A Month with Maree

It was a bit after five on a Friday afternoon. Jacko was walking down Charlotte Street, headed towards Tottenham Court Road Tube station. He had been to a meeting with a customer research outfit whose offices were on one of those cross streets between Charlotte Street and Tottenham Court Road, and he was trying to decide if he might pop in somewhere and treat himself to an end-of-the-week ale. But then he had a better idea. He would go and see if his old boss, Laurence Harry Bates, aka Skipper, was in his lair.

When Jacko walked into the ground floor reception of the building that RKB shared with a couple of other marcoms businesses, he was greeted by Alfred, one of the night security guards.

'Hello, young sir,' Alfred said. 'Returning to the scene of the crime?'

'Something like that, Alfred,' Jacko said. 'I was just wondering if the Skipper is still on the bridge. Or has he already pulled for shore?'

Alfred shook his head. 'No, no. He's still up there -- as far as I know. I think they've got a bit of a party going on.'

'Oh? Something important?'

Alfred shook his head again. 'No. Just the usual suspects, I think. Do you need me to announce you? Or do you want to just go on up? I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you.'

'I think I'll just go up and surprise him,' Jacko said.

Jacko took the lift to the sixth floor and then followed the trail of chatter and laughter until he arrived at the entrance to Conference Room Two, otherwise known as Skipper's Friday Night Bar. 'Permission to come aboard, Skipper,' he called out.

Laurie Bates turned and beamed. 'Jacko! Gang the manplank,' he commanded. 'Pipe the side. Let go aft.'

'How are you, Skipper?' Jacko asked.

'Fit as a fiddle. Well ... no. Not quite. I think the chef may have gone a bit overboard with the saltshaker at lunch. Left me with a bit of a thirst. But we'll soon have that sorted. Here ... try this red. Argentinian. Brilliant. If I didn't know better, I'd have said Bordeaux. And a pretty decent Bordeaux at that. Pauillac perhaps.'

Jacko took a sip from the glass that Laurie Bates handed him. And, yes, Laurie was not wrong. It was very good. And Alfred had been right too; the room was heaving with the usual suspects, mainly current and ex RKB crew members. But there was also a woman who Jacko didn't recognise. Laurie must have noticed Jacko looking at her.

'Oh ... Jacko ... come and meet Maree.'

Maree (now that he knew her name) was a bit older than Jacko. She was probably in her mid-to-late 30s, and she was rather attractive in a professional sort of way, with dark chestnut-coloured hair worn up in a bun, or a French roll, or whatever, and large, tortoiseshell glasses that made her look ever so slightly owlish. Jacko guessed that she was probably a corporate lawyer of some sort. Perhaps with one of the big international firms.

'Maree, meet Jack Masterson,' Laurie said. 'Jacko's one of the ones who got away. But he'll be back. They all come back. Eventually.'

'How do you do?' Jacko said.

'Maree is keeping me on the straight and narrow while Anita is spending some time with her mother,' Laurie said. And then, suddenly, he looked sad.

Well ... Jacko had got that one wrong. Not a corporate lawyer. A temporary EA to the boss of an advertising agency. Jacko was losing his touch.

'Good luck with keeping the skipper on the straight and narrow,' Jacko said. 'I think it has been pretty much established that Laurie is unmanageable.'

Maree smiled.

'Right. I'll leave you two to ...,' Laurie said.

'I take it that Anita's mother is running out of time,' Jacko said.

Maree nodded. 'Yes. Sadly. Weeks not months.'

'Oh, dear.'

'But it's good that mother and daughter have this time together,' Maree said.

'True,' Jacko said.

And then Tom Verco bounded up demanding that Jacko adjudicate on the meaning of the word anticipate. Dave Walker insisted that it meant no more than 'to expect' or 'await'. Tom was adamant that it meant 'to expect and take steps to mitigate the effects of whatever it was that was expected'.

'Alas, I think that particular battle has been lost,' Jacko told Tom. 'A hundred years ago, you would have been correct. General Pilkington-Brown might have anticipated an attack on the left flank and despatched a squadron from the Royal Gloucestershire Hussars to deal with it. But now, I'm afraid, we are in the era of the much-anticipated third album. Anticipate has gone the way of unique and a few other such words.'

'Well, dammit, this has got to stop,' Tom said. 'It's time someone made a stand.'

Jacko wished Tom good luck with his crusade and turned back to Maree. But she was gone.

Laurie's Argentinian Bordeaux taste-alike red was very pleasant indeed but, after Jacko had worked the room for half an hour or so, he decided that he wasn't really in the mood. He bade Laurie goodnight and headed back out to the lifts. Maree was already waiting there. 'Home time?' he said.

