Punch And Judy 1

Howard knew he would need coins for the parking meter at lunchtime and tried his wife's oddment draw in the bedroom. Beneath the clutter was an unfamiliar black-covered notebook. Knowing he shouldn't, he opened the book and read from the first page. It was written in Judy's familiar round hand in red ballpoint and he thought it was a diary or journal. He skipped a few pages and read more. Then he realised it must be a story.

But if so, why would she write such a bizarre tale? He put away the notebook, ashamed at intruding on his wife's private fantasies. A little later, making coffee, he was still amazed by what he'd read and thought: "She's bored. That's why she wrote it."

His curiosity overcame shame and once more he took out the notebook, sat down and read it through. The scene was unmistakably the local station café. Howard knew it from the occasional trip to town, but it was familiar to his wife from her daily commute. But in contrast to the café, which was real, the rest had to come from her imagination.

***

Notebook entry:

I don't usually sit in the café, but today I was perched on one of the stools at the counter because there was a hold-up on the line and my train was late.

"Are you left waiting too, just because a train company can't run trains on time?" said the man standing beside me. He was tall and slim and wore a dark blue suit, better cut and made of a finer woollen weave than most. I liked the slight ironic twist to his lips and the gleam in his eye which carried a challenge.

An unexpected impulse made me shake my head. I wanted to shock this nice but conventional man. "My husband sent me here to wait for the man who could stir me out of my boredom. It would have to be a very special man because my life is tedious. I have high standards and most men don't interest me at all."

The man considered his reply and the way he hid his surprise showed class. "How interesting. And does your husband mind who this man is?"

I shrugged. "He loves me. He wants it to be whoever makes me happy. But he knows how demanding I can be and thinks that only the cleverest, strongest, most confident male could deal with me. He says he doesn't have to worry about being superseded because I shan't find anyone."

"And how long have you been waiting?"

"So far? Only ten minutes."

"More impatient than bored, I'd say." I was being inspected by the suave commuter. "Here, I've bought you another coffee. I have ages to wait so let's sit down properly. And you might as well know that my name is Marcus. I'm the man you're waiting for."

I wanted to say that I didn't like arrogant men and that I limited myself to one coffee in the morning. I followed him instead to a table on the platform and we sat opposite one another. For the first time I had a chance to study his face. He had dark curls at his temple and amusement animated his features. He was used to telling other people what to do, that was evident, but I thought he was kind even though I was sure he was demanding and selfish. And I was curious to see what he hoped to get out of the conversation. Just a matter of passing the time until his train came - unless I made an impression.

"Tell me why you think you're the man I'm waiting for?"

"Why a man? Can't a woman amuse you? You're not telling me you're looking for a lover?"

"You've not answered my question."

"It doesn't deserve an answer. You decide whether I'm the man. I don't know you. I have no opinion, except that you look sexy and I don't mind having fun with you."

"If you're going to be rude I shall leave."

"Fine."

We sipped our coffees in silence for a minute during which I was aware of a very close inspection. Then the man, Marcus, said, "Tell me more about being bored. What's the matter with you? Depressed?"

"Nothing like that." I thought quickly. What did I mean when I told Howard I was bored to the point of despair? Was it my work, my marriage? Not precisely, but they contributed. It was more than that, more that my life was failing to meet my expectations. I'd had so many plans, so many objectives - things I had to do. And I'd done many of them without gaining the satisfaction I'd expected. It was my fault no doubt. I didn't understand myself as well as I'd thought.

"I deserve more from life. There's no excitement. I do the same things every day, have the same thoughts, know what Howard's going to say before he opens his mouth. It's not his fault, it's mine."

"You poor thing." My companion was laughing at me. "Life's full of adventures waiting to happen. You have to find them."

"But I don't know where."

"Isn't this one of them? Your husband must be a more sensible man than you give him credit for. If he really sent you here."

I looked down at my cup. Howard knew nothing about the station bar: he rarely travelled by train. This was entirely my doing. But having started the game on a whim, I couldn't deny that it was fun.

"Actually my husband told me I needed a man who tells me what to do."

