Freshers' week fuck
Returning my son to university scores me more than a one-night stand
I was not looking forward to returning my son to Manchester for the last year of his course. His mother agreed after wasting the first two years drinking and partying, Jamie needed a kick up the arse if he was going to graduate from his computing degree. Since we divorced, he'd played me and Janice off against each other, but on this subject, we were united. He needed a shock, and I dropped the bombshell in the Services on the M6.
"Jamie, we could go on to Manchester, or I could go to the bank and get you five grand and you can fuck off and not bother me or your mum again. What do you say? You've got until I come back from taking a piss to decide your future."
His sullen teenager expression, which did not look good on a twenty-two-year-old, had disappeared by the time I returned.
"You wouldn't do that dad. Mum won't let you."
"Why do you think she made me take you back? Life moves on son. She's met someone she could get serious about and neither of us wants your sorry arse on our sofas all day as you sleep it off after night shifts in a delivery warehouse, because that's the only job you can get."
His face said he didn't like that version of the future. "We are going to Manchester, dad."
I broke the silence after twenty miles. "Sorry son, but you needed a shock. You are a lazy fucker like your dad. But I woke up at the start of the third year and ended up with a 2-1 by working smarter, not harder."
It was another ten miles before he broke and asked me how.
"I had lazy mates like me. But we divided the syllabus in four and made sure we were expert in our part. We taught each other the rest. Asked searching questions we would never have asked our lecturers, to prove we knew our stuff. We were in it together win or lose. You'd get a kicking if you didn't do your bit."
I could hear Jamie's mind working. "All my mates are lazy like me, but I don't trust them to pull their fingers out."
"Then you find new mates who you can study with. Don't you have any Chinese or Indians on your course?"
"Dad, that's a racist stereotype...even if it's true. But why should they help me?"
"Because you have skills they don't. Make them the offer. They teach you the course and you teach them how to pull girls and cheat at cards. Those strait-laced types are desperate to be party animals."
"Thanks for that assessment of my skills dad. Brutal, but honest." Jamie was quiet for the rest of the journey, working on how he was going to put his support team together. By the time we reached his hall of residence, he was smiling. "Did it really work for you, Dad?"
"I kid you not son. I'll send you a copy of my degree certificate and you can look forward to wiping your arse with it when you get a better result."
#
The hall of residence was a surprise. A new ten-storey building with a concierge and a foyer like a Premier Inn. Jamie was smiling. I was not.
"When I agreed with your mum, we needed to get you out of that shithole house and away from those piss heads you lived with, I didn't think she'd put you in the bloody Ritz."
The concierge explained the apartment complex was exclusively for final year students needing to focus. "Comfortable four-bedroom apartments with a communal kitchen/lounge. Our rules prohibit parties. We don't have a bar. We try to keep distractions to a minimum."
I could see my ex-wife's thinking. "So, the last chance hotel, doesn't have a last chance saloon?"
"Very good, sir. I'll suggest it as a slogan at our next marketing meeting. Here is your son's key. As he's the first to arrive, he has the choice of bedrooms."
We claimed squatter's rights to the quietest room in the modern tenth floor flat with a balcony overlooking the Manchester cityscape.
"You're living like a premier league footballer son. I can't afford a place this nice on what I've got left after your mother has rinsed me."
"It's a posh prison dad. I bet they come round and check lights out. No parties, no bar, it's like a prep school."
"No, it's not Jamie. No one is buggering you, unless you want them to." I laughed all the way back to the lift. Jamie didn't. By the time we'd unloaded his stuff onto the borrowed porter's trolley, Jamie's hard done by look was back on his coupon. We pushed it into the lift and I was searching for some motivational words as I pressed the button.
"Can you hold the lift for us, please?" The clack of high heels followed, and I defy any man not to be hypnotised by the pair of jiggling tits on the woman doing comedy running in stilettos. I looked at Jamie and we smiled. A father and son telepathy passed between us. Behind the attractive fifty something blonde in white jeans and a skinny black top was her stunning twenty something daughter in skin tight beige leggings and a crop top. We squeezed the pair of them and their cases into the already crowded lift. The mother wore expensive sunglasses on top of an expensive hair do. She was the sort of woman you'd see swanning around designer shops in Marbella, and from her tan it looked like she'd come directly from there to Manchester. The daughter was the natural shade of blond her mother had once been.
"This is cosy ladies." I smiled and pressed the button for the top floor. "We are going all the way."
The mother's cool blue eyes gave me a knowing look. "That's fortunate. So are we."
"Please mum, there are children in this lift."
Jamie laughed at the daughter's embarrassed comment and gave a `what can you do with them' shrug of sympathy.
By the time the door opened, we knew Amelia's daughter Chloe was in the flat two doors away.
"That's a relief Amelia. I've been lecturing Jamie that he needs to graft this year. He can't afford attractive distractions." Chloe blushed and an embarrassed Jamie said, "Dad you are supposed to be the responsible adult."
"I told her those leggings make her look naked. She should not be surprised if men look. Woman too, I suppose."
Chloe did not appreciate her mother's observation. "Eww, mum. Now I've got that thought to distress me as well at the thought of these two watching our bums as we walk away."
They wheeled their cases ahead of them. Amelia turned quickly and caught me and Jamie staring from the lift doors. She laughed. Chloe tutted.
After a final trip to the car, Jamie had all his stuff and was sorting out his room. Time was getting on and I needed to make a move because I was seeing a mate in Bristol for dinner. I was stuck for encouraging parting words. I ended up with a plea.
"Please give it your best efforts this year, son. Don't spunk all your time on drink and parties if you want to have a future." I gave him a genuine, fatherly hug.
"I'll try what you say dad. Find some study mates so we can help each other."
"Good. Once you've got Bruce Lee and Dev Patel tutoring you there might be time to have a crack at Chloe. She's gorgeous. I think you may be in there, son."
"Do you really think so dad?"
"Give it a go Jamie. Our surname is not Chalmers for nothing. I think she likes you as much as you like her. Just don't knock her up."
"Dad!"
We noticed a quiet tap on the front door. I opened it on an apologetic-looking Amelia.
"Could you help us set up Chloe's wi-fi? It doesn't want to connect, and she's too shy to ask."
"Off course, Amelia. I was just telling Jamie he needed to be a good neighbour."
Amelia and I left the kids to it while I showed her how to re-tune Chloe's TV. "I don't know why I brought it. Kids watch everything on their phones these days."
"You can throw a picture from your phone to the TV, like this. Better for watching Netflix."
"I didn't know that Bradley, you learn something new every day."
I knew there was a husband in the mix somewhere but, I couldn't resist taking the chance I'd urged on my son. "I need to push off soon to see a mate in Bristol, but I was wondering if you would like to grab a coffee, before I have to leave."
We stood at Chloe's door and looked at the two of them, too deep in conversation to notice us. Their shy smiles and surreptitious glances betrayed their unspoken attraction. We recognised the opening round of courtship. They broke away to give us both last hugs and renewed promises of hard work before mentally wishing we would just go, and leave them to it.
In the lift, Amelia looked worried. "Chloe needs to work this year if she wants to qualify as a physiotherapist."