'Home time,' she confirmed.

They took the lift back to the ground floor, wished Alfred goodnight, and went back out into the Friday night crowd. For some reason, Jacko wasn't sure why, as they hovered outside the plate glass front doors, Jacko suddenly felt it incumbent upon him to inform Maree that there was a half-decent tapas bar just a little bit further along the street.

'Oh?' she said.

'Perhaps a quick glass of cleansing white to see you on your way?' he suggested.

She seemed surprised -- which was probably fair enough considering that she had only just met him -- but then she glanced at her watch. 'All right then,' she said.

Miguel's was busy, but not too busy. Jacko caught Mike Baker's eye and held up two fingers. A couple of minutes later, Mike was delivering a couple of glasses of cool, crisp Verdejo.

'So, how are you finding RKB?'

Maree smiled. 'Interesting,' she said. 'I've never worked in an advertising agency before. My normal stomping ground is The City. And you were right: managing the man you call Skipper is ... well ... let's say it's a challenge.'

Jacko laughed. 'Yes. He's like a naughty schoolboy, isn't he? A very clever naughty schoolboy. A very kind and generous naughty schoolboy. But a naughty schoolboy nevertheless.'

Before they reached the bottom of their wine glasses, Jacko discovered that Maree was recently separated from her hot-shot lawyer husband, that she had two young sons, and that she was a big fan of European-style jazz.

'Two sons?' Jacko said. 'So, does that mean that you are in for a full weekend of sport?'

'No, the boys are with their father this weekend. We take turns.'

'Oh. And what does your weekend hold -- in the absence of junior football matches?'

'Not a lot really,' she said.

'In that case,' -- and Jacko really didn't know why he said this -- 'why don't you come and have supper with me tomorrow night. Nothing flash. But I do have a whole shelf of ECM CDs. Eberhard Weber. Jan Garbarek. Gary Burton. Dave Holland. A few others.'

Again Maree seemed surprised. And, again, why wouldn't she be? But then, after a moment or two, she said: 'OK. Thank you. You'd better tell me where and when.'

Jacko gave her an address. They exchanged telephone numbers. And then Maree said that she had better be going.

Jacko waved Maree goodbye and then decided to allow himself one more glass of wine while he worked out what he was going to cook for Saturday supper.

'Who was that?' Mike asked. 'Your accountant?'

'No,' Jacko said. 'But I know what you mean. She could pass for one, couldn't she?'

'Or a lawyer,' Mike said.

Jacko smiled.

Even though it was only October, Saturday's weather forecast was for a cool north-easterly and occasional showers. Barbequed spatchcock chicken was briefly on the menu. But then, just in case the forecasters turned out to be right, Jacko decided to make a cassoulet. Smokey sausage. Bacon. Beans. Confit duck legs. Herbs. Breadcrumbs. He'd go light on the garlic. And he'd make a salad of tomatoes, courgettes, and capsicums to add an element of freshness.

The invitation to supper had been a spur of the moment thing -- and Jacko distinctly remembered warning Maree that supper would be 'nothing flash' -- but, by about three o'clock on Saturday afternoon, he still found himself starting to fret over what wine to serve. In the end, he wandered down to his local wine merchant for some professional advice.

'Cassoulet?' Rosemary said. 'I'd probably go for a red. And not too heavy. It's not as if we are in the depths of winter just yet. Thank goodness. Maybe a Côtes du Rhône? Perhaps a Villages?'

Yes. That made sense. Jacko took a couple of bottles of the Chapoutier and promised Rosemary that he would report back.

Jacko had suggested to Maree that she come over at about six-thirty. You tend to get your money's worth with ECM recordings. If they were going to get through more than two or three, they would need to start early.

Maree arrived pretty much on the dot -- and Jacko almost didn't recognise her. Her hair was down; she had abandoned her glasses; and her business suit had been replaced with a dress that fell happily between casual and party.

'Nice to see you again,' Jacko said as I took her umbrella. 'And I'm sorry about the weather. It seems the gods didn't get my note.'

'No. I'm not sure that they check their emails as often as they might,' Maree said. 'And I wasn't sure what wine. Red or white. So I've gone down the middle. A New Zealand rosé. The chap at the offy said that it had won some award.'

'Excellent,' Jacko said. 'Then perhaps we should get the party started.'

While Jacko went and found some glasses, Maree looked around. 'This place is very nice,' she said.

