to me to be that close to you. And I haven't been able to do that for years." She gave me a serious look, "I really have missed you Chris, remember I haven't had any man in my mouth for so long. And I was just about to do it, but I realised that you probably smell and taste a bit of me at the moment, and that's not what I want." She smiled, "Not that I object to sucking you after you've been in me, but I want just pure you. So, I'll do that another time."

"Let's make it a date. How's Thursday in your diary? I could manage having a blow job on Thursday, and I'd hate you to have to go too much longer without satisfying your curiosity."

She smiled. "I could manage that."

"Fancy a coffee?" I asked, I didn't want to break up the sex, but I did want to talk. So, when she said Yes, I told her to wait there, in bed, and I went off to the kitchen and came back with two mugs of coffee.

Once we were settled again, I said "Can we go back to the fateful afternoon a moment? I have a question."

Molly was obviously listening and waiting, so I continued, "It's something Jeanette said. She suggested that one of the reasons for your mistake may have been that we had fallen into the habit of safe, vanilla sex, because of the boys and the general pressures of life. That having spontaneous sex was normal and exciting and you missed it, and happily responded when it was available, but it was just the wrong man."

She thought about that for quite some time, sipping her coffee. "It's not an excuse. You know that, don't you Chris? I'm not making excuses. But, Yes, I did miss some of the naughtier things we used to do. But I don't know if it influenced me that afternoon or not, and certainly not consciously."

"I missed them too. I just thought it was something that went with having two little boys running around the place. The kitchen table in the middle of Sunday afternoon was out." I said with a laugh.

She smiled, "Do you remember our first house, before Jamie. It might have been the cause of Jamie, come to think of it. Every room, including that silly little guest toilet. I put so much pressure on that door that time, with my foot sticking straight out, that the door lock always used to jam slightly from that day on. It always made me smile when a guest could be heard rattling the door before it would open."

"Well, maybe there's a lesson in this to be learnt by both of us."

She raised her coffee mug in a toast, "To slightly kinky, spontaneous, sex. But in private."

And privately, to myself, I promised we would just gently push the envelope.

On Wednesday, my mood must have been obvious, because Carole brought me my first cup of coffee, looked at me and said, "Well, obviously you sorted something out last night, and you are happy with it."

I smiled, "I had a long talk to the delectable Molly. It was a bit touch and go at times, but we got there." And I winked.

She smiled, "And you delected! Well that explains a lot. But it is good progress. Immoral, but good progress."

"Why immoral?"

"Because she is a married woman, and not to you. That was the problem in the first place." She paused, "But I guess to the Catholics you're still married first time around, so I guess they wouldn't mind."

"I'm not a theologian, but I think even they may find fault with that argument."

"Well, while you're in a good mood, let me spoil it for you."

"What?" I said with trepidation.

"The powers that be want you at their strategy planning conference in Cannes, Friday to Sunday, 17th to 19th of August. To be followed by attending and speaking at the Group Conference in Hawaii, 3rd to 7th of September."

"Nice places." I said, forlornly. "In business terms it could make me, but in private terms I'm not so sure. I assume I don't have an option."

"Not really. And you can nominate two ordinary members of staff to go to the Hawaii conference with you. And can I come? I've never been to Hawaii, please Sir, please. I promise to be good. Pretty please."

I smiled, "What do they mean by ordinary? And aren't any other directors invited?"

"I don't know, the guide lines vaguely refer to executives who make an outstanding contribution. And no other directors are going. It is an exercise in corporate communication and involvement." She shrugged, and added, "Don't ask me."

"Well, I guess the obvious two are Piers McBaine and Stephen Hobbs. That way there is a representative of all three establishments. And they'll be good company if I'm going to be trapped in some hotel with them. But you'd better check that they are acceptable before you say anything." I paused, "So who's waiting outside, queuing to see me?"

"Myra, with the Abbey development project."

"Then send in the delected Myra."

"I'd forget about that if I were you." Carole said as she left my office.

The meeting with Myra was good. There are occasional business colleagues where you know how they're thinking, and they know how you're thinking. And when you're both on the same side it saves so much time and trouble. I agreed to setting up a group to work with an architect to design new, purpose built laboratories. And I promised to tell Piers all about it, and to launch the project. What I also knew, and didn't talk about, is that Peter Davies has to be a member of that project.

On the Thursday, I got in to find Molly cooking in the kitchen. She greeted me with a big smile, and came over to me and kissed me on the lips. Then she stood back and looked worried.

I held both her hands, "I meant it on Tuesday, it wasn't a dream, we are back on some sort of track, to see where we end up. As I promised you at Longleat."

She kissed me again, "And I meant it on Tuesday, you've got a date with a blow job. Remember?"

"I'll let you into a secret, men tend not to forget that sort of appointment. What do you fancy, a glass of wine or a little taster?"

"I fancy a little taster, but I'll have a glass of wine."

"How about both?" I asked with a hopeful smile....

And from that night on, we were back to where we were before I'd done my best to spoil it all. But there were two major changes. First, there was sex. Great sex. Second, there was a major change in me. I still didn't know if we could put it all back together again, but now I wanted Molly and my family back in my life like I've never wanted anything before.

