It must be said that I have had better times than the last twelve months have been. The trend started when the firm I worked for collapsed just before Christmas, and it got worse shortly afterwards when my wife ran away with her lover. It seems that my unexpectedly being at home so much got in the way of her sex life. Strange that, because it didn't make any difference to mine at all. There were other minor setbacks too, like when my car decided to take early retirement and when I twisted my ankle badly on my doorstep, but the two major ones were my job and my marriage.
I suppose to be fair I should qualify things a bit. I can't say I liked my job very much because I had a dickhead for a boss, so that had its bright side. As for my marriage, well it hadn't always been that bad. In fact we'd been married for nearly ten years and the first few years were magical. We couldn't have kids, and that was my fault rather than hers, but we shagged like rabbits anyway. Perhaps knowing we were doing it for pure pleasure allowed us to be more experimental and adventurous, and we did pretty much everything a couple can do both to and with each other, so long as it didn't involve either other people or anything illegal. But our adventures slowly got less and less common and less and less adventurous, until finally a token fuck on alternate Saturday nights was about it. Neither of us was happy with that, but by then our relationship had deteriorated to the point where neither of us could be bothered to do anything about it.
I suppose things stopped altogether when Jake came on the scene, but I didn't know anything about him at the time. Strange, isn't it? You live with someone for the best part of a decade, but still don't see the signs. Her departure for mattresses new caught me completely by surprise, I really didn't see it coming and I never even suspected her of playing around, so when it happened I was devastated.
After that and after my ankle had healed I stayed at home most of the time, both because I was broke and because I was sure the neighbours were laughing at my misfortunes, although living on the edge of town I didn't have many neighbours anyway. Apart from the older couple living in the up-market bungalow opposite, the few I had were out at work all day in any case - lucky sods. I was reduced to gazing out of my window and feeling sorry for myself. What I didn't know was that my fortunes were about to change, and not in a way I could ever have expected.
I was at my usual post staring out of the window one morning when a strange car pulled up outside. I was instantly alert, wondering if it was someone chasing me for some unpaid bill or other, and so perhaps I paid more attention than I usually might. I couldn't see who was in it, so I'd no idea if they looked official or not, and therefore I just kept an eye on it. But the driver didn't get out and fifteen minutes later still nothing had happened. Now I began to wonder if it was someone casing the area for a later burglary, not that I'd notice too much if he turned my place over because my ex had already turned me over pretty well. In any case a more obvious target would be the place over the road. But nonetheless I was getting a bit jumpy. Then Mrs Shaw, the lady who lived there, came home from wherever she'd been, hastily parked her car and stared rather furtively at the other car before hurrying down her path. My curiosity antennae instantly went on full alert.
The Shaws are a retired couple, though she is quite a bit younger than her husband. Mr Shaw is well into his seventies, I think, and suffering from the after effects of a severe stroke. He's wheelchair bound and needs constant attention, and so every Tuesday and Thursday, and this particular day was a Tuesday, he goes to a day centre to give his wife a rest and some time to herself. I'd put her probably somewhere around the second half of her fifties, maybe just about into her sixties, although to look at her you would doubt even that. For all her years and the pressure she must live under she is still quite a good-looking woman. Grey haired and maybe a bit on the thin side, but nevertheless still attractive enough to warrant a second glance.
Anyway, after seeing that anxious look on her face I paid even more attention to the stranger parked outside my window, wondering if he had been waiting for her to get home. Sure enough, a few minutes after she had gone in a rather scruffy young man got out of the car and followed her down the path. I could see at once that he was nothing official, he had more the look of a down at heel salesman, the sort you might expect to be selling vacuum cleaners from door to door, especially when he headed straight for the back door. Now I was both curious and very concerned.
When he hadn't reappeared after a while I began to wrestle with my conscience, wondering if I should go and make sure she was all right. For all I knew this man had realised she would be alone and was busy burgling the house and murdering her. But then, it might just be someone she knew who had waited for her to return and they were now sitting chatting and drinking tea together. But somehow I doubted that, given that she hadn't acknowledged him directly when she got home, and so I gave it another few minutes and when the man had still not reappeared I plucked up the little courage I possessed and set out to check.
I didn't have the nerve to simply walk in through the front door in case he turned out to be her washing machine engineer or something and I looked a complete fool, and so I figured the best thing to do was to work my way around outside and take a cautious look through each window as I came to it. Easier said than done. Why do people, especially older people, always plant rosebushes, big thorny rosebushes, right in front of each window? But I'd made up my mind and now I was determined, and apart from that I was born nosy.
