With Age Comes Experience

I must have looked like a goldfish at that point with my mouth opening and closing, but no sounds coming out.

"No need to thank me," laughed Bob. "Buy me a drink afterwards in the clubhouse. Now come on, we've got to get a move on."

"I can't," I protested, pointing to the puppy. "I've got a puppy to look after now, haven't I? I can't just leave it on its own. And it needs a new bed, blankets, a collar and lead, food, toys…"

"All taken care of Clem," said Marcus putting a sturdy hand on my shoulder. "He's fully kitted out. It's all in the car, I'll bring it in."

"And we'll stay here today and look after him, get him settled in for you," said Hannah. "I need to get packed for Uni anyway."

What a set-up! They'd all got me just where they wanted me!

I stood up, gave her hair a friendly ruffle – that always annoyed her – and then bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "When did you become such a devious, sneaky, caring, intelligent grown up?" I whispered.

Hannah turned and looked at me. "I always have been," she said, "I learnt from a good teacher, my Dad. He's cool."

I brushed away a stray tear.

"Come on, Clem," exhorted Bob, "We'd better get going, Ridley'll be fine."

Hannah and Marcus chorused their goodbyes and Ridley yapped excitedly. Bob paused by the kitchen door. "Oh, Clem - we can spare five minutes," he said. "Only you'd better change your trousers. The puppy's pee'd on them."

I played a better round of golf that afternoon. Bob still beat me, but my handicap had improved considerably. I even managed not to talk about Sammy once whilst we went round, concentrating instead on the game and reminiscing about Rufus. As Bob and I repaired to the clubhouse, I put my hand on his shoulder. "Thanks mate," I said. "I really haven't been much of a friend lately, have I?"

"Forget it," said Bob, putting his hand on mine – all very manly- and shaking it. "You've helped me out loads of times in the past. That's what mates are for. Oh – did you bring your cheque book?"

"Yeah, why?" I asked.

"Only you'll be needing to pay your membership fees today," said Bob, "I can't keep signing you in as a guest. You'll have to buy some clubs too."

"I thought new members had to be proposed and seconded and approved?" I asked.

"Well, I proposed you, Gerald seconded you and that was good enough for the Committee," said Bob as we walked into the clubhouse. "Mind you, it helps that Gerald is the Club Chairman." A few drinkers greeted Bob, and a couple of others nodded politely to me, recognising me from before.

"Ah – here's Gerald," said Bob, clapping a sturdy middle aged executive type clad in a blazer on the back.

Bob introduced us. "Ah, Mr Clements – Richard, isn't it?" said Waverley, as immaculately spoken as he was dressed. "Bob told me about your sad bereavement, Please accept my condolences."

"Uh – er - thank you," I stammered. "And –uh – please call me Clem, everyone else does."

"Your uncle Rufus was an inspiration to us all, wasn't he?" put in Bob, quickly.

"He certainly was," I said, struggling to keep a straight face, realising how Bob had bought me extra time with the McIntyre account. "Sadly missed."

"I called my Marketing chap Webber this morning at home," added Waverley. "Told him to extend the deadline for two weeks for you on account of your having to settle your Uncle's estate. That suit you will it?"

I bought Waverley and Bob large drinks and nudged Bob in the ribs after Waverley, having welcomed me to the club, wandered out for his round of golf.

"You cunt!" I hissed, "Thanks!"

"Anytime you miserable old bastard," smiled Bob raising his glass. "Cheers!"

Things improved rapidly from then on. I managed to finish the McIntyre report ahead of the new schedule and Waverley was delighted, even authorising a bonus payment to me for my trouble. Hannah started at Uni mid -September and seemed to thoroughly enjoy her forensics course - grisly though it was in parts – and was obviously working hard.

Ridley turned out to be a superb dog, a clown of the first order, just like Rufus had been, although he was far more mischievous. I enrolled in some puppy training classes organised by the local dog club and actually found myself enjoying the discipline of training a young dog. I took Ridley with me sometimes when I went to play golf, now thoroughly enjoying the game, and the little fella was quite happy to snooze in the back of the car on his special blanket whilst I went round.

I still had my bad days – thoughts of Sammy came tumbling back, sometimes I'd dream about her and wake up feeling thoroughly wretched and depressed. I don't care what anyone says – sex is important. And if you've been used to it on regular basis for a long period of time and then it's suddenly withdrawn, it does affect you. A quick wank over a dirty magazine is no substitute.