"I can make you do what I want. Easy," said Marcus. He reached out and put his hand over mine. I snatched my hand away. He caught it again and forced it back to the table top. "See what I mean. My will is stronger than yours and if I want to hold your hand I shall. It's cold and I'll warm it for you."

"I can scream. It would serve you right for taking liberties."

"Stop protesting. I'll hold your hand if I want. It does no harm and you led me on. In fact I'm going to kiss you. Clearly you want me to, but scream if you must. Everyone here knows you led me on."

He followed up immediately, kissing my cheek without resistance, followed by a kiss on the lips. I felt the warmth of his breath, compelled to respond by the force of his presence.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I'm enjoying myself and it gave you a thrill. A sexy thrill. Don't deny it. My train will be here in a minute and you're going to do one more thing for me."

"I shan't. You're not trustworthy."

"Absolutely, but you'll do it anyway. Give me your mobile number." Marcus still gripped my hand and squeezed it tight. With his other hand he took out his own phone so he could key in the number.

"Shan't."

"I don't know when I'll be free, but if I want to see you I'll send a text and you must come. You know you will."

"Never. I've told you I'm married."

"Tell your husband you're coming to see me. He'll approve. Now stop wasting time."

"If you insist, but I shan't answer any text."

He looked over her shoulder at her phone.

"You'll come when I want you. Here, I'll give you my business card. You're surname's Puncheon? Punch and Judy - I like it! Someone here's a joker. You can tell Howard Puncheon we're meeting for work if that makes you happier."

I held his card and he had my number, I wasn't sure how. And then he was gone and my tedious day was still full of promise. I knew I was sorry to be left alone.

That evening I told Howard I'd met a handsome stranger at the station café and he'd propositioned me. Howard looked at me as if he'd never seen me before, trying to work out whether I was teasing him or telling the truth. He laughed.

"You should be so lucky. Someone tripped over your bag and mouthed an obscenity at you and you mistook it for a compliment. Or something like that."

"Have it your way. But he was muscular and very good looking. I'm seeing him again and I'll let him buy me a drink."

"You do that. I shan't be jealous."

***

Howard was confident he knew Judy. She'd not spoken to him about meeting a stranger. He reasoned therefore that what she'd written was untrue - a work of fiction. It was common sense that she couldn't have remembered a conversation verbatim, so she must have made up the dialogue. It was fiction and read like a story. And she knew that he occasionally looked for coins in her drawer, so she could have left the book there knowing he would find it.

It was a game and he smiled at her ingenuity. She'd always liked pastimes which involved play acting, like charades or fancy dress. But what was the point of the game and how did you win? He decided he was meant to read the notebook and be jealous. When he confronted her she would announce that it was creative writing and that he was a gullible fool for imagining she had a lover. And that he was wrong to read her private notebook. She would tease him no end.

Almost immediately, he had second thoughts. Could it be a confession? She'd had an affair and lacked the nerve to tell him to his face. Instead she'd written it down knowing he'd read it. Howard thought carefully and decided it was impossible. Judy was shy about meeting strangers. She'd never have an affair. And it read like a made-up story. He did his best to forget the notebook.

Except that each night he checked the drawer to see whether the story had been continued. On Monday morning after she left for work, he read the following short entry written the night before.

***

Notebook entry:

Exciting news. I've had a text from Marcus. "Bar in station concourse on my way home. Seven p.m. tomorrow night. Don't be late because I shan't wait around." Thinking about this makes me breathless, but of course I'll ignore his insulting proposition.

***

Howard read disbelievingly. If this was a wind-up it was painfully effective. He reassured himself that it was a story, yet he caught himself wondering if Judy would go to the meeting. After a bit he didn't know what to think. Leaving for work, she'd told him that she had a late meeting. Of course it was a tease. He decided to forget the diary.

But it preyed on his mind and he delayed leaving work so he'd not be at home thinking about Judy. If her objective was to make herself the centre of attention, he had to admire her success. It was nine and he was exhausted when he finally put his key in the door.