The sex was so important. I guess it released us from all the frustrations and tensions that a celibate life would have imposed. But it was so much more than that. It allowed us to talk. All the delicate discussions that both of us would have had difficulty with, normally because of the fear of hurting the other one, became possible in that open, honest, relaxed atmosphere after sex.

We also relaxed a little from the rigidity of the Tuesday and Thursday night schedule. In fact, on that first Saturday, I took her to the theatre, and for dinner afterwards, although we scrupulously and without a word being said avoided significant restaurants in King Street. I did note in my mind that there was another hurdle to be overcome. I wouldn't have no go areas in my life, and certainly not ones created by Peter Fucking Davies.

I'm not saying our relationship was easy, because it wasn't. It was easy in parts. We seemed to have an understanding, that we were in each others lives, and maybe that was going to be true for the rest of our lives. And we were happy and easy around each other. But we still had a lot of issues to work out, and we were a long way from living happily ever after.

For the rest of July we were on some sort of high of having rediscovered each other sexually, but that calmed down by the last Tuesday of the month, which was the last day of the month. We again talked about the boys schooling, and agreed that for their sake it would be better to leave them where they were for another term. Officially their address was still Peter and Molly's old house, so they did officially live in the correct catchment area, and we had no idea where Molly was going to live in the long term, and they had enough going on in their lives, they didn't need to change to a new and temporary school.

We also agreed that they needed a holiday, and we spent a large part of the evening sitting up in bed, after the sex, booking Molly and the boys to go and stay in a nice looking villa in Majorca for the two weeks that started on the day I would fly to Cannes.

And, finally, the month ended on a down note, when Molly told me that her Aunt Brenda had phoned her. Apparently, she was mystified with all that was going wrong in Susan's life, and needed to talk to someone. Ralph had basically put the phone down on Derek when he'd tried, so Brenda was trying with Molly. But Molly didn't want to talk to anyone associated with Susan. So she asked me to do it. Great! More bloody Susan.

So, I did phone Brenda, but they couldn't meet me in the evenings, because they ran a guest house, and I didn't want to meet in the daytime because I liked to work for my living. Eventually, I agreed to meet both Brenda and Derek, but definitely not Susan, in my office on the Friday, for a sandwich lunch. Bloody Friday again!

They arrived late, which annoyed me more. I looked at them, Brenda was obviously Susan's sister, slightly older, but she had kinder eyes and a warmer smile. Derek had a cheerful, open face and a ready smile. I thought they seemed right somehow for running a seaside guesthouse.

Apparently they'd had an unhappy guest that morning that had delayed them, and I understood from the "So, it's all the more important that we understand what's been going on." comment that Susan had upset the guest.

Once we'd sat down, and had chosen our drinks from the cans that Carole had laid out, I held out my hands as an invitation to start talking.

Derek started, "Well, first, thank you Chris for seeing us. I hope you can help. Let me explain, from our point of view." He paused and took a breath, "Some weeks ago Susan phoned and said she wanted to get away for a bit, could she come and stay? We sort of read between the lines that she and Ralph had some sort of problem, so we said yes. But it was low season, and she could actually help. It would save us a week or two of taking on seasonal staff, and we weren't fully booked, so she was welcome to use a bedroom. But that was weeks ago, and it is now high season. And Ralph is divorcing her, and she's very upset. We can understand that, but she tends to talk to some of the guests, and she can go on a bit about her troubles, and it's all becoming a bit of a problem."

I smiled, "I can understand that. But, she has money. I can't believe that Ralph is not making her an allowance. So why not charge her?"

"Well, it's a bit awkward. She is Brenda's sister, and she is going through a bad patch, and we said she could stay if she helped out a bit. And she's doing that, sort of. But she's in a guest bedroom, not a staff room, and it's all been going on too long."

"Well, I'm not sure there is anything I can do. Ralph's divorcing her, his mind is made up. She's got to start building her own life. Why not encourage her to rent a flat somewhere?"

Brenda put her sandwich down and asked, "Do you know why Ralph is divorcing her? We don't. I'm not sure that Susan really understands, she knows he's upset with her over something she said or did to Molly, but apparently that was years ago. We know that Molly is upset with her as well. We were wondering if you could talk to Molly, get her to patch things up with Susan, then Ralph might forgive her or whatever. And even if he doesn't, then maybe Susan could go and live with Molly for a bit, we understand that Molly's marriage has fallen apart as well, and she used to be so close to her mother, they might get on well at the moment. They're both sort of in the same boat."

I chewed on my ham and salad sandwich, and then I drank some of my orange juice, very aware that there were two expectant faces looking at me, watching me. I was wondering just how much I should say, but the truth seemed the easiest answer. So I did, in fairly short and concise terms, tell them the truth as I knew it.

They asked a couple of questions along the way, and I was just finishing with "So, Molly's divorce comes up on September 12th. And Molly and myself talk a lot, but whether we'll actually get back together I don't know. One thing I'm certain about is that at the moment, Molly wants to have nothing to do with her mother whatsoever. Personally, that worries me a bit, but as for Ralph, I think he's just decided that he'd be happier without her than with her." Just then, Carole put her head round the door, I guess she was just back from her own lunch and thought Brenda and Derek either never showed or would be gone by now.

Brenda and Derek looked at each other. I felt they didn't know what to say. I had realised from the questions they asked, Susan had given them some idea of what the problems were, without ever telling them the full story.