My wife Harriet looked just like Sophia Loren. In case you don't know who that is then let me tell you she was (and still is perhaps) a very famous Italian actress and back in the day very beautiful and sexy with what I can only describe as erotic magnetism. They say that "beauty is only skin deep" well not in her case and that is what made her so special. If you don't believe me just "google" her and you'll see what I mean. She was certainly very majestic. She was tall with a tremendous figure fully rounded hips a wonderful bust and long legs. Her face was oval shaped with big dark eyes and a full mouth and a firm nose. Some thought that her mouth was perhaps a bit too wide and her nose a bit too long but I thought they were just perfect. Others thought her mediterreanen completion too dark. But I loved it all. I loved every bit of her. If she had imperfections then they worked perfectly together to create a woman of quite magical qualities. I Loved the way she walked; it was so graceful with a gentle swaying motion like a ballet dancer or a model on a catwalk. She had more sex appeal with her clothes on than many women have with their clothes off. When she came into a room you couldn't take your eyes off her. And I loved the sound of her voice which was deep and strong and gave her a very imposing presence a woman who knew her own worth and nobodies fool. My wife was just like that. And it wasn't just me who thought so everyone who met her thought so too.
When we announced our engagement everyone envied me my incredible good fortune. They couldn't believe it and nor could I. Nobody in real life married a woman who looked like a glamorous film star and certainly not blokes like me. I was young when we got married and looking back perhaps I was too young but I was besotted with her I couldn't see straight or think straight. I was dancing on air, I really was. Getting Harriet to the alter was a schoolboy fantasy come true. Every man who ever saw her fell in love with her and wanted her. But the only man she wanted and loved was me.
Me!
Yet happy as I was there was also a nagging doubt in my head and a quiet fear in the back of my mind. I was scared that I would make her unhappy and so I was determined to prove to her that she hadn't made a mistake in marrying me and that I was worthy of her. I promised myself to provide for her and give her the kind of life a woman like her deserved. A beautiful woman like her needs a beautiful home and wear beautiful clothes and have beautiful things. She needed to be worshipped and shown off as the goddess and princess that she really was. So after we had returned from our honeymoon and settled into our new home I started to work all the hours that God sent me. I always came home very tired but I was always very happy.
And I enjoyed our love life too. We were both young on our wedding night and neither of us had had much experience when it came to sex and Harriet was very shy and reserved in bed. She always insisted that we have sex in our bed with the lights off. It was as if she felt guilty about wanting sex and shy about her body. But I didn't worry about the details. What did technique and experience matter when you were in bed with the woman you loved. Besides, experience and technique would come with time and make our loving making even better. But I also have to admit I found her shyness and sense of modesty assuring because it was proof of her virtue.
Then one evening there was a knock on our door. I wasn't expecting anyone and so when I opened the door I got the shock of my life. Because standing there was my father. I hadn't seen him for twenty years ever since he had walked out on my mother and me when I was twelve years old. I'll never forget the day when I had come home from school to see my mother sitting in the kitchen clutching a letter crying her eyes out. I knew that something terrible had happened but it was some time before my mother could bring herself to tell me that my dad had left and was never coming back. I was stunned and in a state of shock. Of-course I asked why and it was only later that I found out that he had run off with his secretary and in the process had left my mother and me high and dry. My mother felt hurt and angry and I was hurt and angry too. I wanted to know why he had done it but I never found out. I always hoped and dreamed that one day he would come back but he never did.
So you can imagine my surprise when I now actually saw him standing on my front doorstep with a big smile on his face acting like he'd just come back from the shops. Astonished as I was a quickly regained my composure.
"What the hell do you want?"
"To see you of-course my boy. To see you!"
"You've seen me. Goodbye."
My father laughed good naturedly. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"No."
"That's no way to speak to your father".
"But you don't get it. I don't want to speak to you."
But Harriet did. Wondering what on earth was keeping me she had come to the door to find out. I had to tell her who the stranger standing on our porch was. She seemed delighted to meet my father and held out her hand.
"I'm so pleased to meet you."
"And I'm even more pleased to meet you," he replied bending down to kiss her hand.
Harriet was thrilled by the chivalrous gesture and without thinking to ask me invited him in.
I followed them as she led him into the living room wondering what on earth was going on. Why had he come back and what did he want? I knew he had come for a reason and it wasn't to see me. Harriet on the other hand went out of her way to make him feel welcome He was given a tour of my house and there were endless gasps of admiration as he went from room to room.
"You've done well for yourself. I'm proud of you my boy?"
He examined the paintings on the wall as if he was a connoisseur and fiddled with the expensive ornaments that decorated the house as if he was some sort of expert on Art. And he examined my wine cellar as if he was an authority. He congratulated me on my good taste and he especially appreciated my good eye when it came to the ladies and nodding his head in Harriet's direction he asked, "where did you find her my boy? She is a fine young filly!" adding she's "a sight for sore eyes and no mistake" as he literally undressed her with his eyes. He gave me a hearty clap on the back and said, "it's good to see that the acorn hasn't fallen far from the tree" as if it was an achievement he could be proud of and take credit for. As if he thought it showed that I was worthy of him and had a right to be his son.
After that first surprise visit he was always coming round and Harriet always seemed pleased to see him and it didn't take him long to make himself right at home and he wasted no time in treating my house as if it was his. To my annoyance Harriet seemed to enjoy his visits and disapproved of my very cool attitude towards him and told me that I should show him a bit more respect and reminded me that "he is still your father" and that I should put the past behind me and forgive him and try to build a new relationship with him. To her his life was a woeful tale of tragedy and regret and took him at his word when he said he wanted to make it up to me. He regaled her with stories about his life and was quite open about walking out on my mother and me. His explanation was that he had married too early and found the responsibilities of caring for a wife and child too much "I couldn't handle it," he said "and I panicked and ran." But, he explained to Harriet, he was older and wiser now and wanted to make good the hurt he had caused. To me that was all bullshit. No one put a gun to his head did they? It was my dad who had decided to marry my mum. He was the one who had gone on bended knee and begged her to marry him and yet fifteen years later had changed his mind and had simply vanished.
His faults were obvious to me and it astonished me that she couldn't see them too when normally she was so astute in reading people because there were no flies on Harriet but when it came to my father she seemed to have a blind spot for some reason. But he didn't fool me for a minute. I knew him for what he was. He was morally slippery. He was full of shallow charm and bar room bonhemie. But to her he was a poor lonely old man who wanted to be given a chance to make up for the things he had done in his past and she told me off for being so hard on him.
Even worse I didn't like the way he was always buying presents for my wife and taking her out shopping even taking her to the theatre and restaurants when I was at work. But I felt powerless to do anything about it because Harriet made it clear that she was enjoying all the attention she was getting and my father merely said that he was keeping Harriet from being lonely and bored.
"It's a crime to keep this wonderful creature copped up at home," he chided me. That infuriated me. He was implying that I was neglecting her and it angered me that Harriet seemed to be taking his side when she knew how I felt about him.
Most of all though what worried me was that my father's presence was in danger of causing a rift between me and Harriet. She laughed at his jokes especially when they were at my expense. One day she mentioned that we were trying for a baby and my dad quipped, "Maybe you should try harder!".
Harriet laughed and then said, "he's doing his best." Then it was my father's turn to laugh, "That's my boy!" he said mockingly as he patted me on the shoulder.
And my dad would tell her endless stories about his love life and when Harriet asked him one day the best way to seduce a woman he gave her a wicked and said, "I put them over my knee and give her a good spanking!"