Judy was home. She came out of the sitting room and greeted him with a taut smile. Suddenly he was inspired to give back some of her teasing. He looked hard into her eyes, sniffed her hair ostentatiously and checked that she was dressed as she'd been when she left for work. He wanted to show that he'd read the diary and wasn't put out by the game. Also that he understood exactly what she was up to.

"Good meeting?" he asked.

"Went on too long. Had difficulty getting away," she said. "But let's eat. I brought some food in."

They cooked dinner companionably but said little as they ate. Howard was waiting for his moment.

"What are you going to do this evening?" she asked eventually.

"I'll load the dishwasher and get a bath. Then I'll watch the football and it'll be time for bed. It's been a hard day."

"What you always do."

"Why not?" Slowly he relaxed, searching for the question that would end the game at least with a draw. "Anything exciting happen in your day?"

She shrugged in a familiar way. "You mean apart from attending the one hundred and eighty-sixth meeting of the soft furnishings and seasonal decorations customer relations group? Or did you mean being propositioned by a dark, handsome stranger?" She laughed easily. "Well one of those happened."

He'd not expected her to be so direct. She's still playing to win, Howard thought. "And did he kiss you?"

"Oh, kissing's all the rage at work now. I can't get away without air kissing every dead-beat manager in the division."

Howard lost his nerve and gave up. What would he do if she told him that she'd met someone? He realised she'd had time to practise her sport with him. It was her script. Challenging her directly would play to her strengths. In this game he was the novice.

The next morning curiosity overwhelmed him as usual and he discovered a long entry in the diary, the words scored into the paper with heavy pressure and extravagant loops and curls.

***

Notebook entry:

Of course my handsome lothario was waiting for me. By way of greeting he grabbed my waist and kissed me passionately. I expected nothing less but I did my best to show that I wasn't anybody's. As soon as I had a chance to breathe, I said, "Sorry pretty boy. I'm a married woman and you're not as irresistible as you imagine."

"You can walk away immediately if that's what you want," he replied cool as anything. "But we both know you won't because you can't resist me."

He was right. We went onto the platform where there was a little more privacy and did things I've never done in public, never dreamed I'd want to. He put his hand on my breast and for protection I pressed tightly to him and fingered his chest between his shirt buttons. Indescribable.

"Of course, I'll have to tell my husband."

Thus spoke my conscience. There was no good reason to turn Marcus down. Howard need never know and this was fun. I was in control and could stop this man in his tracks with a word. Until, that is, he slid his hand round my waist, the fingers under the belt of my trousers. A moment of fumbling and I was shocked as his fingers snagged my underwear and stretched lower to cup my buttock beneath my clothes. I tried to pull away.

"You like that. Don't deny it." I was held firmly, his hand caressing my flesh. "And you'll like this." Gripping me firmly, he pressed me against his groin. I could feel him against my belly hard like an iron rod reaching up to his belt. In that moment the world split apart and I couldn't break away, even when he pushed crudely against me. The sensation was unwritable, unlike anything I've experienced before. We staggered as we clutched one another. I reached between us and felt him stir as my hand slid along his length. He pressed harder against my buttock, lifting me onto my toes as he pushed his hand lower, trying to reach my sex from the rear. I pressed my legs together and felt strangely relaxed and careless. So what if the people around saw what we were doing? They'd feel the passion and be happy.

"Of course you must tell Punch what you've done," said Marcus when finally I prised his hand from its grip. "I insist you get his permission to do this again. In fact he must agree to you to coming to dinner and spending the evening with me. No lies or subterfuges. He must understand you're mine until midnight."

"But I haven't said I want to go out with you."

"Don't waste time denying it. You feel good and you want more. And I want more of you. But Punch must agree."

"He's a jealous man. How do I get him to agree?"

"Tell him I make you feel like a whore and that you can't resist giving into pleasure. You want to be naked in front of me and have me enjoy you. You want to lose control and have me inside you because you know the sex will be indescribable. Tell him he has to agree because you can't resist me."

"He'll think I've gone mad. He'll hate me."

"You'll reveal yourself as a whore who can't resist a handsome stranger. It's the truth." He took hold of me and kissed me. "See. I can do just as I please because you like it."