But just to prove that miracles do sometimes happen, my redemption was pretty much completed when I met Rose. We all like to think we've met our soul mates in life with our partners, but it's a sad fact that we very seldom do. I am convinced to this day that I finally found my soul mate in Rose.

It all came about in November. Gerald Waverley had been so impressed with my report for McIntyres that he asked me if I'd be so kind as to prepare a report for the Golf Club Committee on the possible sale of some 'waste ground' (basically some fallow fields) which adjoined the course and which was owned by the club. The idea was to put the land up for development, with old folks' sheltered housing the preferred option. I felt that I could afford to be generous and do the work for nothing – it wasn't that difficult anyway – so Waverley had immediately suggested that I be co-opted onto the Committee to fill a position that had fallen vacant. I was reluctant at first, but allowed myself to be co-opted. After all, there weren't that many committee meetings and it was something to do. Perhaps, I reflected sadly to myself, I was slipping into middle age a little more gracefully now.

So one fateful evening, as the Committee meeting broke up and we adjourned to the members' bar, my attention was suddenly caught by a very attractive red haired woman at the bar, chatting to an older woman. They were both obviously lady members of the club. I estimated the redhead's age to be somewhere in her mid to late 30s. Her hair reached the shoulders of her smart jacket, underneath which she wore a purple open-necked blouse and a mid length dark skirt, which matched the jacket. Her legs were long and shapely. Waverley came up behind me, noticed my interest, and steered me towards the vision of loveliness.

"Ah, excuse me ladies," he said. The older woman smiled and nodded, then went to join a group at a table. "Rose, I'd like you to meet Richard Clements – Clem to his friends," said Waverley. "Clem, this is Rose Monahan."

She smiled and extended a long hand towards me, which I gratefully shook. "Hello Clem," she smiled, her slightly tanned face breaking into a huge smile, her red lips parting to reveal lots of nice white teeth. Not perfectly straight, but that was part of the attraction. She had laughter lines round her eyes and the eyes themselves were a wonderful deep bluish green. He voice was slightly husky, not vampish, but sexy.

Somehow I stammered out a greeting, my heart pounding and offered to buy her a drink. I tuned to offer Waverley one, but he'd sneaked off to talk to the older woman and her friends at the table.

So we drank and we talked and we drank some more and we talked some more. I found Rose genuinely fascinating and she, for her part, seemed interested in what I had to say. What I think did it for us was when she pricked her ears up at an old ABC song on the Club's 'quiet' jukebox. "I love the 80s stuff," she sighed. "Late 70s, early 80s, I'm there. That was my time."

"Mine too," I enthused and we were away, swapping stories of discos and oh-so-cool fashions and how we thought we were the bees knees.

"I became a punk when I was 15," laughed Rose. "I had my hair cut short and spiked up, had it dyed pitch black. My parents nearly had a fit. They certainly did at my Catholic School – I almost got expelled for being a rebel! Later on I became a New Romantic – big Ultravox fan I was."

I laughed. "Me too! I was a member of the U.I.S. – Ultravox Information Service,"

"I don't believe it!" roared Rose, "So as I. It wasn't ever the Ultravox Fan Club or the Ultravox Appreciation Society, was it? No… 'Information Service'."

"I used to try to shave my sideburns to a point like Midge Ure's," I chuckled. "Couldn't grow them thick enough though. Same with the moustache… never worked!

This carried on for ages, and soon it became obvious that most of the members had drifted off home and the bar steward had lowered all but one of the bar grilles in a rather pointed attempt to make us drink up and also go home. So I took a gamble and asked Rose out to dinner. To my amazement, she accepted.

So we had dinner the following week and learnt more about each other. Rose was a divorcee and, technically, a widow. Her ex husband, a drinker and womaniser had left her for a younger model, leaving her with the care of three school age children. He'd been drunk when his car had crashed, a few months after she had successfully divorced him and gladly reverted to her maiden name – her father being an Irish immigrant railway worker. She was proud of her Irish roots but, as she joked running her hands through her hair, she had to dye her Irish roots a bit more nowadays.

She ran her own small PR business, having trained in journalism before she was married and was doing reasonably well for herself. Her three kids were all pretty much grown and flown, like Hannah and, as we both agreed, like all teenagers and twenty-somethings, they knew it all.

