A Real Man in My Life Ch. 02

Gray told him about his father leaving, how Mum had been, their childhood and growing up, Mum's drinking and attacks on Terry and how he'd tried to hold it all together; Paul made him another cup of coffee.

"Don't beat yourself up Graham," said the social worker. "Believe it or not you've been a victim of domestic violence, no two ways about it. Your Mum manipulated you to such an extent that you didn't even realise life could be any different for you. All that shit with controlling the money, wanting receipts? Classic DV mate, BUT you've survived it and we'll see you and your brother out the other side of it I promise."

Graham took a deep breath and finished his coffee, feeling the weight starting to lift from his shoulders.

He went home and up to his room. He picked up the hated alarm clock that Mum insisted was his eighth birthday present with a nasty humourless smile on her face, the evil bitch had even wrapped it.

That fucking alarm clock, that ever-present, loudly ticking, old fashioned, importuning, hateful ringing that even now could send a chill down his spine when he heard one, and as he stood there hearing the constant second by second by second ticking he threw it on the floor with a yell, stomping his size eleven boots on the back of the thing repeatedly until it was broken and parts of it spread across his hard, cold, bare bedroom floorboards, the first of Mum's insidious, ever present controls on his life to go.

He stopped and realised he was out of breath and crying. With some guilt he realised that it was Mum he was stomping on, her memory, her presence and he thought about how he did actually play a part in her death, he supplied her booze for fuck's sake.

He sat on his bed looking at the clock and realised it was gone, that hard, loveless controlling influence that had affected every inch of his life for as far back as he could remember, gone. He was free.

"You were a victim of domestic violence Graham," he heard Paul's words, "and you survived..."

Yeah, fucking right; he HAD survived and he would never regret it.

He threw the remains of the clock into his bin without a second thought and walked downstairs with a new resolve.

He took Mum's stinking armchair from the living room and her stinking mattress from the iron framed bed and threw them in a heap in the middle of the garden. Next he threw on the few clothes she had left -- same for him, one on and one in the wash, that was all anyone needed. It wasn't until he was nine or ten that he realised that none of his friends went to school wearing clothes still damp from the clothes horse.

In a final act of revenge he poured the remainder of her booze, a bottle of cheap brandy and half bottle of whiskey, over the top and threw on a match. It caught and he watched the flames for a few moments, remembering to drop the bottles into the recycling box in the side passage with the wheelie bins.

He went to bed and slept a peaceful dreamless sleep, free from the tick-tick-tick slave master that had been there for as long as he could remember.

On Sunday morning he called in sick at the supermarket. The duty manager started to complain and whine about young people with no stamina and what they did to malingerers in his day but as soon as Gray mentioned that his mother had died the boss changed tone.

That wasn't sick time, he said and that while he wasn't actually entitled to compassionate leave because of he hadn't worked their for long enough, his Mum had been an excellent customer and a friend, and he said that they would sign him off for the rest of the week and if there was anything they could do, he had only to ask. For the first time in his life, Gray was paid for doing nothing.

He went to the kitchen cupboard and got mops, buckets, bleach, disinfectants and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, finally losing that smell of urine from either Terry's unchanged pads or Mum's alcoholic incontinence that had become part of his life.

He took the heavy metal bed frame to bits and carried it down to the front garden where his retired next door neighbour asked if he could have it to add to his pile of metal in his shed. Graham was so pleased that he carried them round to the old boy's garden. He also offered his condolences and those of his wife.

Gray thanked him and seeing the old man subconsciously touch his wallet in his pocket, added, "No flowers, she hated flowers." She didn't hate flowers, she hated the idea of paying for something you could only look at and served no practical purpose other than to look pretty.

"Oh," said the old boy, "OK then, perhaps a donation to her favourite charity?"

"I'll let you know."

It was obvious that Gray had never registered a death, organised a funeral, wake and all of the other legal paperwork necessary when someone dies. Paul had and stepped in to help.