'It's not bad, is it? Unfortunately, I'm just renting it,' Jacko said. 'The owners are out in Australia for six months. I'm hoping that they will decide to move out there permanently and then I can buy the place.'

'I shall keep my fingers crossed for you,' Maree said.

The New Zealand rosé was not one that Jacko had tried before, but it was very nice. It was a bit heavier than a typical French rosé, but, yes, very nice. 'Cheers.'

'To new friends,' Maree said.

'And strange men who invite you to supper just two minutes after meeting you.'

Maree laughed. 'A bit of a surprise, I must confess,' she said. 'But a nice surprise.'

'I hope you like cassoulet,' Jacko said.

'Cassoulet? Yes. Love it. We spent a week down in the Languedoc last winter, and I ate cassoulet three nights in a row. Not good for my waistline. But a real treat for my taste buds.'

'Oh, dear. So I'm competing with the real thing?' Jacko said.

Maree just smiled.

In truth, Jacko's cassoulet turned out even better than he had hoped that it would. The lower tier was deliciously rich and almost soupy, while the triple crust herby upper tier was ... well ... crusty and herby.

'This is brilliant,' Maree said. 'I'd say two Michelin stars at least.'

They ate, they sipped, they chatted, and of course they listened to music that they both really enjoyed. And then after they had cleared away the dishes, they danced. Yes, old-fashioned 'holding each other' danced. Jacko wasn't sure how that happened. It must have been Maree. It was certainly not the sort of thing that Jacko would normally have done. But it was very nice.

They started out like a middle-aged couple at a tea dance. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. But, by the time Wolfgang Haffner and friends were halfway through their version of My Funny Valentine, Jacko's hand had slipped down to rest on Maree's bum. Beneath her dress she was wearing a body shaper garment of some sort. And then she said that she needed to use the bathroom. When she returned from the bathroom, they resumed where they had left off. This time Maree was apparently not wearing anything beneath her dress.

They danced on until Haffner and Co had reached the end of the John Lewis classic Django, and then Jacko said: 'Look, I may be mis-reading things here, but just in case I'm not, there's a bedroom just opposite the bathroom.'

'A bedroom? Does it have soft lighting?' Maree asked.

'It can do,' Jacko said.

'In that case, no, I don't think you are mis-reading anything.' And she smiled and led the way -- almost as if she was worried that Jacko might change his mind.

The bedside lamps were on dimmers. Jacko switched them on and turned the dimmers down low. 'OK?'

Maree nodded and smiled.

'That's very nice dress,' Jacko said. 'But perhaps we had better put it on a hanger.'

'Hmm ... maybe.'

Jacko got a coat hanger from the wardrobe and, before he had a chance to think about what to do next, Maree kissed him. 'Nice,' he said.

'Very nice.'

Jacko threw back the duvet. 'Right. Dress off,' he said.

She held her hand up. 'You might want to close your eyes,' she said.

'I don't think so.'

Maree laughed. 'Then don't say I didn't warn you.' And, next thing, she was standing there in just her bra and stockings.

'Beautiful,' Jacko said.

She laughed again. 'Come on. Your turn,' she said.

What had Jacko been expecting? Well ... half an hour earlier, he hadn't been expecting anything. And now Maree was standing in front of him wearing next to nothing.

Without her shoes, Maree was quite a bit shorter. And she had a mummy tummy, complete with a neat C-section scar. Jacko was also pleased to see that she had natural bush that matched the dark hair on her head.

'Yes, beautiful,' he said.

Jacko got undressed and they kissed again. This time Jacko's fingers explored Maree's beautiful bushy mound. And then Maree shuffled her feet and spread her thighs slightly, making it clear that Jacko was being invited inside. To his surprise, she was already getting rather damp. 'Perhaps this would be easier on the bed,' he suggested. Maree smiled and nodded.

In Jacko's limited experience, there was something a little daunting about 'first times'. By definition, it's uncharted territory, somewhere neither of you has been before. You both hope for the best, but you can never be absolutely sure which path will take you there. Maree had responded positively to his exploring fingers, so he kept on keeping on. And Maree returned the favour and soon had Jacko's cock standing on tip toes.

A couple of minutes into their mutual prestidigitation, Maree began to sigh and pant and make little mewing sounds, and Jacko was pleased that his upstairs neighbours had gone away for the weekend. At least he hoped that they had gone away for the weekend. He hoped that they hadn't had a change of plan. And then, a couple of minutes after that, Maree began to shake and shudder.

'Oh, fuck. I want to feel you inside me,' she said when she calmed down.

