I had not originally intended a second chapter to this story, but a number of readers suggested that many of the details omitted from the first part should be explained. So, here it is. It can be read in isolation from Chapter 1, or as an extension to it. There will not be a third chapter - I have other stories in mind.
Please note that this work contains descriptions of explicit oral and vaginal sex between consulting adults. If any of that offends you, please don't bother to read it.
Everyone in this story who is engaged in any sort of sexual conduct is over the age of 18.
Falling For Jennifer. Ch 02
Prologue. August 2011
Jennifer Elizabeth Robertson stared out of the window, her grey eyes seemingly fixed on the far end of the garden where the tumbledown shed sagged against the fence, partially obscured by the tangle of brambles and hawthorn. Aside from herself the house had been empty for a year or so and it was quiet in the sunlit kitchen in which she stood, apart from the thin cries of children playing at the local school and the low grumble of earth moving equipment two streets down.
Her mind was on the envelope lying on the kitchen table behind her. She recalled the many addresses scribbled on its face as people redirected it, and wondered how it had ever reached her. She remembered the body blow in her chest when she recognized who it was from, and how she had carefully propped it up against the sugar bowl whilst she went about her chores, delaying the moment when she would open it because she wasn't sure if the growl of excitement in her belly was greater or less than the sense of dread of what it might say. Twice she had gone to fling it in the bin but on each occasion she had stopped, aware that not knowing what was inside would be infinitely worse than knowing.
She gave a little sigh and turned away from the window, her eyes scanning the little kitchen that seemed to be her world now. The morning dishes were already washed and put away and her laundry was out in the pale winter sunshine to dry. Her bed was made and the house dusted and there was really nothing to stop her from opening the letter and reading it, other than her own hesitation. She could hear the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking, ticking, reverberating though the old wooden floors and infiltrating her thoughts like a stentorian heartbeat pulsing in the silence of the house. With a sudden sense of dread she imagined it to be his heart and that each beat consumed a little of what was left, and if she waited too long it would wind down and stop - and she would never see him again.
It was the motivation Jen needed, and she sat down and picked up the envelope. It was thin and cheap and stained by the dust and dirt of its journey across the country, but the handwriting was clear and firm and confident. She turned it over in her hand and slipped a finger under the flap, tearing it open to retrieve the single sheet of paper, and she saw that it had only a few lines written upon it.
Hey Jen,
They say that blood is thicker than water, which may be why we battle our own with more energy and gusto than we would ever expend on strangers. Now time and distance have made me a stranger too, so perhaps the battle has moved on? I hope so.
Isn't it time now, my heart? Can't we at the very least be friends?
Call me.
David.
(dgriffiths9@hotmail.com)
Taped below the words was a scrap of material of faded blue. Jen touched the silken threads and the frayed lace edging with her fingertips and she remembered it even after all of these years, just as he had known she would.
In the little kitchen of her cramped and silent house she clasped the tattered fragment of her past and her mind whirled back to another time - of long sunny days of dreams and laughter when they were young and carefree, when they thought the good times would never end.
And she rested her head in her hands and she remembered.
November 2000
"I just don't know what's got into you two this morning!"
Jen could see that her mother was put out - not really angry, but clearly miffed by what she saw as odd behavior with no apparent reason. She liked her life to be ordered and when something happened without any explanation she was perplexed by it.
"I don't know what you mean, Mum." Jen tried hard not look at David, who was sitting opposite her at the little kitchen table. He was pulling a face that his mother couldn't see because she was behind him, and Jen was trying not to laugh but it didn't work. She felt her lips twitching and hurriedly turned the giggle into a cough.
"There you go again!" Katherine Griffith's eyes were icy blue. "You're possessed, the pair of you! If I didn't know better I'd say you were up to no good." She turned and stomped back to the sink before firing a final shot. "And when you and your brother have control of yourselves - if you ever do - then bring your dirty dishes and wash them up!"
Jen didn't care. It was as if she was on a high, soaring into the dizzy, rarefied air of elation where everything she perceived was crisp and clean and sharp. She could still taste David on her lips and under her dressing gown she could smell exactly what they had been up to - the musky odour of his semen blended with her own juices, drying on the satin skin of her thighs. She glanced at him. He had stopped clowning and was gazing at her, his blue eyes soft like a puppy's. She saw how his hair curled softly at the collar of his shirt and how the breadth of his chest filled it, and she remembered the rubbery feel of his muscles as she clasped him, crying out in the night at what he was doing to her. She felt her vulva open at the memory, releasing a little of what he had inserted there last night.
She shot him a warning glance as their mother turned again, her voice still shrill.
"And where were you this morning, David? Your work phoned at seven, looking for you to come in and when I knocked on your door you weren't there!"
"Er - it's Saturday. I went for a run this morning, Mum. Do you think they still want me?"