On Monday he drove Gray to the hospital and collected his mother's death certificate with which he could then register her death. Following this, he went to the local Co-op funeral directors and arranged the best funeral that could be purchased with the funeral grant Paul had arranged with Social Security. It was enough, no church service needed, no cars, no flowers, only a non-denominational speaker that Paul knew and would come along and preside just for petrol money as a favour.

For all her faults Mum had been fastidious with her filing, especially the financial side, what with her being a control freak and they soon found her bank details. They went to the bank and with the death certificate arranged for part of his money to be withdrawn for the funeral even though this was taken care of by the grant. The bank also sorted out a bridging loan while her estate was sorted out.

Only the three of them went to the local crematorium to see Mum on her way. Almost everyone else had fallen out with the bad tempered old cow that ruled her poor boys with a rod of iron. Her ashes were spread in the garden of rest with her parents.

Once Terry was settled for the evening, Paul took Graham to the pub and despite his working in such establishments for eighteen months bought him his first pint of beer. In the corner of the lounge bar he'd never been in even though it was less than 100 yards from his house, Graham told Paul about his life and its limitations, his one C grade GCSE in history and his singular lack of any qualification other than that.

He'd been at work for full time now three years, having started to deliver papers twice a day at thirteen, and was experienced in stacking shelves in a cut price supermarket, throwing people out of pubs, getting rent out of people or helping them move their belongings out of houses in a worse condition than his.

Paul saw that Graham, although remaining his usual outwardly placid calm self, was raging inside. His treatment by his mother, by his employers and clients, by the police following the death of his mother and the animosity of the social workers after Terry was taken in was burning inside him.

After three pints, it was off his chest and he seemed happier for it. Paul saw him home with a further promise they'd sort it all out.

Gray discussed with Terry about coming home, and Terry confided that he didn't want to come home, he loved being at the centre where he didn't have to be carried up any stairs, dropped onto a toilet too low for him to climb off of, where everything was on one level and they had arranged an electric wheelchair so he could get around on his own. The centre took him swimming once a week as part of his physical therapy, were helping him with his English and Maths and had arranged with the local college for him to attend two days a week and improve his education. Besides that, the centre had Sky Sports and the little old ladies were so enthralled with his presence that they let him and his new best mate Dave watch Premier League football including, of course, their beloved West Ham.

Gray was actually really pleased and Paul could see it in his face. "Right then Terry," said Paul, "Now you're settled, we'd better get this brother of yours sorted out hadn't we."

Terry grinned.

Paul had arranged that Graham move in to a small flat on the understanding he gave up the big, now virtually empty three bedroom house they'd lived in. The rent and upkeep was minimal, and had none of the memories and bad feeling that his childhood home had. Gray even had a grant from the council to decorate it and lay carpet. He painted it bright colours, put up some posters, bought a new mattress and began life again, still working his peculiar series of jobs. He even invited Paul, Terry, Ray and Terry's mate Dave from the centre round for a housewarming.

Over slices of pizza and glasses of Coke, they all laughed and chatted about Gray's new start, "You've got a brain in that head of yours Graham," Paul leaned forward and handed Gray a big brown envelope (which he still has) with a prospectus and application forms for the local college.

"Yeah tosser, time you got educated like us clever people." Ray had just announced that he was starting University in Bournemouth the following September.

Two weeks later Paul took him to get his hair styled rather than the number one hair cut his mother had done on him and Terry for as long as he could remember. Then to the open evening and he signed up for a whole set of GCSE's he could take a couple of days and a few evenings a week. A year later he was starting a conversion course that would qualify him to start a degree. Graham had said he'd like to be a social worker but Paul said no, there were better paid jobs where he could right the wrongs of the world.

So he went to Exeter University to study law and three years later left with 'LLB' after his name. Bullied by Paul the social worker and his tutor, he then sat another years training for the Bar Professional training course, undertook Pupillage in barristers' chambers and a year later was called to the bar as a twenty five year old, and was almost unrecognisable from the quietly withdrawn skinhead boy that had sat in a police interview room after his mother's death, six years previously.

