Sugar Daddy

Although our relationship seemed to improve from time to time, on the whole we started to develop our lives in different directions. I wasn't an ideal husband—most of the time I didn't know what Lisa was doing and, to make it worse, I didn't care. I felt that she'd already turned her back on me, and it was obvious that we both wanted different things. Maybe I should have done something about it then, but I had promised for better or worse and I always kept my promises. If Lisa wanted to call it a day, then it was up to her.

By the time Elliott went to university we were leading separate lives. We shared a bed but that was about all. Elliott was influenced more by his mother than me and decided to study business. I can't pretend I wasn't disappointed but, hell, the country needs businessmen. I tried to give him some holiday work at Danvers, but his mother said he should be enjoying himself and, of course, he didn't argue with her. He graduated with second class honours and joined a management consultancy in London. It was during these three years that I started to hear stories about Lisa's behaviour. Even Bob Danvers told me where he'd seen her and with whom. My secretary made faces at the telephone whenever it was Lisa on the line. I never knew whether or not she still had any love for me, but it was clear to me that she had no respect for me at all. When I came home that night to find her gone I was more relieved than anything else.

******

"I still don't understand how you wouldn't know we were looking for you, Mrs Bryant," Inspector Maynard said. "The search, and your husband's arrest, was in all the newspapers."

Lisa looked across at me. "They arrested you? Oh, Kevin, I'm so sorry. I didn't expect anything like that to happen. I left you a note."

"Yes, you did, computer printed and unsigned. No one believed it."

"Frankly, Mrs Byant, I'm having difficulty accepting that you didn't know about the search. It was in all the newspapers and your husband's arrest was carried by the foreign news media."

"Inspector, I was in a foreign country and couldn't speak the language. The only news I saw was on the television, and that was in French. I had no idea what was going on here."

"And you didn't much care," I added.

Lisa turned to me. "No, Kevin, to be completely honest, you're right. I didn't care what was happening here. We hadn't been on the same wave-length for years. You couldn't stand my friends, and I didn't have much interest in your life, but you have to believe me, I didn't want to cause you any trouble."

WPC Cavendish had left the room to use her radio. She came back and passed a paper to Inspector Maynard.

"Mrs Bryant."

"Will you stop calling her Mrs Bryant," I said "She's not Mrs Bryant—she's my ex-wife with the emphasis on the ex."

Lisa looked confused, and the inspector was stuck for words.

"Okay—Lisa, is that your Range Rover outside?"

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"Well, it seems the Spanish police have been looking for it and you, in connection with a death in a bordello in Malaga."

"He just died in the girl's room—it was nothing to do with me."

"So I believe. The case has been dropped. The post mortem said it was a heart attack. The Spanish police are a little annoyed with you for leaving the country while the case was still open."

"I just had to get away. Away from those horrible people. You were right about them, Kevin—they just use people to get what they want, then drop them."

"Okay, Mrs ... sorry, ... Lisa, I think we're done. We'd like you to come to the station sometime to provide a statement, but as far as I'm concerned it's case closed."

I walked inspector Maynard and the WPC to the door. As he left he turned and offered me his hand. "Thank you, Mr Bryant, and good luck for tomorrow."

"Thank you, Inspector. Goodbye."

I watched them go and heaved a sigh of relief. I closed the door and waited for the next visit.

*****

I can't say I didn't miss Lisa, because I did. The house was empty, and you even miss the arguments when they're not there. However, things could have been worse. She'd left her bank and credit cards, so at least I didn't have to worry about her taking all our money. She even left her brand new Mini, something that pleased me because I was paying for it. I took some time off the following day and went in to the bank, surrendered Lisa's cards and took her name off the accounts. I took Lisa at her word. She'd said don't try to find me, so I didn't—I didn't even report her missing.

It was ten days later when Elliott called that things took a turn for the worse. Elliott couldn't believe his mother would just leave like that. He insisted on involving the police and came home to file a missing person report. That was when I first met Inspector Maynard. He seemed to be most interested in the fact that I hadn't reported her missing. After a couple of weeks he returned to tell me they'd got nowhere trying to find Lisa. None of the local taxi drivers had picked her up and they didn't think she'd used the bus. I laughed at the last statement. Lisa hadn't used a bus since the day we got married.

