Invisible

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This work has been edited and supported by, sucking up lots of their time and effort,

29wordsforsnow

. Until I really started using editors, I never appreciated the time it took, and other than a mention here, I feel they are those working away in the background invisibly , helping Literotica making it the great place it is to share stories.

This is an entry for the

Winter Holiday 2024

bash. Be warned, it's long, so it may not be for you if you like a shorter tale. I'm a Brit, so English from this side of pond. It covers some subject matter that I have no real depth of knowledge in, particularly legal matters. This is a work of fiction, it's not real life, merely shadows and reflections from our world transposed into the world of Literotica, so the laws of Literotica-world rule.

Some of this story has pieces taken from people I've known throughout my life, and how they were treated so poorly and unjustly, in two instances, with tragic results. RIP gents. Lastly, and individuals where acts of sex are described, are at least eighteen years of age.

Here we go, welcome to....

Invisible

As my eyes slowly flickered open, the faint hint of winter's dark grey light filtered through the edge of the blinds, allowing just enough of it to define objects in the room. Under the warm duvet, the perfectly shaped peach of an arse nestled against my morning wood. Like many times in the past, it felt so damned good! Gently moving my hips with a slight thrust, there was a soft murmur of acceptance accompanied by the bubble butt pushing ever so slightly back against me.

Carefully sliding my hand between us, I aligned my cock to slowly rub and saw gently against the two luscious folds of flesh at the juncture of her legs. With a subtle shuffling of her body, the alignment became perfect for my cock to glide more accurately within the vee of the dampening lips of her womanly treasures. Then, she woke sufficiently from her own slumber to process the reality of our actions.

"

No,

Greg, not now, we need to save all of our energy for tonight."

With that, she moved what had been tantalising close out of reach by slowly rolling onto her back. Despite being physically close to me, she may have been in New Zealand. It would have made no difference.

"Luce, that's not fair. Christ, you bailed out of Christmas eve as you said you'd drunk too much at your end of year office piss-up, Christmas night it was a headache and Boxing night we were at your parents and you said you were too embarrassed to make any noise. We're in our late thirties, I'm fairly sure they know we've been having sex together for the last fifteen years of marriage."

She rolled over to face me, her curly ginger hair half-covering her face. That cute, sexy pixie mouth moved towards me, planting a small kiss on my forehead.

"Please, Greg, not this again. Is that all you worry about these days, how frequently we have sex together? You know things are tough at work. There's three of us vying for the directorship since ole' Jessop passed away, I'm having to work my tits off to keep myself in the running."

I sighed.

"Babe, I understand that, but you've cut me off completely for weeks, I'm lucky to get a peck on the forehead these days!"

She put on a pout face.

"That's not true, we made love..."

Then she started to think. I let her think about it for several seconds before putting her out of her misery.

"It was November the fourth, the day before your birthday. If you remember, I'd booked us a surprise stay in the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel along with a romantic meal. At the start of that week, when I asked that, on the night of the fifth, for you to be home on time for your birthday because I had a special surprise, you told me you had to go to Manchester on the evening of the forth and it would be an overnight stay for the Friday and Saturday too, as you were expected to wine and dine the clients. It was a Friday night, you've never stayed on from a work stay into a weekend. When I explained to you what I'd organised, you said the trip was important, you

had

to go as it was all wrapped up in this bloody promotion.

Doesn't matter I lost seven hundred pounds as I couldn't cancel the suite and restaurant booking. You gave me a pity fuck that night, so I'm not even sure we can count that date either!"

She looked at me with her puppy dog eyes.

"I said I was sorry back then, don't make me sad again. I told you to go, not to lose the money. I've eaten there before, the food's exquisite."

Like when this all originally kicked off, I could feel the anger rising like bile from within, it showed with my sarcastic response.

"Yeah, that would have been great. Celebrating my wife's birthday on my own, a sad fucker having a candlelight dinner alone. Anyway, when did you have dinner there? You've never mentioned it."

With that she threw the covers from the bed, turning quickly and stomping to the bathroom with a throw away comment as she went.

"For God sake, Gregory, stop behaving like a spoiled child. I said sorry several times since then, just drop it now, OK? If I get that promotion, maybe we can go together, my treat. As for eating there, it was with a client. Jesus, do you want a daily schedule from me now?"

As she slammed the en-suite door shut and locked it, I lay back on the bed, looking up to the ceiling. What had happened to the fun and caring wife I called

Luce

? Now, I had an annoying bitch called Lucy in her place, who felt that her work was more important than our marriage. She never used to be like this, we both found the perfect work life balance when, and after, Covid came and changed the world. But this last year, it seemed to feel like a chasm was making its presence felt in our marriage. If I raised it, I was the jerk who wanted to hold her back. It was unbelievable, I had sacrificed

my

dream for her dream a year after we were married. The difference was, I did that willingly. Now, I wasn't going to keep sacrificing the time that should be ours, just because of her bloody job.