He had shown a natural talent for the work and his chambers went from strength to strength. He prosecuted and defended often specialising in domestic violence cases, many of which he did Pro bono as even he admitted he was paid a ridiculous amount of money to do what he did.

He worked for several government departments, some councils and some London Boroughs. His drive and his sense of humour had made him a sought after name in the law.

Terry was still in the same centre and still supporting West Ham. Gray arranged for him and, by implication a carer, to have a season ticket for home games and the centre would arrange transport, by train and underground, by far Terry's favourite part of the day. He also bought one for Dave.

"So there you have it," he said, "legal professional and no need to make coffee for anyone, despite what Ray says."

"Wow!" I said blinking back tears, "None of us knew, we all thought that you were just a big lad that didn't mix well. Oh Gray, I'm so sorry." I said, stroking a hand up his muscular bicep, "And being a barrister? I mean, you don't look like you spend your life wearing a wig and arguing with people over points of law," feeling as close to him as I did right then I squeezed his muscles at their widest point, "you look like you pick up cars and throw them over fences if someone upsets you." I sipped my coffee and giggled at him.

He put a hand over mine and squeezed it, "I suppose that's a compliment," he said smiling back.

"Definitely," I said, "up until five minutes ago I thought I was having dinner with a good looking taxi driving bailiff/doorman bass player, now I find he's a good looking, barrister bass player."

"Is there any difference?" he said.

I leaned closer towards him. "None whatsoever," the food, the wine, the ambience, the closeness, the fact this gorgeous hunk had gone from sexy and a bit scary to sexy sophisticated in seconds, I whispered in his ear, "I still fancy the hell out of him."

He leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips, and I responded. The waiter closed in and refilled our coffee cups. "Thank you," Gray said, "I'll have the bill if I may please." The waiter smiled and walked away.

"Shall we go halves?" I asked.

"Lovely Natalie," he leaned forward, "this evening has been marvellous and only twenty years late, but if you think I'm going to ruin the atmosphere by anything as nasty as Snow White paying for her dinner then think again." He took the paper slip from the waiter and handed him a card.

"Thank you Mr Woods," said the waiter and swiped it. As he handed the machine across I was really pleased that we hadn't gone halves, the bill was nearly £300, which even half would have been a big lump out of my salary!

I felt trapped, I couldn't let him spend all that much on me! "Gray!" I said blushing brightly, "Look, I err... let me make a contribution... that's a huge amount..." he grinned and shook his head at the waiter who made a point of handing Gray his card back so I could see it was platinum American Express.

"Don't worry Nats," he said, and looked a bit embarrassed, "when I deal with my corporate clients, that's about half an hours work, often less; trust me, I'm good for it!"

"Thank you!" I leaned over and kissed him again. He stood up and the waiter held my chair as I got up and it really looked like Gray had envied him the task.

We walked out into the foyer and I held his arm. I looked to my left into the large mirrored wall and saw the tall handsome barrister escorting the hot looking curvy brunette in a little black dress and it took me a second to really believe that the hot looking chick was me and the Real Man I was with was just as into me as I was him!

I was so tempted to get my phone and send Gemma a text thanking her for her advice and me dressing up. I felt like a million dollars and right now, I wanted this evening to carry on.

"Can we go for a walk in park Gray?" I said looking up into face giving it the best Bambi eyes I could.

He smiled and walked me across the perfectly mown grass, I stopped and slipped off my heels feeling the wonderful cool grass against my bare feet.

We reached the side of the lake and Gray put his arm around my shoulder and I lay my head on his, nothing said, just a sweet romantic moment the like of which neither of us had known in too long. We stopped just shy of the woods; Gray stepped behind me and put his arms around me and whispered,

"Look..." he said pressing his cheek against mine and pointing along the tree line. There was a roe deer closely followed by a small fawn.

"Wow..." I whispered back to him, "it's beautiful."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my cheek against his; he squeezed me tight.

"Yeah," he breathed deeply, his hot breath on my neck and my ear making me tremble, "you just ate their cousin..."