The large kitchen was empty, and so was the dining room, so that was fine. Then the lounge was also empty, and that wasn't so fine. That was where I'd expected to find them. I worked my way to the next window. A bedroom, also empty. Then another. The next window was the main bathroom and that was frosted, but I couldn't see any sign of figures through the glass. The dining room was also unoccupied, and so was the study. There was really only the main bedroom left and now I was getting really worried. Had he tied her up and slung her on the bed while he ransacked the house or did unspeakable things to her? I had to find out.
I crept up to that window and very carefully peered around the edge of it. And stopped dead. They were both there on the bed, completely naked and going at it like a pair of rabbits. That was something I hadn't been prepared for, not with a woman her age and a so much younger man. There was no way she wasn't willing either, because she was on her back with her legs wide and her arms wrapped around his back holding him tight on top of her. She was looking directly at me with one of those shocked 'oh no, how embarrassing' looks on her face. I ducked back out of sight, which was a little bit pointless as she'd obviously already seen me, and wondered what the hell to make of it all, and then I very carefully risked another peek through the window. I wasn't dreaming, Mrs Shaw was on the bed, legs apart, being energetically fucked by the young stranger, her bright blue eyes fixed on me as I peered in at them, and making no attempt to push him away. For his part, he wasn't even aware of his spectator and was enthusiastically banging away at his older lover. I ducked back and leaned against the wall, trying to take in what I had seen. It would never have occurred to me that a woman of her age should want a young stud in bed, but she obviously did. Eventually I came to the conclusion that it was none of my business and I quietly made my way back home. At least I could rest happy that she wasn't being raped.
For the next couple of hours or so I couldn't get the sight out of my mind. Never ever did I expect the aging and well-bred Mrs Shaw to have a lover of any sort, and especially not one so much younger and so obviously unsuitable. It wasn't as if she was ugly, I mean, yes she was getting on a bit, but from what bits I could see she hadn't gone completely to seed. I was sure she could have done better than him, probably with someone nearer her own age and standing. But then I supposed there was no accounting for taste. I still couldn't get it out of my mind though, and there was also the thought that I ought to apologise to her the next time I saw her for creeping around like some disreputable voyeur. And then my doorbell rang.
'Can I come in?'
Mrs Shaw did not look as angry as I expected her to be, nor did she look as terribly discomfited as I would have been. In fact I probably looked more shamefaced and embarrassed than she did. We sat opposite each other in the lounge and after a couple of minute's awkward silence she looked across at me.
'I can count on you not to speak to anyone about what you saw earlier, can't I?'
'Of course, I shan't say anything.' I told her, feeling guilty for spying on them.
'Good, because your discretion is important. I didn't expect anyone to see us and I certainly don't want Jonathan to find out.'
'I ought to explain.' I began. 'I saw your friend waiting outside for ages before you came home and when he followed you in I thought he might be up to no good. I didn't mean to spy on you, honestly.'
She didn't comment on my excuses. Instead she said 'I think I need to clarify things a little.'
'You don't need to. I mean it's none of my business who calls on you and what for.'
'Even so...' She seemed to run out of steam a bit. 'Maybe you could make us each a coffee while I work out how to explain?'
I did as I was asked and placed a cup of coffee, in one of my best cups, in front of her before sitting back down and waiting for her to begin again.
'You won't see that man again.' She began. 'He wasn't at all what I wanted.'
Seemed a strange thing to say, but then it was a strange situation.
She sat back, fidgeted, sighed and then launched into a fuller explanation. 'You realise, I am sure, that Jonathan is a good bit older than me, and he's not very well either.' I nodded that I did. 'So although nature has put his fire out, mine is still burning.' She paused again to see if I understood, then went on when I nodded again. 'Now I could easily find someone within our social circle to satisfy my needs, and God knows I've had enough offers, but there's not many of them that I would want to take to bed even if I was prepared to risk them letting it slip to Jonathan.' She broke off again to look me in the eye. 'The point is that the man you saw this morning was someone recommended to me by a friend. He is not my lover in the romantic sense, nor ever could be. He was there for one reason and one reason only, to scratch my itch. He charges for his services and so he guarantees discretion. I hope you will be just as discreet about seeing us together?'
So the man was some sort of gigolo, who'd have thought it? Never mind, not my business. 'I'm not the sort of person to go around spreading gossip, Mrs Shaw. I was concerned for your welfare, that's all.'
She smiled. 'And I believe you, and I thank you for it. However, I just wanted to make you aware of the situation and why I need it keeping private.' She suddenly giggled girlishly. 'Mind you, I don't suppose many people would believe that a sixty-six year old woman still needed sex anyway.'