۞۞۞۞

We met at Greenwich Uni, not uncommon amongst those that went into higher education. I was studying graphic design; she was doing a degree in marketing and advertising. Because the courses were related, some of the work required support from the other group. That was how we met. I was, and still am, a bit of a wallflower, I know that. Being an only child, coupled to having elderly parents, I led a fairly sheltered life without the squabbles that you'll see in a larger family unit. And that's exactly what Lucy's family were. She had two brothers and two sisters, all spaced two years apart with her being the second youngest. Whenever we went to her parents, it felt like I'd stepped into a real-life Warhammer 40,000 game. It always seemed so chaotic, and yet none of them batted an eyelid, because it was just everyday life to them.

My parents had me when my dad was fifty, and my mum was forty-six. They had tried for years to have a child, it turned out my dad had a really low sperm count, and it was considered the chances of a child were so slim they stopped birth control. The gynaecologist said they'd have better odds doing the lottery. In the end, maybe they should have done the lottery. Out of the blue, my mum was pregnant and nine months later, out popped me. So growing up my, and Lucy's, childhoods, were chalk and cheese in comparison. As I was laying there looking at the ceiling, she came out of the bathroom wrapped in towels around her body and head.

"I'm sorry, Greg, but you've got to stop picking at me. Let's not fight today, you have your party tonight, the big four O."

At least she dropped the Gregory act. It was her first means of assault when we were having an argument, using my full name, and she knew it riled me up. It was now my turn, she was right, to a degree, her job was really important to her, to us. I made a statement hoping to make it clear we didn't need to be like this.

"I'm sorry too, babe, I can't wait to find some normality in life. This isn't healthy for our relationship, can't you feel it?"

Again, I looked into her puppy dog eyes waiting for a response. She walked over to me, and kissed me on the forehead. She now rarely kissed me on the lips. I suffered from Impetigo, a condition that causes sores on my lips. I suffered badly as a kid, and hadn't suffered since a teen until it flared up last Christmas. It's contagious, and since that outbreak, Lucy won't kiss me on the lips, despite me showing her it's quite safe unless I have symptoms. It was actually the start of this decline in our relationship, although she swears there's no decline. She pulled me from my thoughts.

"....Greg,

Gregory,

are you listening to me? I said our relationship is OK, it's exactly where we should expect it to be after fifteen years!"

I wasn't going to argue, not today. It was just going to be another day of filtering her whining out, I needed to make a conscious effort not to do this with her voice. I certainly didn't want any argument to spill over into tonight and tomorrow.

"Sure, Lucy, of course you're right."

Glancing at her, she was miffed. One thing she hated was for me to call her

Lucy.

It was the same as her calling me

Gregory.

Using our full names was usually saved for a spat. I normally called her

Luce

or

babe

.

Tomorrow, the first of January, I was going to hit my fortieth birthday. Lucy had tried to be secretive; the hushed phone calls, snippets of a few words here and there when we were out with friends and a steady increase in messages going back and forth, made it clear she'd arranged a not-so-secret surprise party for me. I had few relatives still alive, a couple of cousins and some uncles and aunts well into their late seventies or older dotted around the country. In our twenties we went through the rites of passage of the family wedding merry-go-round, including my own wedding. After that it drifted, until the surety of death heralded the funerals as the generations above us left one by one to head off for those pearly gates.

My dad died when I was nineteen. A short illness, then he was gone. My mum had arthritis in her knees and needed to be cared for. I promised to remain home and care for her, all the time she needed me in her life. With a graphic design course at Greenwich Uni, it worked well. When Lucy came into my life, and it seemed she would be there for life, I suddenly found I needed to make a tough decision. I wanted to make a life with Lucy, but I couldn't leave my mum on her own. Little by little, it gnawed away at my conscience. In the end the solution was gifted to me over a Sunday dinner when mum opened up a conversation.

"Gregory, there is something behind your eyes that's troubling you. It's like everyday, someone is placing another brick on your shoulders for you to carry. What's wrong, son?"

I remembered that conversation as if it was last week, not nearly twenty years ago.

At the time, the two most important people in my life were sitting with me at that dining table. I looked at Lucy as I answered her question.

"I feel torn, mum. I've made a commitment to look after you, I also want to live with Lucy, I feel it's now the right thing to do in my...sorry,

our

lives."

Both women looked at me. Lucy seemed a little shocked, we had spoken about making a future together, but weren't sure when that would happen. I wasn't sure when it would happen either, and it was starting to weigh heavily on my mind. Then there was a laugh, it was low, the sort of laugh a parent would do when a young child would do something silly, or clumsily for the first time. It wasn't malicious, it was a loving laugh.

"Oh, Gregory, my poor boy, the answer is right in front of you. This is

your

home and it will become

your

house in the future, a future that isn't far from becoming reality."

Lucy looked at me as the implication as to what we'd been told started to sink in. Her face became a beam, as all three of us reached out to hold hands at the table. Just like that, we were going to be a couple in our own home. And what a home it was. After the end of the second world war, it had been sold off by the Navy, my grandfather purchased it.