He was right because I loved to feel him pressed against me once more.

"I'll book a restaurant and call you when I want you to bring the note. Punch must say that he's given you to me for the evening. Tell me you'll do it."

"I can't say no and you know I can't do it," I replied, gasping for breath. "Marcus, you're a bastard."

"I am," he said. "And I want you to masturbate one night when you're in bed with Punch. Let him know it's because feeling my erection has driven you mad with excitement. And if you keep making difficulties I'll add more demands."

One final squeeze of his hand, a caress to make me tremble and he was gone. I was breathing hard and perspiring with fear and excitement. Of course I want to go out with Marcus but do I dare put this amazing proposition to Howard? I really don't know how I can. But I think I have to. No way will he sign.

***

As he read Howard grew cold with fear. No way, no way. He was sure there was no way Judy would do it. Then he remembered it was a story. Fearful and excited, he re-read the diary entry over and over again. Each time the words caused the same feverish shock and disbelief. This wasn't Judy.

All the same he was unnerved when he caught Judy masturbating. It was a hot night and there was a sheet over them. He was drifting into sleep when a slight movement of the bed disturbed him. He lay still and watched in the dull light from a charging phone. Judy lay on her back, legs spread, and he could make out the movement of her hand beneath the sheet. He pretended to sleep as she became agitated, knees tensing and hand moving fast. He listened to her breathing and when he was sure she'd come, he said quietly, "What's the matter? Don't we do it enough? You should have cuddled up to me and I'd have made you feel good."

The dark hid her blushes, but after a moment she took hold of him. "Howard, you've embarrassed me. I thought you were asleep. I don't know what came over me."

"What got you excited?"

She was caressing him, her usual overture to making love. He was instantly erect.

"You won't be cross if I tell you?" Her head was under the sheet and she was hard to hear. Her mouth grasped his penis and slowly began its work so that he stiffened and expanded further. Gripped by pleasure, he pressed against her face.

There was silence until she lifted her head. "It's just a silly thing that happened on the way to work. You won't be cross?"

He said nothing and did his best to relax as her mouth grasped him again.

"There was this stunning man on the station platform waiting for the train and I couldn't help admiring his looks. I mentioned him before." More caresses. "He was beautiful and, you know, his penis was erect. I could see the outline in his trousers as clear as I can see yours."

"So you fantasised about making love to him just now?"

"I did. Don't be jealous."

"And now, when you have me in your mouth?"

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top, straddling his hips and stroking his penis as she pulled him into positon and slid onto him.

"Can you feel how excited I am?" She pressed down hard so that he thought he might come at once.

"And this stranger excites you. Nothing else happened?"

She leaned forward so that her breasts brushed his face, something she knew he liked. Then she worked back and forth in silence before replying. "Don't come yet. I want this to be good. The thing is, the train was delayed and we got chatting."

"Don't tell me, he's a really nice man."

"He is. But I don't want you to be jealous. Marcus is not at all like you. He says what he thinks and takes it for granted that I like him. He wants a chance to get to know me and asked me out to dinner. Can you believe it?"

"That's direct. What did you say?"

"You like that?" She was working energetically, moving faster and pressing harder than usual. "I must be a whore at heart because I wanted to say yes. I so much wanted to be able to say yes. But I told him I was married."

"You didn't say no."

"No. I thought he'd leave me alone after that, but he's so confident he knew what to say. He told me he wouldn't cause trouble and he'd only take me out if you wrote to say it was okay."

By now the sweat was running down her back and she was bouncing on him and panting from the effort or the excitement.

"You want to do it. You really want to go out with some creepy stranger who picks up women on station platforms?"

"You've not met him. He's gorgeous and not creepy at all. And maybe I deserve some fun. So will you write the note and let me go?"

There was silence because Howard had no idea what to say. He felt his orgasm build and decided he had to know whether she was telling the truth. They were now both finding it hard to talk and breath.

"Did anything else happen? Did he kiss you?"

"You guessed." This was a gasp. "I wanted him to. We kissed and he held me tightly and...you know...I could feel him pressed against me. That's what made me so excited."