I spluttered out a laugh, and the startled deer ran back into the woods. Laughing with the braking of the sexual tension, I turned in his arms and slipped mine around his neck, dropping my shoes and grinning up into his handsome face.

He was smiling too; I moved my face to his, and we kissed mashing out faces together, our tongues writhing together in a wet mess. I felt his hands across the small of back, at my sides and as we kissed resting softly on the rise of my bottom.

We stopped for breath; "What shall we do now?"

"Whatever you want to do honey," he said.

"Let's walk for a bit, I don't want this fantastic night to end."

"It doesn't have to Natalie," he said and thought for a moment, "Follow me." I picked up my shoes and held his hand.

After a long walk around the park we ended up back in his car and drove out to another place I'd often seen, but had never been to. It was a large out of town Hotel, club, golf club, and fitness centre all combined. Parker had tried hard to get a membership but they were just a bit too exclusive for that wannabe millionaire and his mix of second hand golf clubs in an overly ostentatious golf bag and trolley.

The Freemasonry turned him down first and lots of the clientele were the same, and I was to find out that he had screwed a couple of their members via dodgy contracts and was black balled by at least four of the membership!

None of that for Graham though and his Aston Martin was parked by a valet and we entered and again we were greeted with, "Ah Mr Woods, what a pleasure to see you again."

Shown to a small table there was a large dance floor and a small orchestra playing a mix of music styles and he ordered a half bottle of champagne for me, taking the occasional sip from my glass. "Let's dance," he said as the orchestra played some slow music and holding hands we got up and danced slowly to the music.

Within moments we were kissing again, and it just kept getting more and more romantic. He ran his hands across my body, sifting hands through my hair bringing all my senses to life and I was burning up inside and I just wanted him.

"Gray," I whispered my voice trembling, "what are your thoughts on sex on a first date?"

"In general terms I'm pretty much for it," he whispered back, "so long as we aren't talking about right here and right now, I'm pretty sure the committee wouldn't like it."

I giggled, "Well if you're going to get all precious about it," I said, "I was thinking somewhere slightly more private, can we get a room here?"

"We don't need to honey," he said, "my place is about five minutes up the road, if that's private enough?"

"That's should do just fine." I said, so comfortable in his arms.

I collected my wrap and sat in his car that had been brought round the second we'd thanked the maître for our evening, slightly nervous about what was about to happen. I was heading back to his place for one thing, to strip out of our clothes, climb into bed and slowly make love. I was starting to feel that wonderful, nervous, sexy feeling that I first had driving home with my sex toys a bare six weeks ago. This time though, my sexual play would be with real person, a 'real man', who would be loving me back.

My mind began to race, would he like what he saw? Once my Wonderbra came off what would he make of my big boobs; and my belly, OK I wasn't fat as such but I'd had three children for fuck's sake. I had stretch marks than ran in pale white lines across my flanks, had I picked that stray hair that grew from my right nipple, he was tall and muscular, I was nearly forty... what the fuck was I thinking!

I nervously straightened up and saw that we were driving through large brick pillars and there was his house. His place was huge and now that the moon had dropped I could only pick out a suggestion of the detail highlighted by the few spotlights that lined the drive and a couple of security lights that came on.

This time I waited for him to come around and open my door, I was getting used to it!

He kissed my hand and I followed him along a paved path towards a red brick building and a dark blue front door. He opened it with a couple of keys and switched on a few lights.

"Welcome," he said and at the bottom of the stairs he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, we broke for a moment and I pulled him up the stairs, I didn't have a clue where I was going from there but I knew that I really wanted to be in bed with him and him with me. I guessed right because he switched the lights off and followed me up.

At the top of the stairs he swung me effortlessly up into his arms like I weighed nothing and carried me along the hallway until he pushed against the door at the very end. The room was illuminated by bedside lamps and it didn't have that confusion of masculine and feminine that the room I shared with Parker had. This room just looked cool, with a stylish sophistication. Gray admitted to me later that so it bloody should, the person he'd paid to design it has cost him a fortune.