Originally built as a home for high-ranking naval officers back in 1680, it was almost palatial, a splendid detached home, standing on the edge of the Greenwich Park with substantial grounds behind high walls. My dad had grown up here, and it passed to him. Now, it was almost time to pass to me. With six large bedrooms, and all the rooms to support those that lived there, it was a level of grandeur that most people were shocked by when they discovered it was my home. There were eight houses in the row, all the others had been sold numerous times since the war, and each one that sold went for a dizzier sum than the one that had sold before. Even back then, when one sold, it fetched a crazy three quarters of a million pounds.

Three months later, we were living in pure bliss. Lucy loved the house, the history and architecture from a time when Britain was top of the pile, and the opulence of that time period clearly imbued into the house when it was constructed. My mum's bedroom had long been moved downstairs, and she seldom used the stairlift. She insisted we took the master bedroom as our own.

The first night we slept there, as a couple, was etched deeply into my memories. The original four poster bed frame was intact, although the fabrics and mattress were replaced countless times during its time in the house.

I can still see it, like a high-definition movie that I can replay in my mind. A memory of a time when everything was happy and the future looked good. In the candlelight, I watched as the woman I loved stood before me, her eyes fiery with passion and love as her equally fiery hair cascaded down over her shoulders as the light from the fireplace danced across her body. With her back towards me, I slowly slid the zip down of her dress, kissing parts of her body as they came into my view. When the zip could go no further, she stepped away from me then turned to face me. Seductively wiggling her body, the dress pooled around her feet as she stepped from it. I drank in the vision before me, a vision I wanted to replicate day after day for the rest of my life. A black basque, silk stockings and high heels encased the woman I swore, as a personal oath to myself, I was going to worship for the remainder of my life. She walked towards me, pushing me back onto the bed before climbing atop me in the flickering romantic light to bind us together, forever.

۞۞۞۞

Suddenly, Lucy snapped at me from my fond memories.

"I have some really important errands to run, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

With that she was gone, and I retreated to my hallowed space, my studio which is effectively part of the large loft space. Fitted with a large dormer type window on each side of the room that let plenty of light in, the side facing the park gave me a view of the Royal Observatory. I sat, once again drifting off into the distant past.

۞۞۞۞

Six months after Lucy moved in, my world took a hit that I struggled to deal with. My mum had cancer, and it was months, and not years left to share together. It hurt, and she told me this was the one thing in life after birth, that we had no control over, and never to fear it. I struggled with her pending death, and soldiered on with Lucy's help although she had seemed to pull away a little, focusing on her work more. As my mum's health started to decline quickly, I was shocked one day to come home to find a woman I didn't recognise sitting at her bedside.

"Ah, there you are. See, Audrey, I told you, he's the spitting image of his father, and we are proud parents with the man he has become. Gregory, Audrey is an old family friend, as her father was your grandfather's friend. Her family have been our legal representatives for many years now, and now I have called on her to help the family again. You may remember her brother, Thomas. He dealt with your father's will. Now come sit, listen, and then make an old lady happy."

Audrey shook my hand before I sat in a chair next to her. There were various papers placed on her leather case that was sitting on her knees.

"Hello, Gregory, it's nice to meet you. Your mother has made some very minor changes to her will, and has requested we prepare some paperwork that relates to you...and your fiancée. In this amended will, this property and all of the assets you inherit will go into a trust that you will be able to access at the age of fifty years of age."

I remember looking at her as if she'd just arrived from Mars with this preposterous suggestion. Before I opened my mouth to challenge her, she continued.

"It's worth noting this trust will become null and void when you marry your fiancée, Lucy. It will, however, only be nullified if you both sign and agree to this prenuptial agreement before you are married. I can leave it with you if you want to study it. In everyday English, both documents state Lucy will have no rights to this house unless you pass away, with no claim of foul play leading to your demise. For it to pass to her, you must still be married with no evidence to support infidelity or a pending divorce. All the other assets will be yours to do as you wish once married, and the prenuptial agreement is in place."

Even today, I can see them now, my mum's eyes focusing on me. There was defiance, she would not yield, despite the protest I made at the time. In the end, I asked her why.

"Gregory, dear Gregory. I'm so glad you both chose to live here with me, it has fulfilled two purposes. One, to care for me, that was obvious. The second? That wasn't so obvious. It gave me a chance to get to know, understand what seemed to make Lucy tick...and I do not necessarily like all that I see. Yes, she is caring, she has done me no harm, and hasn't put you down but...there is something behind those eyes when I look into them...something that says that she will tire of her life with you at some point in the future. I hope I'm wrong, I really do, but I won't take that chance.

Because of that, I want to protect you, and protect our family home. If she really loves you, she will sign the document when the time comes, and I truly hope she does. If she doesn't? My dying brain has enough left in it to overrule the young love you have in your heart by using the content of the will.

I hope I'm wrong, I really do. You will receive a copy of the trust documentation I've just signed, and Audrey will retain the original prenuptial document until you and Lucy are ready to tie the knot. Again, there is a copy if you wish to discuss it with her or another legal source of your own choice."

And that was that. Lucy wasn't happy when presented with the prenuptial but did sign it. The wedding ceremony took place in the garden, my mum was too ill to leave the property and died four weeks after. She had her dying wish; the prenuptial was in place protecting the family home.