"Y'know Joe. I know it's none of my business, and I really shouldn't say anything, but let's face it, I think I now know you two more intimately than probably your closest friends. But it seems to me you were closer to overlooking Debs, er, mistake on Friday, at least you were talking then. Now the pair of you seem to be waiting for each other to make it right, make it all go away. That's not going to happen. You need to work out whether you want to put your lives back together and walk away from this or not. I am not going to say it will be easy, you have a long hard struggle, each of you, but remember you are the victims here, and one thing is for sure, if you don't even try then those bastards have won."
Sandra's words pounded their way into my head.
She was wrong, her sentiment may be true, I wanted it to be true, but they had already won. I know because what we once had, was no more.
Still I moved to Deborah and opened my arms. She ran to me and buried her sobbing face into my chest. I held her tightly and I wept too.
I wept for my, our loss. I would never trust her again, I knew it and I think she did as well.
Sandra soon made herself scarce with no further exchange, letting herself out quietly. I watched her leave, my tears had gone and I was just feeling empty, her arms wrapped round me, making me feel both restrained and constrained. My eyes darted around the room, subconsciously looking for an excuse to let go of my wife. Thankfully an excuse rang the doorbell. The door fitters had finished and wanted me to check, and sign for the work done. I did the necessary and bunged them £30 each, not much; but it was all I had on me.
Once we had the house to ourselves we tried to talk. The trouble was, neither of us had the words, there was too much emotion, the wounds were too fresh, too deep.
Deborah just wanted to hold me, touch me in any way she could, I think so she could feel safe again. I didn't have that option, her touch didn't make me feel safe, I can't say it physically burned, but that is near to what it felt like. Every time she tried, I pushed her away.
We spent the rest of the day in the same manner. I tried to mong out in front of the telly, everyone of my normal shows seemed to be including a cheating slag of a wife in this weeks plot, even the Simpsons seemed too close to home.
Eventually I said sod it, and went to bed. Deborah joined me and tried to relax me, possibly seduce me, again I found her touch objectionable and pushed her away.
I don't think either of us slept well, for the third night in a row. She was still in bed when I left for work, perhaps both of us found the temporary respite easier, I know I did.
Jack was brilliant, his jovial nature and inane mocking at least gave me a break from the shit I had at home. After I dropped him off after work, I resolved to try harder, Sandra was definitely right about one thing, if we both didn't try, then it would never work.
I wanted to try, I really did. I let her greet me with a quick hug and a kiss. I told her about my day, asked her about hers. That all seemed to go well, but once we had done that, it was discomfort city all over again.
In bed I didn't push her away, but couldn't bring myself to touch her. When she took me into her mouth I did respond. I even started to enjoy the experience, then she moved to the sixty nine position.
I looked at her, her lips, gracing the opening into her body, those lips, the taste, texture, the lust and the love. I started to move my head to her as she brought herself down. "...your sluts up for it, I should know, I've been fucking her for weeks." Shaun's words echoed through my head, taunting me, removing my desire and angering me.
"What's wrong darlin'?" She asked as my now flaccid member slipped from her mouth.
I pushed her off me. "Sorry hun, but what that cunt said about fucking you jumped into my head, ruined the moment."
She looked ashamed, her eyes dropped down to the bed. I' I never, I didn't, you have to believe me, he lied darlin'." her voice fearful, broken. "Really you have to believe me."
I rolled over and faced away from her, I could feel her pain at my rejection. I heard her quiet sobs for a long time.
Angry semi random thoughts rebounded around my mind, the lies, whether she cheated, were there any more lovers, she was a whore, my pain, being forcefully tied, and many others, each one stinging my psyche with poisoned visions, each one reminding me of what had once been, and what had almost happened.
Eventually I fell asleep, trying to keep my thoughts from, Deborah, Shaun and the whole goddamn mess.
Thursday she gave me a blowjob, no frills, no attempt to get anything in return from me, the odd stray thought broke my concentration, my erection faltered but did not fail, eventually her devotions were rewarded.
"You needed that." she said as she pulled away from me.
I awoke the next morning and for the first time in what seemed like forever she was wrapped around me and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I didn't feel uncomfortable about it. She snuggled into me and again for the first time in a long time I smiled about it.
The next evening, I would like to say things were a bit better, but again once we had caught up and eaten I felt awkward. I was relieved when the doorbell rang. Deborah answered it.
Jack, and Paul his brother were ushered in. They wanted to take me down the pub, a lads night out they said. I looked at Deborah and she nodded.
They didn't take me my local or their normal haunt, instead they took me to an isolated pub known as the whore's drawers or to give the name on the sign outside the White Horse.
It wasn't a good pub, which explained why it was virtually empty on a Friday night.
We settled into a corner table near to a roaring open fire, to be honest about the only good thing the pub had going for it.
Paul looked at me once we were all sat.
"Right spill." he said.
"What?"
"You fucking know what, why did yer get to have a dead bloke in your house, what the fucks goin' on, did you kill him an' why?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." I answered. "I thought we were out for a good time."
"No mate, we know somethin's fucked up, and we wanna help." said Paul.
"I can't tell you, it's too personal." I replied, staring into my pint.
"Look mate, I might not be the brightest, but I have worked with you now for nigh on two year' an' we all know if it weren't for you giving me a chance back then I would be locked up now for sure. I know somethin's up an' I know it's fucked up." Jack said earnestly.
He was right, I had given him a job and then gone before the court to plead for him, all at Paul's request. It had worked, Jack had stopped hanging around with the wasters that had got him into trouble, at least long enough for him to see them for what they were, and for nearly all of them to get banged up. He had turned his life around, no more drugs apart from a bit of smoke, no more mstealing cars and trading of varying dubious circumstance. He was also right about it being fucked up.
"It's got somethin' to do with that Brian bloke, an' 'is missus' ain't it? asked Paul.