"Mr Bryant, do you have any idea where your wife would have gone, or who she might have left with?" he'd asked me.

"I have no idea and I don't much care, Inspector," had been my reply.

Of course, after that he wanted to know about our relationship and I told him the truth. I had been brought up to do that: "Tell the truth and shame the devil," my mum had always said. She'd obviously never dealt with a policeman eager to make a name for himself. My admission that we were like two people who shared a house and sometimes had sex didn't do me any good. I knew something was afoot two days later when I left for work and found half the world's press camped on my front lawn. As I walked to the garage I could hear shouts from the reporters.

"Where is your wife, Mr Bryant?"

"Is she dead, Mr Bryant?"

"Are you a suspect, Mr Bryant?"

I backed my old Skoda out of the garage, and as I went back to close the door I got more of the same questions fired at me. As I got back in the car I simply said, "You people know as much, if not more, than I do."

I was in a meeting with Bob Danvers when Maynard turned up again.

"Mr Bryant, I have here a warrant to search your house and grounds, and another to impound and examine your car. I must ask you to accompany me back to your house in order to guarantee full access."

I looked at Bob and sighed, rolling my eyes. "Look, Inspector, if you want to search my house that's fine. Here are my keys and these are the keys for the car. You'll find it in the car park. I really don't think you need me." I handed over both sets of keys. "Now, Inspector, Mr Danvers and I have important business to discuss."

What followed took me completely by surprise. Inspector Maynard took hold of my left hand and clamped one side of a pair of handcuffs on my wrist.

"Kevin Bryant, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Mrs Lisa Bryant. You're not obliged to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Now please stand, sir, and put your hands behind you."

I did as instructed, the other cuff was locked on my right wrist and I was led from the room. As I went out of the door Bob called out to me. "I'll call the company lawyer. Don't say anything until he gets there."

For two days they kept me in the cells at the police station with several interviews each day. I followed Bob Danvers instructions and refused to say anything without my solicitor present. At the end of two days Maynard applied to the court for more time to question me, but my solicitor challenged him to produce any evidence that a crime had actually been committed. Maynard had to accept that there was no evidence and I was released. Someone had tipped off the press and there was a gang of photographers waiting as I walked out to the waiting cab.

When the taxi pulled up outside my house I could hardly believe my eyes. The garden and the house were cordoned off with tape bearing the legend 'Crime Scene—Do Not Cross'. The gate to the back garden was off its hinges and the front door was open. I used my phone to take photos. I asked the taxi driver to wait while I packed a case. Walking straight through the tape, I entered my house. The sight was unbelievable. Downstairs the carpets had been ripped up and I could see two mechanical diggers and a number of policemen digging large holes in my garden. The patio had already been ripped up. I was about to go up to my bedroom when a policeman came down the stairs.

"What are you doing here? Can't you fucking read? It says, 'Crime Scene—DO NOT CROSS'."

"First, there has been no crime, and second, this is my house. I LIVE HERE."

The policeman used his radio to ask permission to let me in, then looked back at me. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I certainly can't live here, so I need to pack a case to move out."

"He says he needs to pack a case, sir," he said into the radio.

"Okay. Sir, you can do that, but I have to supervise you so I can check what you take."

Upstairs, all the carpets had been ripped up, there were floorboards up in every room and a ladder up to the loft hatch. I took photos as I went. In the bedroom I found the contents of my wardrobe draped over the bed and the contents of the drawers spread about the room. As best I could, I collected up what clothes I needed. My suitcase was already out on the floor, and I put what I could find into it. I got back in the taxi and asked the driver to take me to a hotel.

The next day I saw my picture splashed across the tabloid newspapers. One, the Morning Post, captioned the photo with the headline "Getting away with Murder". The bastards will pay for that, I thought. When I got into work I walked across the factory floor and someone started clapping. As more people noticed me the applause grew louder. As I reached the door to the offices I turned, took a very theatrical bow and the applause turned to laughter. Sally, my secretary, welcomed me with a kiss on the cheek.