"But we were the same, weren't we?" I said, "Thought we knew it all, invented it all, no-one could do it better."

"True enough," agreed Rose, "But the music was definitely better back then!"

The third date was to a Grand Prix meeting at Silverstone. It was different, anyway! One of Rose's hobbies – no – one of Rose's passions was Formula One racing. She was an avid follower of every Grand Prix series and a devoted McClaren fan. Whereas she'd be perfectly happy to crack open a few beers and watch F1 on the telly, she was never happier than going to see a race for herself. I was pretty ambivalent about racing cars until I met Rose. Let's just say that I became a very willing – but genuine – convert. That's love for you, I guess.

On the fourth date, we had sex. Well¸ not actually when we were on the date – they'd have noticed that at the cinema, even in the dark – but afterwards when Rose invited me back to her place for coffee – a suggestion which had us both laughing like kids.

"I know you've got a dog to get home to," said Rose as she led me indoors, "So have I – this is Millie."

Millie turned up out be a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who, apparently, adored Labradors. "Always goes up to them when we're out walking," said Rose. "Good job the little minx is neutered!"

"She'll have to meet Ridley then," I said. "So come over next time, yeah?"

Rose nodded and then silently took my hand and led me up the stairs of her cosy, well furnished Semi.

Her bedroom was extremely pleasing and was an interesting mix of styles. I was delighted to see three framed posters of various 80s band gigs, including Ultravox at Hammersmith Odeon in 1983. But the bed was the main focus of attention – big, wide and comfy, a four-poster no less.

We sat down on the bed together and Rose slipped her jacket off. She made the first move, slipping her slender hand round the back of my head, running her fingers through my hair and pulling me close to her, our tongues filling each other's mouths.

I ran my hand over her sleek red blouse, slipping under her open collar, under her bra strap and along her shoulder. Inevitable memories suddenly flashed back but I fought against them.

I swiftly unbuttoned Rose's blouse and shrugged it off her, running my hands over her breasts – larger, obviously, than Sammy's, but still firm. Her nipples hardened beneath the silky material of her bra and I bent to gently nip each one with my teeth through the material. Rose groaned with pleasure and then pushed me back onto the bed, quickly undoing my loose tie and pulling my shirt open. She lay across me, licking and kissing my bare chest, teasing my nipples with her teeth. I reached around her back and wrenched her bra undone, pulling it off her, freeing her large, adorable breasts.

Rose sat over me and let me lick and bite her nipples into painful erectness, moaning loudly as my hand reached up under her skirt and pressed three fingers against her panties, the material suddenly becoming wet. My fingers slipped past the panties and sought the moist, welcoming depths of her cunt, teasing her clit, drawing juices from within her.

"Clem…. Clem…" she moaned. Suddenly she sat up and motioned me to move up the bed to the head end. Following her lead, I stripped off to my boxer shorts. She removed her wet panties to show a glorious pelvic mound, which, I have to admit, did contain a lot of red hairs. I was about to pull my boxers off when she stopped me.

"Wait," she whispered, her voice huskier with lust. She positioned herself over me, her cunt just above my face and lowered her head towards my bulging groin. "You do me and I'll do you," she breathed wickedly.

I grabbed her buttocks and forced her fanny down to me, my tongue tasting her, probing deep, exploring her depths, finding her aching clit and pummelling it. I felt her tense and shudder, then it was my turn to tense as she grabbed the bulge if my groin and slipped her long fingers inside the flap on my shorts, her fingertips teasing the wet end of my throbbing cock. She withdrew her hand, gripped the flap of my boxers and suddenly ripped the fabric, tearing the shorts apart, letting my aching tackle spill free. I gasped at the intensity of her actions and then caught my breath as she took my pulsing cock into her mouth, moving her lips up and down the shaft, her teeth gently raking the skin either side, her tongue busily licking the purple head.

The pressure was uncontrollable, I felt my balls shudder and I was pumping, spurting into her mouth. At the same time my tongue jabbed against her clit, my fingers busily working alongside in her cunt and she responded with a wild spasm, releasing her juices into my mouth. We both would have cried out, but weren't able to as we had our mouths full.

Rose gently released me and rocked back onto my chest, slowly turned round and then flopped down next to me on the bed, one arm gripping me tightly. Our chests heaved with the exertion, our bodies covered with sweat.