Jacko was more than happy to oblige. He positioned himself between her spread thighs and introduced the head of his stiff cock to her wet and waiting entrance.

They began slowly, enjoying the new sensation. It's another of those moments, isn't it, when you know what you want to happen but, until you've tried it, you have no real idea of quite how it will work out. What works for one person doesn't necessarily work for another. But, for Maree and Jacko, it all worked out perfectly. It was as though they had been designed for each other.

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'That feels perfect. Perfect.'

And yet ... Jacko was already starting to have doubts. Not doubts that Maree was great company. Not doubts that the sex was great. But a feeling that it had all fallen into place a little too easily. Jacko was used to having to put in the hard yards. He had known her barely twenty-four hours, and here they were zooming along like legendary lovers from another age.

Somewhere around eleven, Maree announced that she should probably be going.

'What? Bored already?' Jacko said.

She smiled. 'No. But ... well, you know.'

'I don't think I do,' he said with a smile.

When Jacko woke up at about three o'clock, Maree was still there. And whatever had woken him had apparently woken her too. Or maybe they had woken each other.

'What time is it?' she asked.

'Just gone three.'

'Gosh,' she said.

'Do you want anything?' he asked. 'A glass of water? A cup of tea?'

'That thing that you did to me before was pretty nice.'

'The thing where I put my ... umm ... into your ... umm ...?'

'That one,' she said. 'Yes.'

'Well, we could always ....'

'That's what I was thinking,' she said.

The second time that they woke up it was just gone six.

'I should be going,' Maree said.

'At this hour?'

'If I'm not there, one of the boys will have forgotten his socks or something. And Bradley will bring them around. And if I'm not there, Bradley will start phoning me and wanting to know where I am. And, frankly, it's none of his fucking business.' And then she kissed Jacko softly.

'Am I allowed to phone you?' he asked.

'I hope that you will,' she said. 'I shall be disappointed if you don't.'

On Monday, Jacko had to catch an early train to Manchester. He was conducting a workshop to help the senior team at a financial services organisation make sense of their latest customer survey results. The workshop was set to run from ten 'til twelve. But then the boss asked if it might be possible for Jacko to stay on for a couple of hours to help the marketing guys plan what to do next. By the time that he finally got away, it was after three.

When he checked his phone -- in the cab on his way to Manchester Piccadilly -- there was a text from Maree. 'I hate playing telephone tag,' she said, 'so I thought I'd send you a text -- just to say hello -- and to say how much I enjoyed supper the other night. Bradley is coming around tonight. He says we have "to talk". I'll try and call you tomorrow. Hope your day is going well. -- M xx

Jacko arrived back at London Euston just before six. He picked up a few bits and pieces at Tesco Metro, and he was home before seven. He had barely had a chance to pour himself a glass of wine before his phone rang. It was Maree.

'Hello. I thought that you had to talk this evening,' he said.

'I did. We did. It was a rather brief conversation,' Maree said. 'Bradley's sister is getting married. In Toronto. Bradley wants to take the boys.'

'Oh. And are you OK with that?'

'Umm ... not sure. I said that we should ask the boys. Anyway, how are you?'

'I'm good. I just got in from Manchester. My morning meeting turned into most of the day.'

She laughed. 'And presumably they paid you for most of the day.'

'Oh, yes. They understand how commerce works. They're quite used to paying for advice.'

They chatted on for a bit and then Maree said that one of the boys was calling. 'I should go and see what the problem is,' she said. 'I thought they were both asleep. And the au pair has the night off, so it's just me.'

'Maybe we could catch a quick drink after work one night,' Jacko suggested.

'I'd like that,' Maree said. 'That would be nice. Laurie's off at a conference on Thursday. Maybe I could get away a bit early. We could go along to your friend's place.'

'My friend's place? Oh. Yes. Mike's place. Miguel's. Put it in your diary,' Jacko said.

It was only after Jacko had pressed End that he remember that he was supposed to be playing squash with Darren at six o'clock on Thursday. 'Sorry, Darren old chap,' he muttered to himself, 'we're going to have to reschedule. I think I may be falling in love.'

On Thursday morning, Jacko sent Maree a text. 'Hello beautiful lady. Are you still on for that glass of wine?'

'I shall meet you there at 4:30,' came the reply.

On Thursday afternoon, Jacko was making a presentation to a potential new client just off Ealing Broadway. The meeting was set for two o'clock. An hour would be ample, Jacko told himself. By three-thirty -- at the latest -- he would back at Ealing Broadway Station, and then it was onto the Central Line Tube all the way through to Tottenham Court Road. From there it was only a short walk to Miguel's.