"I knew it couldn't be true," she told me as she put a cup of coffee down on the desk.

Within minutes, Bob Danvers was in my office. "Good to see you back where you belong, Kevin. The lawyers told me what happened. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Bob. I wish I could say the same for my house. They've wrecked the place." I showed Bob the pictures on my phone.

"Print those out for me and I'll get them over to the lawyers. It seems to me they've no right calling your house a crime scene when they don't even know that a crime's been committed. Then there's the damage they've done—you deserve to be compensated for that. Come to think of it, where are you living? You can't live in that mess."

"I spent last night in a hotel. I thought I'd stay there until the weekend then try to find a short term furnished flat."

"You'll do no such thing. Wendy and I have plenty of room—you can live with us for a while until we find you somewhere suitable to stay. Just you remember, Kevin, you have friends here, and friends help each other. Now don't forget to give me those pictures." He left my office and I got to work.

As I was on my way out to lunch Sally called out to me. "Kevin—Bob asked me to find you somewhere to live, but I don't really know what to look for. If you don't want a hotel, do you want a flat, or would a bed & breakfast do? Would you consider being someone's lodger?"

"I hadn't given it much thought, really, Sally."

"The reason I ask is that my Aunt Helen takes in lodgers and she doesn't have anyone at present."

"Are you sure she'd be okay with having a murder suspect in her house?"

"You're no murderer," she laughed. "Anyway, we don't even know if there has been a murder."

"Well, if you check your aunt and uncle are happy, it might be a good solution."

"I'll phone Aunt Helen this afternoon. Oh, by the way, there is no uncle—he died five years ago."

That afternoon Sally called her aunt and arranged for me to visit her that evening. I took the pictures in to Bob and told him that I wouldn't need his offer of help.

Helen Warrender was a fine looking woman. She was in her early fifties, though at first glance you'd have put her age closer to forty. She was five foot six inches tall with a slim waist and a delightful curve to her hips. She had piercing blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair which was greying but not yet grey. She had a nice home, and when she showed me the double room she had available I was convinced I should take it. I felt it only right to make sure that she was fully in the picture. Her response sealed the deal.

"Sally told me all about it. I think it's disgusting they should treat you like that."

I had forgotten what it was like to have someone look after me. Every morning I was treated to the sight of the lovely Helen serving me with breakfast. She insisted I didn't restrict myself to my bedroom.

"This is a big house for me, Mr Bryant, and I do get lonely. Just having someone else in the room of an evening is welcome."

As the weeks went by, I came to realise that lodging with Helen was better than living with Lisa, with the exception of the occasional sex. Even the latter resolved itself as time went by. One night I came back to find Helen in a panic. She couldn't stop water flowing through the toilet cistern. I told her not to worry, found the stopcock and turned it off. I inspected the cistern, found the problem and after a quick trip to the Do-It-Yourself store, I fitted a new valve and turned the water on again. Helen was completely overwhelmed with gratitude. She hugged me tightly and kissed me on the lips. Possibly it was because it had been so long, but more likely it was the feeling of Helen's body against mine. My cock started to swell and pressed against her as I kissed her back. We stood there for several moments looking into each other's eyes.

"It feels like you need something as much as I do. Take me to bed, Kevin, take me now."

I swept her up in my arms and carried her up to her bedroom. I put her back on her feet and kissed her again. I eased the zip of her dress down below her waist, lifted it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. For a while I stood and looked at her.

"Don't look too closely," she said. "It's all seen better days."

"Well, if it has I'd like to have seen it. It looks pretty good to me right now."

"Oh, you say the nicest things."

She unbuttoned my shirt and released my belt. As I stepped out of my trousers I kissed her again, with a passion that I'd forgotten I had. I pulled the duvet back, swept her up in my arms and laid her out on the bed. I lay down beside her, reached around and unclipped her bra, releasing what I can only describe as her beautiful breasts. They weren't big and they sagged a bit, but I thought they were beautiful. I reached down, put my thumbs under the waistband of her panties and pushed them down. Helen raised her legs so that I could remove the panties completely.