"That was so good!" I gasped, licking my lips, still tasting her.

"Mmmm – you too," she whispered. "I knew I'd have to give you a blow job before we had sex though – same with me. It's been a while hasn't it?"

I had to admit that it had.

"I knew it," she smiled. "I looked at you that first time we met and I thought –'there's a man who needs a blow job. No two ways about it, a blow job he must have!'"

"That's such a coincidence," I chuckled.

"What is?" he asked.

"When I saw you I thought to myself; 'That woman needs to give me a blow job. No two ways about it, a blow job she must give me!"

Rose laughed and playfully slapped my chest. I responded by playfully slapping her backside.

I realised then that I had pretty much exorcised the demon named Sammy.

"Loved it," sighed Rose. "Sometimes I wish I back in the early 80s, you know, a youngster again, but you know what they say Clem, with age comes experience!"

"So they say," I agreed.

Some months later, well into the following year, I received an e-mail from Sammy. I'd long since got over her, but it was still a shock when I opened the mail sent from an unfamiliar e-mail address to realise that it was from her.

She'd obviously taken time to write it and had chosen her words carefully, but essentially, the style was all Sammy.

She apologised for her behaviour, said how sorry she was we parted on such bad terms and she realised now how kind I'd been to her and how cruel she'd been to me. The phrase 'no way are you old, Clem' was repeated twice in the mail, which pleased me. She also told me that I had been her first.

She told me how Baz had been arrested, how she'd genuinely had no idea that Baz and his mates had ripped off her parents; how her father had cancelled her credit card and told her not to come home until he said so. How her clothes and possessions had all been sent to Bristol University by her parents, how she'd not been home for months.

I had to admit, part of me felt she deserved it, the other part felt sorry for her. She still had some of the money I'd given her which had kept her going for a few weeks, but now she had her student grant and she was working part time at a TGIF place to make ends meet. She promised to pay me back the money one day when she could. Her media studies were going well and he'd made some new friends.

'No boyfriends though', she wrote. 'I'm off men for a while, no offence.'

I wrote back a restrained, grown-up, even – dare I say it? – fatherly mail, saying yes, I had been upset, but that I'd been madly jealous and should not have come after her in the way I did at the pub. I expressed my feelings about Baz and his mates being arrested and assured her that her parents would mellow in time and forgive her, because 'that's what us parents do.'

I told her about Rose, said I was happy, told her Hannah was getting on okay and that I had a new dog. I told her not to worry about the money, it didn't matter.

After that, we e-mailed every so often. Nothing heavy, nothing sexual, just two friends – of different ages admittedly – writing to each other to exchange news. And so things continued for the next few months.

Time passed….

Rose and I became ever closer, hardly ever arguing, just very happy and content in each other's company. The sex was brilliant, Rose having a very broad repertoire and, sharing my tastes in bondage and roughness.

Rose's kids met me and seemed to like me well enough and Hannah surprised me totally by really taking to Rose and treating her almost like a second mother or, more accurately, as the mother she'd never had. Sadly, I couldn't introduce Daniel to Rose, but, as she told me, one day she'd meet him and one day he and I would talk again. And Ridley and Millie absolutely adored each other.

Hannah graduated from Uni with honours and was all set for a top-flight job in the police force. Sammy also graduated with some distinction and secured a job at BBC Bristol as a research assistant in the News and Current Affairs department. My consultancy work was never better and, with Rose's PR skills, I'd marketed myself to a wider clientele. I played golf regularly with Bob and my handicap was something to be proud of. I even beat Bob a few times and I was certain he wasn't letting me win. And for some weird reason, known only to themselves, Reefer and Jaq – bubbly Jaq with her little conker-coloured ponytail and flashing eyes – asked me to be Godfather to their second child, a boy named Richard.

I felt content, I felt… happy. Life was good, really good.

And it got better. Hannah told me one day that Daniel had expressed a wish to meet me and put the past behind us. I was flabbergasted. I'd known that Daniel and Hannah had remained in touch over the years, mainly by e-mail and the occasional phone call, but he'd never wanted to patch things up with me. The most I knew about Daniel nowadays was that he'd adopted his mother's maiden name when he'd moved out with her, joined the RAF at 17, then latterly left the RAF aged 22 because it wasn't for him and was now working in the private sector. Working at what, I didn't know.