"Be gentle, Kevin. It's been a long time."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything you don't want."

I pulled her to me and held her tightly. As I kissed her tenderly she brought a hand around and pulled my head closer, her lips parted and our tongues danced a sensual rumba. My hands ran down her back. As I reached her hips she thrust them forward, grinding against my very erect dick.

"We shouldn't be doing this—but I want it so much."

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

She wrapped one leg around mine, and I ran my hand over her arse cheeks then slipped my fingers into her crack. When I started to probe her anus she forced herself harder against me.

"Oh, yes, Kevin, I need this so much. Please, please take me now."

I turned her onto her back and started to play with her nipples. I ran my fingers down to her pussy and fastened my lips on her nipple. My fingers found her clitoris and gently circled and stroked it. In less than a minute, several years of pent up frustration were released in an orgasm that took her breath away completely. As I lay beside her she shook uncontrollably and I hugged her until she stopped shaking. I rolled onto my back, pulling Helen on top of me. I moved her knees up to my waist and she sat back onto my hips. I lifted her up a little and eased my cock into her. As she started to move up and down on my dick, I squeezed her breasts and used my thumbs on her nipples.

"Oh, Kevin, I've missed this so much. Fill me, Kevin. Fill me with your seed."

Her breathing became more erratic, coming in gasps. I could feel my cock throbbing as it was caressed by the wet walls of her pussy. She tightened around me as I rhythmically moved up and down.

"Oh, no—oh, no—oh—oh—oh, yes!"

Her pussy squeezed my cock, and I sent streams of sperm shooting into her cervix. She was trembling once again, and I pulled her down on to my chest and hugged her. As we lay there I stroked her back and kissed her shoulders. Gently I rolled her onto her back and got up to get us both a glass of wine. We sat, we drank, and then we fucked some more until eventually Helen fell asleep. There are many times in a person's life when they think, what would have happened if I had done things differently? This was such a time for me. I decided to go back to my own room and leave Helen to sleep. I've often wondered what would have happened had I stayed with her that night.

The following morning things were back to normal. Helen was waiting on me, and I was Mr Bryant again. That evening I invited Helen to go to dinner with me.

"Mr Bryant—Kevin—what happened last night was a mistake, it should never have happened."

"But it did happen, Helen, and it was good, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was good, it was more than good—but it was wrong. You're still married and I—I have someone."

"You have someone? Then why last night?"

"He's old school. He won't take me to bed until we're married, but it has been so long since I felt a real man inside me. I'm so sorry, Kevin, that I took advantage of you, but it must never happen again."

"Helen, if a man has the opportunity to make love to you and turns it down, I have doubts about his sanity."

"Nevertheless, we have an agreement and I will marry him. So, you see, last night must never happen again."

"Like I said last night, Helen, I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

I kept my promise to her, but in the three months I spent with her we had another two nights of passion. Each was followed by similar guilt on her part. The police occupied my house for over a month, and when I was handed back the keys the place was far from habitable. It took almost two months to get it back in a condition I could live with. Much of my furniture had to be replaced and the garden was a mess.

*****

"Well," said Lisa, "looks like you haven't been celibate while I've been away."

"What do you mean by that?"

"This place. If I'm not mistaken, I see a woman's touch in the decoration. The colours and the furniture, definitely not your choice."

"I paid someone else to do it. When the police were finished with it I either had to completely refurbish it or sell up. Since I'd paid off the mortgage, and didn't want to start again, I got a designer in and we made it better."

"Was it that bad, then?"

"I'll show you the pictures if you like. They even checked I hadn't buried you under the concrete floor."

"Oh, Kevin, I never imagined anything like that. I really am very sorry."

"It's water under the bridge now, Lisa. We're divorced and both free agents, and to be honest that's all that matters to me now."

"You keep saying that. How can we be divorced without me knowing about it? I haven't agreed to it, and I still won't."